Brown

Spoiler

Alright, so this is actually a Spoken Word poem, but can be read as it is.

I’m the Brown, the son of the Green and the Red,
The Brown bred by Browns that are now long dead.

Brown this, Brown that, it’s the skin of the Earth,
You’re calling me Brown as if it’s a tragic curse?
As if the Brown that embraces me bears withered worth?
That the Brown that I wear is an anomaly birth?

Yes Brown is the color of the mud and the dirt,
Brown is the color that you picture when hurt,
Brown is the color that you never dare to taste,
Brown is the color of the animal’s waste.

But Brown is the Universe’s primitive sign,
Brown engulfs Jupiter like a thing divine,
Brown is the pride of the chocolate’s sweet,
Brown is the power at the trunk of the tree,

Brown is that scent when you sniff nature’s presence,
Brown is the cosmos at its primordial essence,
Brown is what you see when you look into my eyes,
Brown is what God came down to after a trillion tries.

Without Brown the Ocean wouldn’t kiss its sands,
Without Brown the Grass wouldn’t garnish its lands,
Without Brown Mount Everest would perish in guilt,
Without Brown your petty pretty petals would wilt.

So no I won’t do your laundry or taxes,
And no I won’t send those front-page faxes,
I refuse to drive your cabs and cook your cuisine,
I’m more than just your eight-legged brainless machine.

I’m Brown living in a white western world,
And yet my Brown stomach doesn’t twist or twirl,
For what it’s worth, I like black, brown and white girls,
I can’t wait for the mix to match and uncurl.

I’m Brown, you’re not, yet we both perceive pain,
I’m Brown, you’re not, yet we have the same brains,
I’m Brown, you’re not, why should I be ashamed?
Color this, Color that, you and I are just the same.

Wonderful job, it felt very smooth and I enjoyed reading it.

I really enjoyed this poem. In my college days, I read a lot of poetry by Black artists who were attempting to convey the struggles of consciousness experienced by Black artists (or simply individuals) in an Anglo-centric culture. A good deal of that poetry was angry (a justified anger, I think), and while highly expressive and stylistic, it also had the feature of alienating White readers. In some cases, this was the point, but I think that it is much better for those of diverse racial backgrounds to understand one another's experience, rather than be divided by it. This poem did that beautifully. This piece is very original in voice and choice of imagery, has a clean, plain style that makes it as formally accessible as it is conceptually so, and leaves me with the satisfaction of having read a piece rooted in a distinct racial/ethnic experience and having been able to participate in its spirit, rather than feeling its adversary due to the oppression wrought by my own racial heritage. It is not often than I can read a poem with such a charged social message and come away feeling this comfortable and this empathetic to an existential experience that I do not have access to. Well done!

This poem is amazing! The moral of the poem, its rhythm, its imagery...all are wonderful in my eyes! I like that you utilized some quirkiness as well, in lines such as

"Without Brown your petty pretty petals would wilt."

It's a bit of a tongue twister; I really like it! Thumbs up!

There is little if not simply nothing that makes this special. If you're going to preech, preech without the forced rhymes. Preech without calling this a poem or telling anyone you're schizophrenic--schizophrenic because a lot of the "imagery" you used was completely nonsense and you must have lost touch with reality if you thought it made sense. I get the gist of this because, one, this is very simple minded, and two, it's been done so many times before; this "I am just as good as you". And what's more is, you completely defeat your point in announcing that. If you're just as good, don't tell me, it's something I should already know. "I'm just as good" is a moot point. Arguing it highlights insecurity and defeats the purpose.
You don't look empowered, you look insecure.