Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

If I scream…will you hear me fall?

Look at me!
A sanitized void,
white American female.
(Sounds like a curse)
Pale, homogeneous wonder-bread,
no substance, full of holes;
melted, mixed-unidentifiable aggregate.
Mass produced, from leftover parts;
molded, stamped, rejected.
German, Austrian, English, French?
A wee touch of Irish,
God only knows what else,
nothing to call mine.
An artificially fortified
cobbled together Frankenstein
with jump-started soul.
(A Brave New World?)

No real background;
no rich history, traditions,
compartmentalized stale religion.
No horror, nor pain-gifted
from tormented ancestors.
Lost, muddled racial memory;
therefore, no understanding
to empathize with.
Just poor white trash
from wrong side of tracks;
growing up with
runny nose-cringing soul,
unjustified being; no gestalt,
nothing to give.

I am here, filling
empty space;
in standardized forest,
between infinite white trees.
(If I scream...will you hear me fall?)
You see me not-be done with it!
Just give me a number; or,
really look at me and see
that I am real.

Written by Wordancer


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge