I’m a nationalist to humanity
There is no dirt that belongs to me
Where I belong is where hearts find safety
I don’t look at color or the wealthy
My language is of Love
And my skin simply reflects the sun
My flag is black with brilliance, absorbing all the colors in the sun.
My culture is that of freedom and honor
And pizza and chocolate
And cheese
And lastly, my religion, my belief, is my life and etiquette.
Can my morals and free-thought culture be the flirtatious song of my voice
that brings charmed smiles
or my determination in my aspirations cause the love-struck ambitions
Can selflessness be an adornment the way
my robe generously flows around my hips
Or-When can my deep sincerity, honesty, and integrity be the exotic
blackest kohl
as my veil of identity and personality graces my eyes
Can it be that all that I’ve learned and am learning
be the gold hung around my neck and hands
And be the means of true impression and status
Or my diligence and it’s dirt of hard work on my clothes
be the satin fabric that illuminates my skin
the way my heart illuminates
all the same, from within. in full radiance, and beauty
that I can claim to be of my own
and natural
It’s like painting a new picture
for the strange object that never fit in
Like a sock on a vase
rather than flowers within
Strange and despised
What nonsense is this
A sock on a vase?
This art has no face!
Refusing to be abashed
The artist changes state
It’s the viewer who was wrong
And the meaning was misplaced
But the vase was painted over
with a desk and a sitting mother
knitting the last sock
for her dying little child,
because the idiots whose understanding
of life and living
is so very mild.
if only we can lead our lives with our hearts and eyes
instead of throwing fake poses and walking with our noses up high
thinking only of ourselves and falling into vice,
forgetting the meaning of life and how to sacrifice
there is a cure and it’s not magic
nor is it obscure or hiding something tragic
it’s to accept the pain that as humans we gain
and forgive our weaknesses that lead us to shame
to move on and ignore the count of numbers
to be free so we can lie back into euphoric slumbers
and remember that there is nothing more dearer
than smiling into a cracked mirror
and watching the world reflect back
Note To My Sanity 