Tag Archives: donna mac



Why da peoples always looking down on us?
…. I don know.
We works, we slave for da white mane.
My churen, dey thank I was too hard on dem.
But dats what dey need.
Hard work,
too much fun make um lazy.
How dey gwoin get somewhere in life, if all dey do is play.
So yea, I made mines work , sun up to sun down.
All day.
Dey didn’t like it much, dey didn’t even like me much,
But it was fer dey own good.
I took um to chorch too.
Dey went,
dey sang in da choir.
Dey was ershels on the junior ershal boad.
Den time dey was old ‘nuf to have dey way,
Dey stopped gwoin to chorch.
Dey say, dey don’t wont to be no hypocrite.
….Dey seen too much.
Me and dey Momma
fightin, cussin,
Her sneakin,
My beatin.
Dey don’t wont no parts uh chorch.
But dey knows God….
Dey knows to pray when thangs gets hard.
I likes to think I taught um dat.
Why every body so hard on da Black mane?
Ain’t no other mane ever mess’d up?
What bout all dem slave masta’s, sneakin off to da slave quartas
In da middle of da night?
Wasn’t dey spose ta be home wif dey churen and wife?
Why we got to take all the flack jes cause we’s Black?
What we do to deserve such pain?
What God gat ‘gist the Black mane.
Make me feel like bein born a Black mane,
Is a cryin shame.
I wish I could come back and redeem my name….

Why was you always so hard on us?
All da other kids was in the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts
And you said,
Ain’t nothin to dat stuff.
Dey was always dressed so nice.
Dey Mommas gave us dey hand me downs.
Momma washed em and ironed em and we wore em
to church.
Dey worse clothes was our best clothes.
Why was we so po?
The Preacher’s kids.
I just want to know.
You work’d two , sometimes three jobs.
Ford Motor Company in the afternoons,
A janitor at night.
We had to be quiet as little church mice,
Don’t wake him up,
Shhhh, be quite.
You was like some mystery man who
slept during the day and only came out at night.
If you say, you did it for us
I beg to differ.
We never had nothin.
Momma used to steal from the grocery money
so we could go on our class field trips.
“If you want to go, don’t tell yo Daddy”
She used to say.
Why was you always so tight?
Frugal, stingy?
It just wasn’t right…
I don’t understand it to this day.

I could just keep quiet, but I’m gon talk.
I did what I saw all da utter mens do.
Dey worked and saved dey money for dem self.
One day yo wife gone finally leave you
Fo some utter mane.
Dem kids ain’t never gone be good fo nothin.
So I sent my money down south.
On some land.
Twenty acres,
going back and recapture my youth…
Dat was my plan.
Why everybody so hard on da Black man?
Nigga gotta do, what a nigga gotta do,
Scuse my French.

See, dats what I’m talking bout.
You could have chose another way, but you perpetuated the curse.
I don’t know what’s worse.
We was po and we didn’t have to be,
Because all you thought about was me, me, me


Yesterday’s Blues


Don’t cry Sister, don’t cry
Life ain’t supposed to be easy
I know you ask, why
Don’t cry, not for long anyway
Why so much pain? Why so much sorrow?
Humph, Why not?

Sister, you got something inside of you
That you haven’t tapped into yet
That gifting will cost you some tears,
and sweat!

Don’t cry, don’t cry too long
Get up from there and sing life a pretty song
What kind of song you say?
A love song,
A song full of the blues you experienced yesterday

Sing a song that only sisters understand
Sing me a song Sister
Tell me about your pain
Share with me what you learned along the way
Make me laugh and cry and sing along
Sing me a song of the blues you experienced… yesterday

I’ll dance, and sing, and shout, and sway
sing me a song, Sister
of the blues you experienced yesterday

And remember my Sister,
That was yesterday…

Free Me!


Free Me

Free Me !
When I was a little girl
my Momma would shampoo my long,
 thick, bushy, uncontrollable, hair.
shampoo, press and curl.
Ouch! Ouch!
Hush girl, I’m not hurting you!
‘Bout ten loosely braided locks fall from my thick mane.
As I sit in front of the heat vent waiting for it to tame.
Why my hair so bushy? I say to myself.
My head hurts SO bad!
Why Momma always making such a fuss over my head?
Come here girl let me comb yo hair out.
Ouch, Ouch!
If you put yo hand up here one mo time I’ll hit you with this brush
I heard Momma shout.
What is this madness all about?
Sizzle, Sizzle, sizzle went the pressing oil as the hot comb
cooked my hair to pristine silkiness.
It’s hot in here, my neck hurts, can I take a break?
I’m half way done, Please, just sit still for goodness sake!
Shampoo, comb,
comb, part and grease
that scalp.
Got to rescue this girl from the cursed African nap.
When all her work was thru, she’d say “Now don’t tell no one what I done”
Don’t you dare.
If they say, do you get your hair pressed?
Say no I don’t, cause I got good hair !
if this hair so good why do I feel so bad?
I know what I’m gonna do when I get old enough
I ain’t gonna shampoo press or curl.
I’m tired of all this deceitful stuff !
I’m gonna set my hair free
When I grow up,
I’m gonna just
be me!





Out dated, not useful, without full potential
espadrilles, bell bottoms, the diaphragm

temporary rinse, dentures, my ibookG3
old, no new updates, unable to stream

frustrated, cranky,
ready to scream!!!

who says?
some young insensitive chick

she ain’t got no style
I ain’t dead yet

I’ll hang around for a while
old ain’t nothing but a word

underneath, thee, thou, aeroplane,
electro-engineer, Negro, Chicano,

Afro, beehive, jive turkey
I’m hip

I will not die
I will not quit

I know some things now
how to live
and not fall


Keep living!