Category: Perspective

She told me I scratched her
I apologized

I told her she scratched me
She cut her nails

I lowered myself beneath her
So that I could suckle the sweet nectars
From her breast
Mouth watering and back bent I latched on
Two savory drops plopped on my lips
A splash on the tongue exciting the buds

There were Two drops before
She withdrew and named me selfish
I selfish?
Having toiled so long
Beaten and battered along the way
And all I ask is a drink

But how could she know of my thirst?
How could I know of her aching utters?
I was sucking her dry.

I can hear the chains rattling
With every flick of my tongue
Every word an emblem
Of the wars he has won
Through manipulation pillage and con
It's a high pedestal the white man sits on

What a comfy throne he has built
Plush pillows cushion his soft hide
All but a pretty veil
Covering the foundation of the seat
Leaking with blood and the rank of defeat

Filling our nostrils
We can't breath
And we plead
for air from the oppressor
in his tongue that we call our own

How infinite, the ripples of Slavery
He has colonized, our minds with his words

But bilingual we are
We have taught ourselves the speech of soul.

Revolution
its not a word but an action breaking the chain beneath our tongues.

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