Angela Brown

How come loving you is so right
But it feels so wrong
If loving you is all I got
With you, my heart belongs, yeah
...

Brown skin you are beautiful in every way
With the way you carry yourself
Your perfect in every way
Brown skin your color is more precious
...

Black butterfly fly
Black butterfly fly
Black butterfly fly
...

I hear the sound of wind
Beating against my window pane
I hear ghosts gathering
In the misty dawn till sunrise
...

Happiness is postulate time
Of chimes and wind blowers
Compressed vibrations
Of clashing sounds
...

Every day I find myself trapped into a daily routine;
Time is beside its real, a dissident passage of
Oppression; contemplating the importance of matter;
Decision of hard work and discipline.
...

A youthful spirit retracts,
A reflection of sun light piercing
Through cast shadows of death.
...

When I fell in love, you were the one.
I was your crescendo, a metaphor for love.
I was a young thang, an innocent virgin.
I admired you from afar and fell in love at first sight.
...

The winter evening settles down

With smell of steaks in passageways.
...

I asked for Strength………
And God gave me Difficulties to make me strong.

I asked for Wisdom………
...

hold water in its cusp,
An understatement to many sleepless nights.
I am the measurement of hard times of matter,
From the amount of hours we spent together.
...

It was the bloodiest day in history
The winter's cold was as hot as the summer's heat.
And the deadliest mark in American history was foretold
It is from fear, that must have quenched God's thirst
...

Nubian sky
Black as night
Black misty dawn
Black blue-black dawn
...

One and two tie my shoes
Why am I proud
Of the skin I'm in
...

There are biases within race and culture
we are blinded by looks and divided by stature.

To live in any place is not safe on the streets
...

I know rivers
Dry, salty rivers
of the Congo, Euphrates
and Nile rivers
...

At night the invisible children are creeping.
Countless, soundless souls beseeching.
Pitching and drifting -a sea of imploring eyes,
Stuck by fate in an endless pit of sorrow and lies.
...

Baby, what's up with us
Things used to be different
You'd hold me in your arms
And tell me sweet nothings
...

It'sneither red
nor sweet.
It doesn't melt
or turn over,
...

Two blocks away
where yellow cabs
zip by without stopping
and the prostitute with the skinny legs
...