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Johnnie Taylor Best

I wrote a poem once
declaring my love for loud laughter 
in low, loud, funky places

The wo/man assigned to be my mother
pretended to be proud
pretended to be my champion
pretended s/he loved Me, 
everything about me

But, s/he never missed an opportunity 
to remind me that I was Too BLACK!

That I was still a Black Bastard, 
the raggedy daddy s/he gave me at age eight, 
the low whore snatched back when I was  fifty eight

Well, racist bitch, 
I was never too Black!

your dumb , lazy, jealous, envious ass,  
was just too racist

Yes, I do thank you for being you, 
not only was I made better
by Sixty-Two years of unending plots and "sacks", ignorant voodoo, conjure, lies disguised as true love, 
I find it easy to identify ever trimp-er that pops off in my face, 
just waiting to get slayed by 
MY Redeemer

BEAMING!!!

*******THE GWEN DOSTER DIARIES*******
Monday, April 5, 2021

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