Crystal Belle's Blog

July 14, 2010

Niggas are playing basketball

Standing tall in public stalls

Of exploitation

Led by NBA commissioners

Positions allow players

To point guard layers

Of paychecks

That scream:

Run nigger, run!"

Don't stand under the forward sun

'Cuz you'll get blacker

And blacker only means

You'll run up and down the court more.


Don't forget your athletic chores

Score at least 15 points per game

In order to claim the bodies of your groupies

For you are a trophy Black star

And in this arena your tar

Is

Accepted

Expected

Respected

span

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Published on July 14, 2010 06:10 • 314 views

July 7, 2010

Remember the day you

discovered you were a woman?

Blood in between your legs,

breasts burgeoning from your

once flat chest.

You told your friends about it,

proud of your graduation into grace.


Remember the day you

left home with the man in the

shiny car? He told you just how

nice your face looked when you

smiled; your baby teeth had just left.


Remember the first time he

took your sanity? He forced you

to work the track and to

shut the fuck of up before he

killed your...

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Published on July 07, 2010 09:47 • 136 views

June 10, 2010

1.

You thought I was afraid of

Your privilege,

Forgetting that I had my own

Carved out just for Blackies like me.

When you speak {to me} your jargon is transparent

Reflecting your ownership of thoughts and bodies.

My consternation is something you cannot have

Nor can you step down on my thoughts that run like Rogues.

Mr. Big White Man, my plans are my own now.

I will not plow for you

I will not cower for you

So

Do not tower over me

Or shower me with contempt

2.

span

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Published on June 10, 2010 10:08 • 163 views

May 29, 2010

the love in my soul grows cold
from consumerist lesions and smiles that are painted on with invisible hands.
yet still, supply and demand
are people's pick-me-ups
and the sweet scent of positivity is considered corrupt.

when it rains, the sky drops pieces of the pie I can never attain
despite my wealth of spirit.
but I go to work every day, praying for the change that was promised.
I don't want to be rich, only heard
by those who write the checks and protect the peace of power.

outside of my tenement w...
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Published on May 29, 2010 08:46 • 128 views

April 24, 2010


They found her dead on Eastern Parkway

with a pink ipod in the palm of her hand; it was still playing:

Jimi Hendrix- "Cocaine."

The concrete didn't recognize the color of her skin, nor the color

Of her eyes. It did however recognize that her body was foreign-- transplanted from some unknown space in a forbidden placecenturies before.
Her hair was a deep shade of red, one that made blood look dullon white tiles. This hair was combined of wool and wires but straight at the ends.
"She's a goner...
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Published on April 24, 2010 08:54 • 169 views

March 15, 2010

we only call him when we need something,usually some grass, the one you taste when
you want to forget.

he is a small man with small hands and colorful hair.
nobody ever sees him, except when you call him for the Stuff.

his name: Choco.

last night we called him. we wanted an aphrodisac. something to make our bed brighter.

"hello?"

"yeah this is Blue. i need a dime."

"cool, meet me downstairs."

we go downstairs to wait for Choco. the air is cool but not cold, reminding you and i that spring is on its...
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Published on March 15, 2010 12:37 • 142 views

March 14, 2010

Have you ever wondered what happens to the mirror after your visage has taken a view?
The glass remains shiny, brilliant,
almost as if a face had never appeared before its presence.
And yet this glass has all of the power
To make you or break you in two.

You think about People magazine and the most beautiful people list
wanting to enlist in that lifestyle.
But according to the mirror your smile is not enough
because it is not bleached, polished, fabricated, forced to be better.

There are several mirro...
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Published on March 14, 2010 11:36 • 146 views

February 16, 2010

too Dead to attend his wedding later that day,
he lay in a pool of purple blood.
Black. Brown. Dark. his. Skin. shined
as his fiancée cried
out to a world that
could not hear her or the two children
that didn't cry
because they did not yet understand.

what good is understanding
when 50 shots can be justified by justice paradigms
that define your worth by your hue
and your intelligence by I.Q.s?

bang, bang, bang, bang, bang
now multiply that by ten and what do you get?
another unfed child in a single...
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Published on February 16, 2010 16:26 • 128 views

February 1, 2010

it's not fair that concrete is heavier than the feathers
trapped under his skin,
nor is it fair that he cannot win
just because his body isn't qualified to play.

she gave birth to him, in a playground
where rounds of rage were served daily near the bodega
and the enigma of the White, White house
on the High, High hill
is what
managed to kill the entire community.

he looked like magic, but everybody thought
he was a curse
so he cursed when he spoke
and stole when he could so that what he should be
he was
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Published on February 01, 2010 16:26 • 136 views

January 25, 2010

before you hate us
walk four hundred years in our skin
shoes just won't do for you
neither will stealing our blues and making millions off of it in vain
while we feel the pain
the disdain you feel for we
you'll see through eyes behind the flesh that you detest
making pigment protest on streets built by callous hands
while water hoses create death on demand
imagine the abnormality of the reality
you hanging from trees
the strangest of fruit, your truth
but who cares about the truth
when your rainbow isn't ...
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Published on January 25, 2010 15:47 • 147 views