An Appeal To Black Mothers: Don’t Perpetuate Self-Loathing

 

 

Yesterday, I was talking with a woman who was about the same age as myself, late fifties, and she was telling me about her childhood and as she did so, I could not help but gasp because we could have been sisters growing up in the same household as her experiences mirrored my own.

She was telling me of how the police had to be called to her home damn near every weekend and multiple times during the week over domestic assault issues. She also told me about the fights; the throwing of objects at each other and whatnot that her parents engaged in. She also spoke of the insults that she endured on a regular basis coming from her own mother. She told me how growing up in that environment only made her life turn out exactly like her mother’s. She married an abusive man, put up with untold abuse until she could no longer take it and divorced his ass. She told me that to this day, she has to distance herself from her mother and that her mother gets on her case because she is looking out for her sick father. She told me that even after telling her mother that her father has no one and that she, her mother, is married and has a husband to look after her, why does she have a problem with her helping out her ailing father? Her mother in fact told her that when she dyed her hair a Kool-aid burgundy color, “You look like a nigger!”

Now for those of you who read my blog titled, “A Letter To My Mother On Her 77th Birthday! Happy Birthday Mother,” then you know that what this lady told me is exactly what you have read on that blog. Again, we could have lived in the same household because her life mirrors mine down to a “T.”

Here is an excerpt from that blog:

I am going to attempt to find the words to convey just what emotions you evoke in me mother; hate, disgust, loathing and yes…pity, for you are so despicable, nasty and hateful that no one wants to come around you and I actually pity you. I spent so many years trying to gain affection from you that was never yours to give because you hate yourself. You loathe yourself for why else would you stay with a man who, when you were pregnant with me, your first baby, threw you a quarter when you told him you were hungry and he said, upon throwing you a quarter, “Here, I wouldn’t want to see a dog hungry.” And yet you thought so little of yourself that not only did you continue to lie with that slug, you brought two more children into this world to be condemned to live with two people who hated each other. We learned to hate as well.

As you can see, it is crystal clear that many Black women loathe themselves; have no respect for themselves, feel as though they are worthless since they will settle for an abusive asshole who beats their asses and yet they stay with them year after year and those mothers take that shit out on their children. They subject their children to untold cruelties and then are pissed at their children for the rest of their life for becoming a mirror image of them. That shit’s not on your children, that shit’s on you! Your self-loathing and lack of respect for yourself is something that you never dealt with and you subjected your children to your own lack of self worth. You became a punching bag; an outlet for some no good man to take his frustrations out on. You subjected your children; those you CHOSE to bring into this world to a life of sheer torture, pain, terror, racism and some more shit and they were ill-prepared to deal with that shit! You gave them no means in which to be guided through the system of white supremacy that you know exists because you live under that oppressive system. You gave your children an added burden; the burden of trying to maneuver through a system that was evil to its core and lethal to your children while they also had the extra burden of your baggage to carry around with them. You set them up for failure. You did your best to see to it that your children would suffer, mightily. And we have. You did us no favors. We had an enemy from our own camp to set us up and then tossed us to another enemy on a battlefield on which we never stood a chance. We were not prepared because we were damaged goods already before we even knew what was going to hit us. How do you Black mothers who have done this to your children, live with yourselves? If you could not handle life as a Black woman, then why bring Black children into despair and horror that is the world you exist in that makes you loathe and hate yourself? Your children will not thank you for what you did; hurled them out into a world they were ill-prepared for and told them to sink or swim. And yet you castigated us and treated us with derision when we made decisions that mirrored your own. We took our cue from you. We learned at your knee. We looked to you. That shit’s not on us, it’s on you! You are why you hate us. You ‘gifted’ us with no silver spoons, but with tarnished hearts, battered bodies and broken minds, helpless and barely adrift in a sea of hate everywhere we turned, even when we turned to you..our mothers. What chance did we stand? How could we have turned out any better than we did? And yet you mothers of us blame us for why we are your mirror image. You act as though, we, somehow, should have emerged from a chrysalis to a well-rounded adult free from issues and with the ability to take on a world that hated the very sight of us because of our skin color.

No Black mothers! We have you to thank for refusing to realize that your actions would have consequences and those consequences would come right back to you. You get no thanks from us because you are due none. We cannot thank you for bequeathing us so little and yet expecting so much from us in return. We can only give you what you gave us; nothing more. And yet you expect much from us. Oh yes, we are YOUR children, but we are battered children. We suffer from YOUR abuse. We have “Battered Children’s Syndrome,” and it is very real. And we’re not talking merely about the physical battering of us, but more importantly, the mental battering of us. That was worse. The resulting scars from that are far more lasting and damaging than the physical ones. I can still see some of the physical damage on my body from the whippings and beatings, but by far, the mental damage is much, much worse. Where does a child turn when their own mother is their very first enemy? Where does a child turn when they face an enemy that hates them because they were born and to whom they were born hates them because she hates herself? Where? Can someone tell me? Tell us? Because there are many “me’s” out there! The lady that I spoke with told me that she thought she was the only one. I assured her that she was not. She actually sighed in relief when she heard that because she thought it was just her. Oh, how wrong she was. And oh how right I wish she had been.

And so it is true that this poem taken from that other blog to my mother is to ALL the Black children who are broken and who were broken before they ever experienced hatred from the rest of the world, but knew it coming from their own mother.

Happy Birthday Mother!

Yes, you brought me into this world;
a squalling little Black baby girl.
You belittled everything I ever did
and you beat me for nothing when I was a kid.

You want me to honor, love and respect you
when what I did was from you, take my cue.
I have never known what love is and I never will.
Not one tear for love will my eyes ever spill.

I’ve been called cold, callous and cruel,
but never have I been called, “love’s favorite fool.”
I know that this should be all about your day,
and it is in its own strange and morbid way.

There is just something that needs saying
because in this town where you live, I’m not staying.
I have come running every time you’ve ever called
and listened to each admonishment on my character, you’ve drawled.

That stops here and now because I don’t need you anymore.
I never really did but I’ve just got to settle the score.
When you talked about me to your acquaintances, that hurt.
But knowing what you are mother, I’m an expert.

I’ve watched you down through the years
send people packing with words sharper than shears.
I’ve listened to you drone on about how great you are
when you are too evil and wicked for hell by far.

You’ve got foul names for everyone you ever meet.
The language you use, the derogatory names, you bleat
to anyone who will come within your reach.
You sit on your ass and search for an invective to screech.

Then you have the nerve to wonder why you sit home alone
and that to this very day, there’s nothing for you to atone.
But your day is coming mother. It may not be here yet,
but then again, you may already be paying your debt.

Your favorite one of us died from drugs years ago
and the man you couldn’t leave hated your ass from the get-go.
Even his friends said he died to get away from you
and this I can believe because I’d do the same thing too.

So sit in your big falling down house and think,
think of all the reasons why you should take to drink.
Believe that you are good and that all others are at fault
And you’ll still deny your evilness when they lower you in that vault.

And lower you they will mother, for we must all go that route.
But don’t you think for one second that your ‘goodness’, I will tout.
You are evil personified and though I may drop dead first,
at least I’ll have the pleasure of knowing that your ass is accursed.

You will lie beside a man who hated you to the end.
Your youngest died years ago and she was a dope fiend.
And yet you blame us for problems we never placed at your door
even though you share the blame because we are what you bore!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2019 Shelby I. Courtland

To the Black mothers who are like mine and the lady that I mentioned in this blog, this is our thanks to YOU! You’ve ‘earned’ it!

💔​​Cultural Racism Is Keeping People Single💔 — The Eye Wall

Dear T.S.P. Family, I recently composed a meme where I expressed the importance of incorporating the effects systematic racism has had on American society when we’re having discussions about what a healthy romantic relationship should look like. In other words, you can’t talk about “love” without factoring in how “race” affects the way we judge the […]

via 💔​​Cultural Racism Is Keeping People Single💔 — The Eye Wall

So basically what T.S.P. is saying is that white women who date Black men have a fetish about the Big, Black buck with the huge dick, who was off limits back in the picking cotton slavery days. Black men who date white women got, “White women are submissive and won’t give me no lip” syndrome and therefore, are quite the opposite of the “Angry Black Ghetto Queen.” Black women who date white men do so because the Black man is broke-assed thanks to slavery since folks who was owned, couldn’t own a damn thing. And white men date Black women because they’ve got “My sex slave in the slave quarters” syndrome, that also is thanks in part to white men heading for the slave quarters after having not been satisfied by their white wife, AGAIN….back in the picking cotton slavery days. And some whites just have “I want to piss off my relatives by dating Blacks” syndrome and those of us who are single ain’t down with none of that. We got ourselves a big ole case of needing all up and down on some counseling.
Let me break MY situation down. I don’t date because I was married to a broke ass Black man who spent all of his earnings on the lottery and on card games played for money while I had to take care of the bills, but the thing is see, I knew he was broke assed and I married him anyway. And now that I have been divorced for quite some time, there ain’t nothing white, Black, purple or blue that’s worth me even looking at because with all of the STDs out there, if anybody thinks that I am going to dive back into the dating pool, they have got another think coming. Not to mention that if anyone has heard of the show, “The Bachelor,” then you know that the number one reason contestants are eliminated is due to STDs, namely herpes, which is incurable and many did not even know they had an STD until they tried out for that show. So, they have been spreading herpes to all and sundry. Yeah! Think about that for a minute or two. Let it sink in.
“ABC is testing for drugs—but perhaps more importantly, the network is checking for STDs.”

“As soon as the medical tests came back, you’d see that herpes was the biggest thing,” Hatta told Kaufman. “And sometimes you’d be the first person to tell a contestant that they had herpes. You’d be like, ‘Uh, you should call your doctor.’ Why? ‘We’re not going to be able to have you on our show, but you should call your doctor.’”

And with the way folks bed hop these days, I ain’t down with that. Nor am I down with having to attend every doctor’s appointment that my significant other goes to because I need to know just what the hell he is doing when I am not around. And the Black men I see in my day to day activities ALL want to know if I know how to cook! “Hell no and I ain’t yo mama!” Those old ass bastards want someone to take care of their sick asses. As long as I can remember, some old ass man has always been looking up in my face wanting me to get with them, acting like they something because our first date would be at their ‘Senior Living’ facility. Seriously??!!
I do believe that some of us don’t date because we are perfectly fine with being single. I don’t think it has everything to do with racism and who is poor and who is rich or about a fetish and because we need counseling because we as Black people have been subjected to every vile and atrocious thing whites could throw at us and so we are mentally and physically tired of the shit. We are, but at the same time, being single has its perks. You don’t have to worry about STDs. You don’t have to worry about what your ‘partner’ is doing when you’re not around; that trust issue. You don’t have to fake orgasms or feel like you are obligated to have sex with someone when you don’t want to have sex and the peace of being alone has its own benefits. You pay your own bills and have no one to drag you down with their issues because we ALL know that everyone brings baggage to the table. Some of us have gotten to a point in our lives where we find enjoyment in being single, carefree and able to do as we please. Call us selfish if you will, but I prefer to call us, “content.” And so I say, “Each to his/her own.”

Lastly, I covered some dating issues in a blog I posted a couple of years ago.

 

Through Red And Angry Eyes!

 

When I first started blogging,
I was gentle as a lamb.
But today, my rants and ravings
couldn’t compete in a poetry slam.

Oh I come out smoking hot,
full of rage and indignation
at a society of clueless cretins
who compound my own frustration.

When I said my pen was drained,
just a few short years ago,
I should have thrown in the towel,
but what kept me going was my ego.

I was such an attention seeker
who was so pleased with what I wrote,
I quite forgot to temper my anger
and on my own bile, I almost choke.

I’ve written many a poem
and what I once thought of as prose,
but now I foam at the mouth
and no poem, can I compose.

Through red and angry eyes,
I view the world with a vengeful gaze.
I no longer believe in humanity
or think there is hope for better days.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2018 Shelby I. Courtland

I remember when I first started blogging, I was inspired and had not yet been tainted by all of the things that have now made me rage and lash out at the world. I am filled with such a white hot blazing anger that some times, I quite fear that I shall go mad. I used to pen poems about the homeless and oh how sincere I was. That is why I titled this blog, “Bringing Social Issues To The Forefront,” because I wanted to highlight the societal ills that affected so many people. I wanted to try and shed a spotlight on those who are forgotten, overlooked and ignored. I wanted to shed a light on human suffering, but by doing so, I suffered for it. Those of us who are truly caring, apparently, can only take but so much before it starts tearing away at our very soul. I am becoming something I once abhorred; a cold, callous, hateful and vengeful person who has lost her way.

I cannot find in me the poetry that once used to flow so freely from my mind to my fingers. And that is why I don’t post poems anymore. I just don’t have them in me; not the ones that I look back on and read and I can tell that I put deep feeling into them; they are me. What I write now is what I have turned into.

There have been so many people that I have fallen out with who I used to hold in high esteem, but because of what I allowed in, I’ve cussed people out, called them out and have hurt people and that was never who I was, but that is who I am now. We are letting the evil that is in the very air we breathe into our bodies and that evil is building in strength and we are hating each other because we have allowed others to feed us their hate, their callousness, their disregard for human life, their greed, their selfishness and their depravity and we have, some of us that is, swallowed it down and brought it back up. We are consumed with hatred for each other like I’ve never seen before and I am quite guilty of this. Most days I am livid from the time I wake up until the time I close my eyes in sleep and I carry this around with me every single day. I do not like what I have become and if I continue to feed the flames of hatefulness that has consumed so many, I can no longer take the high road. I must admit that I am just like them.

And lastly, I did not even heed the words of my own poem, “Yield Not To Temptation!”

The Day Before My Birthday!

The day before my birthday
is a melancholy one.
I sit here contemplating
what I should do for fun.

Would a trip to New York
be just the thing for me?
 Or should I relax in the tub
and go on a shopping spree?

As I reflect on my life,
I wonder what would I miss
if I never saw another day?
 Would I still live like this?

Did I ever touch one single heart
or let someone know I cared?
Was I always just too shallow
since love, I never shared?

What a loveless life I’ve lived.
With no thought for those I hurt.
I just pack and move elsewhere
like some twenty year old flirt.

It’s always been about me.
I’ve never lived for another.
This aimless life, I choose
when faced with love, I burn rubber.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

I don’t know where this came from, I really don’t except for the fact that I always get a little maudlin around my birthday because of the fact that I’m on the ‘wrong’ side of 25 and each year causes me to reflect a little bit deeper and this year, I’ve gone even deeper.

I remember when I was a child, I could not wait for my birthday because we were treated like a princess for the day; a big birthday party with so many friends over and lots and lots of gifts and all my favorite foods including my favorite cake. And now, it’s like, WOAH! What the hell??!! It’s like before I can blink twice, it’s my birthday again and all the gifts and hoopla still don’t make up for the fact that I’m getting older and older and feeling it. Oh well. I’ll get over it. I just wondered if anyone else over 25 experiences anything similar or do you just take it all in stride. I hope not too many are like me who cannot dwell in the present, but must forever look back on the past and compare it to today, most unfavorably.

Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!

 

 

 

It would seem that TPTB want to see some sort of re-action from ‘We The People’. Will it be peaceful or will it be violent? I do believe, THEY have decided the course that the next revolution will take. And this is just a little poem to get you in the mood.

The Revolution IS Coming!

How can I be content if my brother is in pain?
I would not turn my back if I saw my sister slain.

The world has had enough and the rich should lose their head.
Those who try and stop us will lie among the dead.

Peaceful, we have tried and it only got us where?
Poor, homeless or dead, they don’t really care.

No corner of the globe should hide these thieves and liars.
Light a billion torches, fry their spying wires.

Rest is for the dead and we have no time to waste.
They must know real fear, they must have a taste.

They have played their hand and took our rights away.
Do you think we’ll get them back if only we will pray?

Stand strong and hold your ground for they cannot kill us all.
Tear down the corporate sign and breach the outer wall.

Progress must be made in one form or another.
The protests, they have squashed and dissent, they try and smother.

Hate has been their tool and we must overcome.
They treat us just like dirt and they tell us we are scum.

You should not run, you should not hide for the stakes are just too high.
And when they come for you, will you fight or will you die?

Written, by
Shelby I. Courtland
© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland

There comes a time in everyones life when they must make a choice. We have been headed in this direction for some time. Those who initiated this hellish nightmare that is going down have been preparing for this while we were distracted. And now that what is in store for us can no longer be denied, you have a choice to make. You can either go out obediently and quietly or you can make a noise before you go out. Which is it going to be? They are hoping that we will continue to acquiesce to getting our asses handed to us. They are thinking that we have, for too long, been lulled into apathy and complacency and in addition to this, they have been destroying us little by little and weakening our bodies by filling us with poisonous toxins. This was intentional. For those of you who can remember a few decades back, you can remember a time when obesity was not as prevalent as it is today. And we did not need Facebook or Twitter to help us remember what we saw with our very own eyes because back in my day, people actually talked face-to-face with one another. There were no smartphones, nor was there Skype and the like. And I for one, can remember when food tasted good and was good for you, not like this garbage that we spend much more on than we used to and quality is non-existent.

As long as we are alive, we can change things. The obstacles may seem insurmountable but the alternative is not to be endured. If we don’t take a stand, we never will. Anything that comes too easily is not worth having and when you have given something your all and you see the results, you appreciate it more. Just something to think about as you look around and wonder what in the hell happened? This is not how we are supposed to live. Too many people are hooked on drugs to escape the pain of reality and this just should not be. Too many people are imprisoned today and this was not always the case. But you must understand that psychopathic monsters have been in control of us for far too long and it is time to show them that we will not continue to aid in our demise. We will resist. That is why those worms militarized AmeriKKKa and terrorized the rest of the world into submission. They expect the status quo to remain; they expect to continue their reign of terror, brutality, destruction and death.

Those of you who have family members in police departments all across AmeriKKKa, you should be telling your daddy or your spouse or your brother, cousin, uncle, aunt or sister, if they are a cop, that you will be facing them the next time another cop kills an innocent man, woman or child. You should tell them that just because they lost their humanity, it does not mean that you have lost yours. And for those of you who have loved ones in the military, ask them if they would appreciate some general commanding them to send a drone to kill you. Ask them if they were so ordered, would they murder you for standing up to tyranny, racism, brutality and war crimes. You may not want to hear the answer, but you should know all the same, if you don’t already.

We could all play a part to ensure a better future for us all. Most of us have children and we want our children to have a future. They will not if we continue to remain hypnotized by those who would continue to control us if we allow them to. Look into the face of your child. Go outside and watch the children playing together. We used to do that. We were not always looking at skin color. I know I didn’t. When I was a child, I did not play with someone based solely on their skin color, I played with them because they were human, just like me. Just like us all! Why did we, collectively, move away from each other; physically, spiritually and emotionally? If you can answer that question, honestly, then that is a start!

I Am Searching For Something I Will Never Find

I am searching for something I will never find;
a love so pure and ethereal of some kind.
Lost in a dream world of fantasy and books;
tired of love based on money and looks.

Earthy passion has no place for me.
Too scared I’ll get up with an STD.
Only lust and sex are intertwined
and to believe any different is asinine.

The times we live in are scary as hell.
And then you find yourself alone as well.
The man you think of as only yours
is out driving around in search of whores.

But you say you love him and you need a man.
You need wisdom because he has a plan.
He will use you and he may speak of love
while knowing full well what he’s guilty of.

When he is in your bed, he is thinking of her.
You see, he is a pro and you’re just an amateur.
And you turn to him and you look into his eyes,
not even seeing the telltale signs of lies.

Oh yes, the times we live in are scary indeed.
He is your addiction, on which you feed.
And he is one more reason to lose all trust.
You see, men will be men and they’re all ruled by lust.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

Ladies, be careful out there. Because this is real, as real as it gets. Men are ruled by lust, lust for power, money and sex. Anything else is secondary and that means, you. Just take a look around. What do you see? Who are called, ‘the powerbrokers’? How many times have you heard of ‘The Boy’s Club’? Oh, it’s exclusive, alright and it ‘excludes’ you. You are to only be seen at the proper time and under the proper circumstances. Men tell you what to look like as in how many cosmetic surgery procedures you must undergo to achieve ‘the look’ as established by men. Men tell you what to wear, how to style your hair, even down to the stiletto heels you must wear because men have decided that you must suffer deformities in order to look sexy and you do it. You do everything men tell you to do and quite frankly, I wonder is it really for love or for something else? Search within yourself, you’ll find the answers. And many of you, already know them. Be honest with yourself and about what men want and what they are.

On The Wings Of A Dove

Of star-crossed lovers and unrequited love,
 two hearts never to beat as one.
For time and infinite space doth conspire
 to shield would be lovers from the sun.

No escape from the coldness of the grave.
Where once upon a time, there was nary a care.
For love does not dwell in deep and dark places,
 but must breathe the pure and life-giving air.

The stories handed down through the years
 tell of lovers who would meet and then part.
And of a pact made, but never kept.
For fate was destined to break each lover’s heart.

Tristan and Isolde and Romeo and Juliet,
Antony and Cleopatra, to name a few.
Some were real and others, the stuff of legend,
 tell a tale of love that is not always, straight and true.

Poets have tried and quite often failed
 in their attempts to describe the depths to love,
 and how true love transcends the physical limitations
 of mere mortal bodies, whose spirits soar on the wings of a dove.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

I Want A White Lover!

I want a white lover
so we can mix our blood
and destroy my people
like Noah’s flood.

I want a white lover.
I don’t care about me
or the fact that our children
won’t know their history.

I want a white lover
in my bed tonight.
I’m hungry for his love
and it feels so right.

I want a white lover;
a Black man won’t do.
I need a white man
to prove my worth; my value.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

Now, I believe that my readers are smart enough to read between the lines and to know the true meaning of this poem. This poem was written because as I stated earlier in another poem of mine, I have been sitting back quietly watching the shit hit the fan. I noticed how all hell broke loose when Beyoncé Knowles put on a Super Bowl Half-time show that depicted certain images that stand for Black power, The Black Panthers and Black Lives Matter and that white folks by the scores took offense. To those who took offense, fuck you! And to the Black motherfuckers that are looking in the face of your white mate and the children you produced with him/her, fuck you too.

I will admit that I went out on a date with a ‘white’ man and it was the mistake of my life and that shit will never happen again. Much more to the point is that I could never lie down with a white man and produce a half and half. Not going to happen. I refuse to contribute to the dilution of the Afrikan blood that is running through my veins. The white motherfuckers are hell bent on getting that done. It is shoved down our throats, daily; in print, on the big screen and on the little screen. This is exactly why I refuse to purchase a TV. I will not have that constant ‘in our face’ shit that whites who control the media feed us. I will not be subliminally messaged that interracial dating and marriage is ‘hip’; a la mode.

The main focus seems to be to pair Black women with white men and yet in the not so distant past, Black men were lynched for merely looking at a white woman. But no Black man had better lynch a white man for looking at a Black woman and quite frankly, it does not seem that Black women are having a problem with white men not just looking at them, but also fucking them eight ways to Sunday. The same can be said for the white women that lust all up and down on some Black men. So, what is this? Payback for the fact that the white shits that control the media can’t stop white women from lusting after and craving Black men and so they now focus on Black women lusting after white men? Those see-through skinned shits are the devil’s own spawn and the reason why Black women, children and men are shot dead, daily on the mean streets of every shitty city in this shithole called, AmeriKKKa! I will not condone the destruction of the Negro race by dead white filth.

So, come on up in here with some shit and I promise to wipe the cyber floor with your ass! I fucking dare you to post some shit about let’s all come together and sing, “Kumbaya!” The white motherfuckers have stole everything from us and to continue to get this done is to mix our blood with theirs, thereby diluting us out of history. We are not even in the goddamn history books, as it is. Or if so, by way of lies, lies and damn lies of Black people having immigrated to AmeriKKKa to work good paying jobs alongside the Irish and other immigrants or the lie that happy slaves baked birthday cakes for presidents. The lies just never stop and the genocide of the Black populace never stops.

You say, you should be able to love who you want. Okay, that’s fair. But answer this. What thing can love? Because only a thing could continuously commit genocide against humans; Indians and Negros. And so, that thing, Black folks, that you think loves you, cannot. How many white children have been poisoned like the Black children in Flint, MI were poisoned? How many whites live on Reservations? How many white KKKops have filled Black bodies with hundreds of bullets? The numbers are astounding. How many racist white judges have sentenced innocent Black people to death row? The numbers are astounding. How many racist white women have screamed “Rape” when caught with a Black man and got out of any ‘trouble’ by doing so and an innocent Black man was lynched or imprisoned? That shit can’t love you because it’s not human! But you’ll have to wait until it calls you or your children “Nigger!” before you figure it out! Hope that its not holding an assault weapon when it does! You’ll certainly know your worth; your value, then! You can’t marry your way into ‘white privilege’, you’ve got to be born with ‘white privilege’ and Black-assed as you are, you’ll never qualify!

Love Yourself, No Matter What!

She looked at the world through a veil of tears.
She felt she’d wasted so many years.
Her enemies hung her out to dry.
They told her, she would never fly.

With broken wings, she fell to the ground
and she never uttered a sound.
She accepted the lies they told.
She bought everything they sold.

She would stop after each false start;
afraid to follow her own heart.
She blamed the shit in her life on fate;
felt she’d waited ‘til it was too late.

Life had surely passed her by.
And she never questioned, “Why?”
But what she failed to understand
is that life can never, ever be planned.

There are pitfalls and highs and lows,
and those you think are friends are foes.
Never settle for second best.
You’ll feel cursed and you’ll feel blessed.

So love yourself, no matter what.
Hold your head up girl and strut!
Turn, “I can’t!” into “Yes, I can!”
And stop listening to the lies of man!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland

©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

 

There is so much goddamn shit going on in my life right now that I had begun to doubt myself and my strength because as much as I rail against the injustices I see perpetrated against the innocent every single day, I felt impotent. I have let myself become jaded, pessimistic and my attitude became that of a defeatist. I wondered what happened to my fire; to my spirit. Had all that makes me ,me, fled? I truly felt so! Have I recovered? No, but I am working on it! I will pick myself up, dust myself off and so long as there is breath in my body, what weapons are at my disposal, I will use them to fight back. I will not surrender to defeat! Never!

Torment!

There is nothing in my soul but torment!
I look around at what is happening in total bewilderment.
Beautiful and deep poetry from my soul is dead
thanks in part to the fact that each new day, I dread.
For what is there for me to look forward to?
Only anguish, tears and bloodshed do I see
and this does not for a moment, set me free!
Torment is in my soul and there it shall remain!
 The song I sing is a lament and so too is its sad refrain.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

©2015 Shelby I. Courtland