The Blacker the Berry

 

They say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,

I say the blacker the man, the faster they shoot.

Sweet, dark fluids cover the pavements,

The blood of another man,

He’s not a berry or a hashtag,

But a father and a brother, a friend and a lover,

A lover in a world where though he represents hate, he is the target,

A lover in a world where his next breath was never guaranteed,

Villified and sexualised,

Hated and loved,

Loathed and emulated,

Never just him, he represented more than just him,

He had no choice but to, because that is how he was viewed.

They say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,

I see young black men, criminalised in their youth,

Randomly stopped and searched,

Randomly,

Randomly?

Fatherless boys become men just the same,

Rewriting the cycle but they’re still the same,

Black nonetheless,

Creating black boys,

But the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice and the blacker the man, the faster they shoot,

So fatherless black boys, become men,

Breeding black boys and then…

One random stop and search leaves their offspring fatherless again.

A cycle uninterrupted,

Mothers weep and sisters cry, girlfriends mourn and wives fear,

Fear for their sons,

Fear that their daughters will marry men like their sons,

Not because she hates her son but because she fears that her daughter will one day weep or cry or mourn or fear,

Never the problem but the victim of the problem, all because…

The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice and the blacker the man, the faster they shoot.

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. jibril says:

    SISTER PREACH!!!!

  2. Shirley says:

    Wow! Speechless! Fantastic!

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