I'm sporting my 
Power to the People tightly compacted
or twisted
as i strut my way through
the judgements of main stream media 
and corporate amerika 
saying, "i be what i be."
I'm feeling lightly contacted 
from this cinnamon dusted skin 
that obliges these naturally rolled roots 
that grows and stems 
from deep down muddy waters.
i harbor no complex 
about my natural state 
or the way my locks sway, 
not as in the wind, 
but more like jungle vines 
or lions mans.
on cold days i might be tucked away in a beenie 
or on sunny days just beaming. 
Souls of Black Folks i walk, 
Bob Marley shirt 
just being.
i like seeing 
the way eves look at my Afro fist pick 
when i 
pickPOPPOPpick 
my lint, wool,

my kinky, crispy, 
creatively contrapted due. 
even my sister Grace Jones' 
short, black and bold 
is better than the glue 
and attachments.

beauty enhancement 
is 1st loving they Self 
and a single twist 
or dreadz might help 
me smile these high cheek bones 
complimenting my zigzag'n cornrolls.

a stylish statement 
is a flagrant stance 
on being U! 
cultural flavors fragrant in hue 
releasing reminders that 
Black is Still Beautiful 
and coconut smelling oil is still useful 
to make my Soul glow, 
shine my Afro 
pride
to be collectively selfconscious 
and affirmative is not to be racist, 
but Divine.
Jamaica's in Japan, 
Flatbush is in France. 
Melanin is Black light from within, 
thus my pride. 
natural iz i in dark shades 
nappy roots sublime. 
don't even need a hat in winter-
got that grade A motherland texture, 
dark chocolate elixir 
with hints of 
Tigris/Euphrates.

among the ridicule i will smile 
and continue to profile 
i am We 
with my National list of Cultural style 
bathing in the warmth of being God's child

answering all stares and questions 
in a glorious way: 
"i am what i am" 
loving what God made-
simply... 
"what i am not I'll never be"-
loving this natural freedomed state.