Some little brown girls walk straight lines,
flossin' crooked shoes,
some fitted for a junkie,
bare brown feet often decorate a gurney.
Enslaved by euphoria induced consequences,
of ganja and cocoa leaves,
tainted dreams, tears savor salty__and all of twenty.
"Little brown girls hear my bawdry words,
of what misty mirrors foresee..."
Love has no boundary when testing the sea,
naive appetite copious,
not choosy.
II.
HIV, a baby?, some labeled doxy
possible life changes, taken vaguely,
hear what your story could be.
A little brown girl's search for love,
was practiced dangerously,
she didn’t ask any of them, if germ free.
He said little brown girl was fine and sexy,
beautiful words to a little brown girl,
who is looking for any kind of love,
not a love that is deserving.
"Damn!" Little brown girl said,
"He looks to good, to be sickly!".
He said he was freaky,
said, "No love here Baby Girl, cause this "fuck" is free",
as he fucked her with his goatee,
got in it, took about a minute,
was over quickly.
He didn’t look in her eyes to see,
her love ripped painstakingly.
said he didn’t love her,
said "Thanks Baby Girl, now I got more pussy to sightsee!"
Why? Little brown girl’s love wasn’t stingy,
made her crazy…..that his love was,
only applied superficially.
Little brown girl screams,
"Am I not shapely_____enough!"
As she missed meals,
chasin’ lily model stereotype beauty.
III.
Misty mirror speaks wisdom loudly,
reflects back, her hair beautifully bushy,
blood purged,
no longer dirty,
pumps softly in every capillary.
Soul thirsts whispers from pedigree,
little brown girl’s body metamorphosed from HIV,
her intellect says study; maybe write a thesis,
for a degree.
Eventually….. her diary unfolds a story,
of a little brown girl’s life worth living,
education replenished, not from strangers,
but from loving family members,
who never stopped looking,
for their little brown girl,
faces reality of a positive result____yet surviving.
From African desert painted women in her family,
from every shade of wisdom____breathtaking.
Now, a brown woman, as strong as the Sequoia,
makes love that tastes of myrrh and honey,
Speaks proudly, "Know thyself is a gift given preciously,
not to a false image, but created in the image of Adam’s Eve".
IV.
"Little brown girls hear my bawdry words,
of what misty mirrors foresee..."
Misty mirror teaches a lesson_____ clearly,
the spoken words of little brown girls' tainted memories.
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Biography: Teachers, like candles; consume a little of ourselves everyday, so our students can shine bright.
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Originally Posted by Insightful_Kitten~
Speak it girl. lol. This one is amazing! It just captures the emotion and paints a beautifully detailed painting with its words. georgous.
Dear Apryl,
Thank you so much for taking precious time to read and comment. Yes, this is a strong post, with strong language. Took quite sometime to scribe, and get just the right words together, for just the right message. Thank you so much, and am happy you enjoyed this.
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the mind of a woman is much more advanced than the mind of man... she feels deeper.. yet.. though i love my man mind..., i really envy the way you articulated the weaknesses of the young, immature, girls who learn the hard way..... the leathalness of the street, the harshness of the overplayed idea of love and affection.....
i can relate to this poem, because, i was in the game a long time ago.. and i have exploited a few people in my time...
this work is one of those kind that lets me remember where i came from to better appreciate where i am...
Little Brown Girls' (Journey from Tragedy to Spirituality)
