Author
Poet
Screenwriter
Hoodlum
Breeze Vincinz
BREEZE LOVE SOUL
DESCENDANT
© Breeze Vincinz
I'm the great-grandson of the bitches you couldn’t turn
Trying to make me a receptacle of all your pain
I'm the great-grandson of the witches you couldn’t burn
Singing my stolen songs will not stop your rain
Trying to make me a receptacle of all your pain
These buildings you built that slice through the clouds
Singing my stolen songs will not stop your rain
Built on the ground that my people plowed
These buildings you built that slice through the clouds
Millions of colors that exist from the poles to the equator
Built on the ground that my people plowed
Demonize my skin when it was assigned by the creator
Millions of colors that exist from the poles to the equator
You start these wars because you think my goal is domination
Demonize my skin when it was assigned by the creator
My goal is survival, the rest is your imagination
You start these wars because you think my goal is domination
I'm the great grandson of the witches you couldn’t burn
My goal is survival, the rest is your imagination
I'm the great grandson of the bitches you couldn’t turn
Being the product of a single-mother home, I am a part of a specific fraternity of Black men who grew our masculinity from a soil rich with womanist ideals... shit that a lot of proudly ignorant misogynists mock, demean, and malign. What I can tell you is that my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all shared the same name, and as a kid, I always thought that was magical. I always felt lucky and blessed to be a part of that particular holy trinity. I wrote this poem as an ode to both that fraternity and the trinity itself, and while two-parent homes are indeed strong and loving, don’t ever sleep on the single mothers or their descendants. We hold some magic you’ll never understand.
Writer's Notes
Writer's Notes
Being the product of a single-mother home, I am a part of a specific fraternity of Black men who grew our masculinity from a soil rich with womanist ideals... shit that a lot of proudly ignorant misogynists mock, demean, and malign. What I can tell you is that my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all shared the same name, and as a kid, I always thought that was magical. I always felt lucky and blessed to be a part of that particular holy trinity. I wrote this poem as an ode to both that fraternity and the trinity itself, and while two-parent homes are indeed strong and loving, don’t ever sleep on the single mothers or their descendants. We hold some magic you’ll never understand.
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