I know why the Brown Boy lost his voice

I know why the Brown Boy lost his voice
It was not that his words went unspoken
It was not his choice
It was not him unbroken

The question pointed in the wrong direction
So close but oh so out of reach
Some foul lesson
Something to teach

The mountains of opaque pounds of flesh – shiny when wet
That reflects the light in the dark
The exaggerated appendages from hungry lips to longing fingers
The taut black hairs all embracing themselves
Tufts impervious to being pulled and pushed through

I know why the Brown Boy lost his voice
Long after he once was a great singer 
A sad affair to rejoice
In which the memory lingers

Timely and lucky he was somehow born free
Remembering two sets of Four Score ago: his ancestor’s tragedy

Now ostracized by brethren with the same chocolate eyes
Resigned to ironic fear and fake disguise
He learned to swim towards strong Aryan hands
That beat him down to the size of less than a man

But all was not dreary for the precious pet
It is unfair but wary to wallow in regret
For no endangered beast can resist
Being on the hunter’s most wanted list

Captured by Masters who read from a script
Their adoration and longing seem legit
Kept and spent in ruled habitat
Doors locked from the inside at that
Spoon fed fruits laced with psychotropic substance
Legs spread with valor and reluctance…

I know why the Brown Boy lost his voice
When his screams were muffled in the pillow
The orifice once moist 
Still endless seed to sow

For sure it is his bamboozling eyes
Tortured by the sights of a million crimes
Pink and maroon beds of nails
Forward thinking of behind tales
Take a moment to notice the swagger in his strut
Do not dare to feast eyes on the delicious butt
This is of the most import
A comment with no feasible retort
When the animal escapes again and without a pack
You can never never ever never go back.

© Hokum Arts

(Inspired by “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings” by Maya Angelou)

 
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