Tuesday, 13 June 2017

Heart Was In My Hair

Tell me what you see?
An altered version of me,
free from my locks,
but my hair was
never the key.

I went through
different images,
Afro in primary,
no man wants his
mother messing with the 
clippers and scissors,
but I did get pinned down
to get out my knots,
my mum with the comb
came like ten jack the rippers.

eczema took over
my hair,
left holes
in my image,
my looks
I could not bare,
I compensated
with humour,
but underneath
in truth...
I felt despair.

It grew back,
let my friend
cut the patch,
so all can grow back,
after I said 
"no more barbers"
I brought the 70's back,
my west friends 
use to dress me up
in all their 70's swag,
my east man
gave me that
hip hop image,
on a lazy day
just a throwback,
hat and du-rag.

By collage my hair
was balling like 
A...I... was 3,
had my afro pick,
like Ludacris in
southern hospitality,
as well as my main
girl Special K
to help me
stay beautiful
in my reality.

After collage
I was on my
verge to have
my first son,
so became like
my father
and a new
hair journey begun.

My Locks gave me
a new image,
they also made me study
more knowledge,
I had to pay all
the wise Rastas
who help me grow
nothing but homage.

 No I was not
though I became a
in sync with what
the hair wanted,
dread or alive
like peter tosh
when they
stopped and search,
I would fuck 
off an authoritarian. 

The hair was not 
for fashion,
way before
little wayne,
fuck a Fetty Wap
reggae consciousness,
no set trend wac rap.

Hair got so long
girls thought
it was fake,
weave also
sewed in envy,
because they never
lived their natural way,
because most
of my sisters
follow social status quo,
knowing they will
get that job
if their hair is straight.

My hair meant
a lot to me,
the image
gave me persona,
right now I am the
opposite of Mona,
no smile inside,
like a new born,
I want to cry,
as much as
I hate my new look,
people are giving
it a like,
a reason to keep
my head high.

Thank you locks
my queen who
gave them
a constant wash,
hello afro again,
time to style you
for all the time we lost
before hair loss.

A shout out to my
block Mummy
for maintaing my look,
you will get me
out of this cocoon,
a yellow butterfly
will appear with a
fly black afro bush.

1 comment:

  1. I love it.. very unusual topic to talk about.. I love how symbolic your lines are ! Our hair is a part of the whole.. it is us who try change and change to meet the social quo.. though we might not want to confirm.. I admire the rebellious spirit you have..dear friend :))