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Rural by Jessica Hite

dirt roads.
redder than the blood
that spilled to make them.
glistening dark skin
pressed against
rich, white cotton.

sunday picnic baskets.
the finest leisure day clothes,
black bodies drifting
in the summer breeze.

an orange rolled
every morning
by withered black hands.
a sweetness to cast off
the sour of sickness.

too many mouths;
not enough chicken
or eggs or vegetables.
only cents, instead of dollars.
the living not shared—only cropped.

anywhere but here.
pack up and head north.
where nigger is negro,
still bitter and stinging,
but manageable.

long car rides
to grandmother’s house.
ten kids to two rooms,
but we complain about six.

still dirt roads.
strange fruit has
rotted to the ground.
now bullets chase
black bodies
along with the summer breeze.

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Everything Chases the Sun by Chris Eyes

Everything chases the sun

The temptation is towards silence

but the noise always seems to win.

I yearn to empty my days of everything but you.

I’ll be burnt but I accept the scars.

See, morning is nothing without a dream to chase,

but while the waste of a generation fades

and days wait only for the moonlight,

my world illuminates in the dark,

where death is a spark,

a spike to the heart,

when all is unsaid,

and the hunger is fed

I contemplate greed

and the silence becomes nothing but a reason to bleed.

The ink is a seed

and everything chases the sun.

– Chris Eyes

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What poetry is to me by Ayesha Noor

poetry is

the exorcist of my demons

the water that puts out the fire in my mind

the surgeon that stitches the shredded pieces of my soul back together

the angel on my shoulder that keeps the devil from ruining me irrevocably

Continue reading What poetry is to me by Ayesha Noor

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they call

she answers

they curse her name

she’s tries to stifle

the chatter

while forced to accept

justification for

the disrespect

and walk through life

without regret

for accepting

that she was to be considered

and allow

herself to be called

anything less than

your majesty


or beautiful being


was the good girl

who was never seen

and taunted

like a bad girl

so she

became the defiled being…

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I’m feeling myself.

Lights, camera, action

then she started flashing

said let’s make a movie

not a fan nor a groupie

I was feeling her

and she was feeling me

body on body

no space in between

kissing on my neck

next thing ya know

she reached down below

freaking out

oh no

I’m not well versed

and she grabbed me by the hand

said show me your worst.