Our Words

Lost Cause

My eyes
They burn
Like flames.
And ashes
Spell out
My name.
Of broken
Spitfire tongue,
A pupil
Of the madness.
A puzzle
To assemble.
Not sure
If I could start
to resemble..
The mirror
Refuses to
Even show, 
A face that I
Had begun
to know.
That girl
That was
Is never more.. 
This thing
I am is sick
At it's core. 
No there isn't
Time for
A lost cause
Isn't worth
I'd change  
Just to be free.

But this thing
Called hope



Under ominous skies
We’re cast out to sea.
To undergo trial
is our destiny. 
Our inferior vessel
Carries us through. 
Knowing our fate, 
We bravely pursue. 
The waters ahead
are not very forgiving...
Ultimately that’s the beauty in living. 




I have a questionnaire, 
for the women on the screen. 
When you devised this plan,
was your goal to torture me? 

I long to have it too,  
your breathtaking appeal. 
I'll ache until I have it,
until then I won't heal.

My efforts here are useless,
I find this to be true. 
No makeup, or strict diet,  
makes me look the way you do. 

I watch their eyes watch you, 
and they can't help but glance. 
Compared to all of you, 
I don't even stand a chance. 
"How could this be fair?" 
I now shout at the sky.  
"All I want is beauty!" 
But I get no reply.  

They don't have the answers, 
the women on the screen...
When all is said and done, 




they'd love to watch her burn...

But her hands were steady
And they weren't ready





The chilling veil of night has come;
its not the cold that's made me numb.
I'm sinking further down tonight.
I've lost all hope, I see no light.

And now the thought that comes to mind,
what better way to use my time?
To think of what all I have lost,
mistakes I've made, the pain I've caused.

I've severed ties not meant to break,
demolished things not meant to shake;
I've burned to ashes bridges too,
and long forgotten quite a few.

And though the clocks not on my side,
when darkness falls I will not hide.
For in the end I played my role...
I've lost it all, but not my soul.


Hanging Tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
They strung up a man
They say who murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where dead man called out
For his love to flee
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run
So we'd both be free
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of hope
Side by side with me
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree

I've had a few surgeries and broken some bones, and you know what? I never cried. Not. One. Time. I watched Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part I, heard Hanging Tree, and couldn't stop crying. I am a modern day dystopian character. I have always been drawn to science fiction novels and movies because I can relate to them. They are based on people of African descent...past, present, and future. Dystopian plots feature oppressed people that constantly fight to be treated as equal members of society. My people avoided capture by organizing look-out parties and staying in groups for protection. If we were caught we plotted ways to over through ships and return to our homeland. If we became slaves we met secretly and planned revolts. 
While in captivity we sang songs with embedded messages, hid our ability to read, and concealed martial arts in the form of dance. Sharecropping and Jim Crow replaced slavery and we escaped from plantations headed north & west. We built businesses and communities only to have others invade them, destroy our property and kill us. We never stopped excelling in science, math, art, history, and philosophy. The world profits from our stolen culture and imitates our greatness without recognizing us as human beings. We maintain our sanity by distracting ourselves with survival. I continue the fight of my ancestors by upholding the standards that preceded me. 
I exist in a country that tries to destroy me through institutional racism and pure fuckery. I read, write, speak, and live with the fact that I do not descend from mediocrity. I speak with like minded people and we wake up the world while thinking of creative ways to avoid surveillance. My countrymen would rather watch The Matrix, than dialogue with the people those movies are based upon. You want excitement and horror? Experiments have been done on my people, black babies have been fed to animals, and we've been placed on display in American zoos. And we're still here. Everyday is a challenge. Everyday is a struggle. Everyday I am a Dystopian-American.

Nina Hamilton