Cristol Mubaiwa

WEEK 34

Black Blues
 Dear black girl what it u knew that your hair is good enough that it curls black rings of gold in the air
“that your nose is never to big and that u even kylie jenner went for surgery to have lips like yours
“that they envy your tough skin that’s why they botox/
“they they can’t rock an afro but u can rock it all/
Why do you allow the immersion of your beauty and
Uniqueness to drown in waters that bruise instead of bathing your beauty
Soul/
Buried in insecurities, feeding on the media’s definition of beauty making
You hide your ebonic rubies therefore creating magma on your core/
If only i was a shade above this one i would be better ,and maybe id be boss if
My hips and ass were fatter  and if my hair was longer and straighter ,maybe id Fit in if my lips were smaller and pink in this white set up/
 made to believe with our natural tough skin that bruises our within
Walking in the dust roads of your mind leaving barefooted tears engraved so deep they leave tattoos on your chicks because we came a long way/
Innit we came from apes so they expect us to still warm when life is a cold day/
The shelters of the black girl spirit is the black skin/
And even our own man now prefer the color of the next kin/
Because if you are not lightskin then you are not good enough /
And now u wear these contacts tho your eyes are black they are not blue black so not blue enough/
Black girl had it rough/
No black color on the rainbow either is there white enough is enough/
And this music this music you dance to insults you /
A bitch is an animal and a hoe is a farm tool yes tools that’s all we are to you/
They say bend n shake there’s nothing new to this/
The shiny moon is ordinary but everyone ignites to a black eclipse/
So when you speak well they are disturbed by your confidence/
Thick skulls ,thick hips , thick hair
Yes its evident

WEEK 33

Un-love you
I need to un-love you
You make me feel the universe within my chest but my rib cage can’t withstand your hold.
You make me lose my words, you have me searching for my own tongue in my mouth.
I need to unlove you
You are a living image of all I ever wanted but all I will never have
You make me want to write love poems and that has never been my strong ink
See sometimes I forget you are not mine so I hold you in the palms of my memories and draw your heavenly essence all over my thought process
So when they ask me how I am doing, I yell I am gorgeous but really that will be the pieces of art you left in my heart talking.
You are this drug and I am a willing rehab patient
I have overdose written all over my face every time I see you
So you see why I need to unlove you?
I believe in you
Seeing that your eyes speak in doctrines that preach to my spirit
Your lips look like they could suck the oxygen out of my already failing lungs , seeing that you take my breath away
how cliché
But these lips have the ability to decapitate me after murdering me for seconds
So I need to unlove you because I fear you are not ready to be cared for like I would care for you
Not ready to be loved like I would love you
Not ready for all these flaming emotions I have towards you
Not ready to be taken for the germ that you purely are
I need to unlove you because you don’t understand my type of love!

WEEK 10

No Space allowed

Closer than my shadow and rivet these artistic hands together…
probably that way the temperature of our bodies could magnify
and faithfully teleport this duo to art galleries and celestial galaxies…
Tattooing this whole being with metaphors and similes…
Leaving the ink to sink engraving melodies…
So these melodies will burn calories…
as our shadows make babies…

Shhhhh let’s pause

Do you feel that?

Feel my hands leave do-re-miz behind your knees…
Lips with tricks forever up my sleeves. .
Tongue like fabric,with talent to make you clean. .
We have acted for so long to cut this scene…
In
In
Out
Within you
My fingerprints paint your masterpiece of a body
Your planet of curves
Every touch staining rainbows and every kiss beholds stars
Stars that make you shoot despicably until you wish we were not unified in one plea .
So I watch dry places transforming to seas.
Wet
Steam
Tap dancing to these sacred sounds
We are bound

Close, closer than my heartbeat
Closer than my breath
Closer than my thoughts
Close enough to feel me bleed

So would you?
Would you come closer?

WEEK 4

When you confessed your love for her,

when you proposed to her,

did you forget to tell her?

To tell her that you have a fattish, a rather crude envy for handball.

 

Instead you took the politician stunt and sold her roses with your speech and sunflowers with your eyes.

But you forgot to mention that your hands were exceptional at tying nooses around her neck and that you’d practice handball with her face.

 

But you should have because in her mind it should have been you to wear an armour so as to save her from such men.

And your arms should have been a compound she runs for refuge

And just by holding your hands her heart would sigh and would whisper you are safe.

 

But you forgot to tell her that to you she was an attractive ball good enough to be labeled wife

One that you hit against a wall

Sometimes

Throw on the floor

Sometimes,

Kick while at it

Sometimes

 

When you told her you loved her you forgot to tell her that you have a different language for love and its you she would need saving from.

You failed to tell her

But you should have told her.

She could have saved herself .

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Words from the author:

This piece is inspired by frequent domestic abuse that my neighbor experiences. It comes from a place where I am confused on why she chooses to stay and also why her husband failed to give her a heads up on how he would treat her later on. I feel this piece is relevant and simple as it is proving to be increasingly relatable.

 

 

 

Hey you

You never asked me but I just feel like sharing

I hate pink

Okay hate is a strong word

I hate pink

And when I do have a cute lil princess as my daughter she is going to look like a cute lil dude because she will always be in blue

Okay I’m tripping

But I was just thinking

Who announced pink as a print for femininity

And I gotta ask where the heck was their creativity

And in all veracity

Who gave them the duty and authority

 

Hey you society..

They , They have a tendency.. to blame everything on you ..

Like you are always to blame for what they are going through..

Like you start teaching them young and still at school..

And you define what a woman and a man are to do..

 

Society teaches me I should be myself but as I sleep society pegs landmines and dynamites just to stop me from taking strides to my home which is in me..

Society says be you Crissy but wait wait not like that

Like I have to live for her

And stares at my uniqueness as hell appropriate

 

Mama always made wear pink

Then daddy would say that’s my girl and wink

But mama you know I have never been a fan of pink

But mama only cares about what people think

 

So I’m sorry

I’m sorry I don’t like carrying a purse because I feel like it’s extra luggage, instead I’d prefer my money and my phone to find dreams in my pockets

I’m sorry I’d rather wear white or black t-shirts because everything in between makes me feel weird

I’m sorry

I’m sorry my lips never find rest in red lipstick but I’m always forced to wear it when I’m at my sisters

My apologies

My feet were just not meant for shoes with a 2cm sole, I love vans ,converse and all

 

So society I guess you having fun in defining me

Hey you society

 

I have a question

From which scripture do you gather your theories?

Lest you forget that only God defines Good

Not you or your mother but God

That his word is true though often at times its never in sync with how you feel

Hey you Society

Its a sad thing to say that we follow you like twitter birds were our way to exaltation

We allow you to lead our perspection as if you cursived 10 commands on Moses’s stone

But no

Its time we stop stereotyping and making judgments

When ultimately we all have to judged according to the color of our own garments

So society

Being a woman is not sculptured by what color I like or what heels I wear or whether I find comfort in a skirt or whatever I wear..

Being a man is not defined by bicep and triceps or how tall he is or is he has facial hair..

Its defined by the perfect knowledge of the Son of Man

So since I was made by him for him only he can define who I am

 

So I’m sorry to say I don’t Milly rock to your moves because you don’t make the rules

By the way society is one person

Society is you

It baffles me how we live by your rectified emotions

And March to the sound of your trumpet

I mean its the same you that tells woman its okay to stay when he beats you and slap you with “I love yous”

Its the same you that turn and twist our men to Caitlyn Jenners

Same that raises banner subliminally quoted miracles for sale

 

For these bodies we lay in are borrowed

We are simply just stewards

And for keeping then pure we are promised a great reward

So what do you have to offer?

What’s in it for me if I choose to follow your path instead nhai society?

Eternity?

Or popularity?

The irony is funny really

How I choose to repeat saying hey you society

As if I don’t know who makes it up

Society is you

Society is me

Oh by the way pink might not be such a bad color

 

Name:Cristol Danai Mubaiwa

Age:20

Background:Zimbabwean

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