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How could you decode
The white skin, the grotesque minimalism
Of color, the haunting spaces,
Hidden in slaving years,
In gardens of a white supremist god.
The seed of the white Aryan
Drowns inside bamboo yellow crevices,
As they fill naval bases in the Philippines.
While the black man further
Dilutes the basins of milky white goddesses.
And in this luster of pale,
You find toothpaste skin, making
Foul mouths kissable.
And what else is there, in this crooked
World where, white rules,
Dictated as to how everything should be done,
And not. Decoding white was perhaps easy.
A race’s search for hegemony, the snowstorms
They brewed in search of dominion
Until the black, yellow and tanned waves rose
To clutter every niche,
Dispelling that myth we were fed with – that we were no good.
And still, white, those supremely
Angelic facades, that label flesh cartons,
Are still beautiful, in Godiva stints.
And what else is more captivating
Than the rise of color, what
No avalanche of snow can bury,
Nor that little black hole in the white eye
Not seem to obliviously fall.

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