Sugar Blues

January 5, 2013

The ONE poem I have, deliberately, withheld from publishing (in my books) because one day, I want to devote a whole book to the “concern” and donate all proceeds to an anti-rape organization yet to be determined.

Sugar Blues

My almost thirteen year old self was more overwhelmed
by the endless mug shots of black boys and men
than by the reason I was sitting at the cop’s desk
looking through myriad pictures
trying to pick out the one
who stole my virginity.

Under pressure, I finally picked out one
who looked similar enough.
How glad I was, during the trial,
that his teacher verified his whereabouts.

Decades later, the subject came up again
and it came to my attention that I wasn’t the only one.
It wasn’t only my shame, wasn’t only my affliction.
It was a community epidemic
that it had its source in hatred of the feminine;
whether young or old, virgin or whore.

So I can’t act like I don’t know
or treat it like some feminine malady
that has nothing to do with me.
I gotta be real, not divorce myself.

I saw an actor in a film say
women are the sweetness of life
but somewhere along the way
sugar blues has taken up residence.
We got diabetic rapists, saccharin pedophiles
and just plain glucose driven men.

So this is a call to action.
If you bout it, bout it
if you’re truly about revolution
truly about change
you need to step up to the plate
and recognize the rigged game
that has us all, men as well as women
losing our sense of community,
our sense of ourselves.


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