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Mine, the color of salted toffee Hers, a delicate cream The perfect layer of latte foam That lowers my self-esteem Or maybe it's more of a porcelain white Only opinion knows
Shed the skin of the colonizer As if it is not also mine As if the blood coursing through me did not also pool along the legs of Malintze
these girls fan over my melanin as if it were designer that they can try on and wear until they’re bored. snatch the skin off this mannequin, claw until they see fresh wounds, and wrap it around themselves.
Oh, powerful Sun Illuminated still Like a plant, I reach to you ’til I’ve had my fill. So, I flower & I fruit & make aromatic scents with my skin living in perpetual radiance.
Skin. My skin. My melanin. My pigment that makes my skin appear darker. My pigment that absorbs all light. Skin The skin that people aspire to have. The skin that started man kind.
Ink on the Skin, White like Paper. I am my writing, The corners taper. My poems I read, Then soon become. Sharing the thoughts, I'm trying to overcome. These words I write, Share a story.
My mother wanted to name me Nina. The dreamer. Talented, highly flavored and strong. A woman whose voice spanned generations.
Is it so detestable The way I look? Am I disgusting? Can't you see my humanity I am Unique There is no one else Like me Yes, my skin looks like this It matters not
Dear Atopic Eczema, As you take away barriers of my skin I have built up walls around my heart Before I knew that I was Pangea, You break me into continents
To my apathetic partner,
A golden glow falls down from sky, And on my face and hands does lie, It warms my skin, but also soul, And heals my broken heart to whole.
to my Self, you have always been, are, and will continue to be, perfect in your imperfections. You are human, and you are as beautiful as the cosmos. to my Skin,
#MeToo for every time her hair wrapped my fingers, and her body hugged the cold rim of the toilet, because you decided she wasn’t drunk enough. #MeToo, for all the accidental grazes,
Don’t eat that. I am just being honest, Because I love you. You will regret eating that, A moment... I am trying to help you,
We talk of how the pen is mightier than the sword. So why does the ink in my skin continue to be cut by the whit-hot blade of racism? My hair is black as vanilla bean.
Where is the rose, with petals so delicate, That they might fall, if my fingers brush them? ,
Her hair shines fire in the sunlight Like in the sun is the only place she belongs And the moonbeams caress her dark skin Like she has always been a part of the stars And the universe glimmers in her eyes
The color of my skin does not determine my worth; it strengthens it The color of my skin does not define my success, it glorifies it The color of my skin does not hinder my beauty, it enhances it
I can still feel the heat of the sun on my skin Still feel the memory of where it had been As we both fell asleep We both fell so fast I looked up at you And I prayed it would last
Your skin gets you promoted My skin gets me deported Your skin is stern My skin learns
Each Night, I rub, I scrape and I fight. Each night I try to wash the pigment I cry as my skin begins to redden I can't take it off. All of a sudden I stop.
I see a Diaspora set in motion. I see it in the refugees that swarm shores only to be pushed away. In their hands held palms up, A backpack strapped tight, and a lost childs toy. Syria is the new victim.
The morning after always brings more satisfaction than the previous night. Feeling like gods as the sunlight illuminates our copper skin Air, thick with content
Green eyes stare back into mineand time becomes lostWe talk under starshineThough tomorrow we'll pay the cost
Imagine darkness Blackness with hints of color Unusual yet subtle... Imagine lonliness, yet devoured with fear Thats how I feel Lost in a sea of whiteness
I’m white, Caucasian, Dutch, Norwegian. I have no month To celebrate this background, But I have had 18 years To learn about my people My people— Who are not just white
Tired irrational thoughts Miss the page and end up inked blots What use is this? Too many thoughts for paper to hold I thought this would clear my mind or so I was told Time to be bold
This skin does not belong to me it is merely borrowed. A place in which I only temporarily reside. My skin is not yet finished. My time has not yet come. But it will.
We see our skin everyday. the flesh gripping tightly on our bones and protecting us from the world outside as we shake a hand, dry our eyes, or contemplate in the mirror upon if I can fit in and erase my thighs,
A picture painted in red, Crimson sliding down a canvas of snow-white skin. Creating cracks in porcelain as the knife cuts deeper, The bright fluid oozing out from underneath the surface. Dulled senses are awoken,
What contains us and protects us
I know I am white You do not have to stare At me With your doe eyes And envy I know I am white I hate this skin Keeping us apart This lesson we've all been taught
So, we sit We wait What now? The smooth, seductive sound Of the blues swim around us The intoxicating moods that shift all around I look at you You look at me
you began to undress me and as each button of my blouse becomes undone a sliver of some imperfection slips past my possessions that once possessed me settle in a pool around my ankles
I saw a river in her stretch marks It was beautiful I knew if I travelled long enough I'd find her delta The place where she began. Her ocean was so wide I'd never come close to knowing her depth
I am Unfinished. My edges aren't sanded smooth There are creases and circles worn into my eyes, There are scars and callouses on my hands There are stripes of uneven bronze across my skin
Skin can break bones can shatter but words will forever ffill the air. Unbreakable filled with power. They win wars and stop hate. They can be used for greatness.
The Skin I’m in The Skin I’m in doesn’t mean I am covered in sin Or that I am corrupt from within born into a life of violence and rage. That because of my skin tone I am an animal uncaged.
Looking in the mirror, my skin leaves a message. It provides internal and external feelings, about my life, what it has offered and what is to come. Living for fifteen years, has shown me a part of who I am.
There's a funny little saying You are what you eat So watch what you eat cause You are what you eat Can't have fast food You're fat Can't have that cookie That's sugar
Today we are told to be thinner, eat less, work out more; that our beauty has a standard we need to brace ourselves for.
An apology is much overdue For all the harm I've caused; More so with the harsh words, Which daily fell from my tongue. The cuts and bruises once came From being young, wild, and free.
If I said I was a leader would you follow. If I said I was inspiring would you listen.If I said I was a Christian would you believe me.
The skin I'm in is borrowed. I want to peel it back, and destroy my casing.
Because of my skin tone I'm considered another ethnicity Because of my skin tone I'm judged for wanting the traditional values of my heritage
"Fireworks" you murmured That summer afternoon Wrapped in your arms on the couch A kiss that ended so soon It was my first with you Beforehand didn't matter
Yes I'm black, that doesn't mean I'm vulnerable to attack, I'm just like you, a human, red blood, emotions and a moving figure,
war, there is war everywhere in Iraq, Syria, and even in the U.S.A, recently there has been an epidemic of police bashing. A seed in Ferguson was shot to death by a police officer, which sent a fire through the field.
Twisted and tangelled I think I fell out of the skiy. Red flesh kept mangeled, is not how humans feel alive. To live and feel life where the sorrow and anger has been. Was written like a map in my layers of skin.
Black & white Why fight between us human Why racism compare to color ? You might be white or black and nothing difference between us.
I've grown up around strong women. To be specific, I've been surrounded by strong black women. That doesnt make me strong though This made it hard for me to find myself. I wanted to be like them
I am more than the box you put me in.
I know the guys always say the same old line. "The makeup compliments your eyes" Honestly your personality compliments your mind you one of a kind. No matter how much makeup you apply you can't never hide what's inside.
My thoughtsGo crazy. They wander,They go in circlesMaybe that's the reason for the blackCircles underneathMy eyes.My eyesStare out the window as my thoughtsUnderneathThy skin wanders.
I have a brown skin friend.
The black girl. Built strong, legs long unlike her hair. Hair thick like her hips. Full lips. Left on this earth for a purpose but constantly forced by society to find it alone.
The absolute design that defines me, and yet in the mist of the night no one hears my screams.
Skin does not have the power To identify who someone is. Skin has no morality, nor intelligence
What we feel is what we know. It is delicate, fragile. Punctured and bruised. Touched and healed. What we feel is what we know. And every time, the goosebumps grow,
as if the bruises from my self conscious's grip weren't enough of a reminder of these
Skin Your ugly because your dark skin Your beautiful because your light skin bullying teasing all to make yourself feel good
according to my tattoo artist my paper is skin thin my skin is paper thin. thin skin means more scarring means shitty tattoos. i am not capable of holding ink.
he had a past. physical touching heat. he was known for his drive his reputation was based on his tendency to always have a beautiful, flawless girl who gave herself freely.
Skin is the name for the outer shell that wraps you body so well
I work harder As I ponder the future
When starting out We are like a cocoon All wraped up in love Blind to our surroundings As time goes on we start to break free We find out that our cocoon of love Was never what it seemd
Racism. It's such a strong word, A prevelant issue, Something that separates, Discriminates. It leads to wars. It does not love. It is an unjust system. It hurts.
Why does it matter if my skin is darker than yours? Why take my land away from me and leave me here suffering with an empty soul? At least give me clean water in return, rip open my head and yours,
We are stuck in a world of prejudice, Where the colour of our skin does not go unnoticed To say I am a citizen of the world is wrong, Because I must find a way to belong By colour, race and religion
So I'm white I must have it easy. Are you sure? Or is it the wealthy you're thinking of? It's not their skin. It's the money, education, and opportunity.
My wish is that the world would squish
I was 13. Looking in the mirror, It never dawned to me why, Why the window between my teeth, The disproportionate nose, The “five-head”, Too sufficient for just a bang, Not brown
Little do we knowbut darkness does fade. And that dark flesh won't always be so sweet.Little do we know
Those cool summer nights Not a cloud in sight Catching fire flies The glisten in your eyesOut under moon lit skies Time sure flys bye On those summer nights
Sometimes i pretend to be someone famousi wake up like them and dress like them,i slip into their skin and it’s okay.
I am a Brown Skinned Girl Constantly being judged Thinking, is it my eyes, my hair my long brown curls
Black, purple, and blue dents, keepers of the memories and events that orate a tale of the ego held within. Each contusion a badge of honor and strength–the true gold metals of life.
Traveling the heartless tunnel, where I must defend, Where I must pace slowly, The Raging Wolf snarls in my glittered path. Muting the song of heartbreak with his temper, His seductiveness and lust-
The skin that I am in is my own For it is something that I could never loan It is the bark on my bones the shell on my back It is the canvas of life for the voice that I lack
Organ of immense size, enterance and barrier, we are a people obessesed. Color, clarity, cut, that's all we see. Peel it back, throw it away. Our hearts all beat,
Skin deep I'm blond, so I must be dumb, but my mind whirls faster than most. Skin deep I wear skirts, so I'm a crazy conservative, but I'm quite liberal. Skin deep I'm not skinny,
It gets so silent sometime that I wonder if God can even hear me, No one to talk to because everyone has their own problems, So to cope I throw my thoughts into a bottle, Tighten it up so no one can get to them.
Skin, Epidermis wrapped around the inner bones to perform life. Skin, Barrier to the outer adversaries Of nature. Skin, A continuous uncomprehensive Victimization from
Ginger spines Flaky sighs Powerless, You glossy-eyed Creature. I saw you there, In the crevices of my dreams Breathless, in a pool of gems Lost within the carefree
Stop the crying The bleeding, shouting— I can’t sleep. Oily unease bubbles out My knees grow heavy Throat cluttered by horror, undigested The buildings alight across the city
Honey tan skin Devoid of a single blemish uninterrupted by imperfection Soft and smooth Honey tan skin wrapped around every limb Smiling at every passerby encasing a beautiful soul
(poems go here) Obra Maestra He called onto the dirt, made the soil reflective The final ounce of life now materializing
I make a guess from this heart in my chest that he looked like the the night put to rest. He had his hood thrown over his head as it hid the blood-red shed of tears. Yes he'd been misled but instead he just looked ahead.
She tries it on, like a dress. She decides it doesn’t fit, and starts to take it off. Her skin comes, too.
I stood there one night and grace my eyes upon the sky. And said "please Angels send me a message, i need to speak with God." I' am sad Lord. My debt is building, yet from trying to better myself with school.
Pressure up the side Curls around the neck Traces every curve How does it form? Continuity turned erratic Straights transition to diagonals Questions natures laws Can anything be truly perfect?
We liked to write stories on our skin. It helped the time pass in the winter. We only hoped they would stay hidden but we sinned and sinned and sinned. Soon we gave up trying to cover-up.
The skin i'm in is the warm cozy temple, covered in chocolate designed by God The skin you call too dark or too bruised is what I hold my head up high in
I would like to be something different. Maybe if I change my habits again. Through hard work and dedication I can. Become something not as myself.
To whom it may concern: What is it about me that frightens you? Is it the way I talk? The way I walk? The way I’m shy? If you really get to know me I am a nice and sweet guy.
What a shame, how we all were treated before, False accusations, people judged the color of skin. Our potential, needs, and feelings were forgotten, ignored, Our worn and torn shoes, no one has thought to step in.
Don't Let Anyone tell you that race is Important. for it is simply - Superficial.
There’s Segregation with dark skin and light skin and everything in between I really don’t think this was Martin’s dream He wanted one nation, one people, one heart But instead we have our own blood tearing each other apart
I am no longer the beautifully tinted woman that grew up between the tropical trees and vines of the most alluring forests.