She said she has mastered the art of slavery/she could only be compared to a summer rain that came down heavily/she lived her life locked up eternally/and presumed to live life of integrity/what i saw in her was a woman of…some saw a high degree of insanity/who refused to accept her state of reality/but knocking on bins was more of a formality/only GOD knew has fate you see/and who was I to judge she/even in a society that allowed the degradation of humanity/she carried one at her back and the other on her sleeve/and all definition defined her as “mommy”…in her state of puberty/….

“….I hardly slept…trying to re-write herself…I felt the agony of failure once again in the vessels beneath my chest…her breast were touching her feet of all the babies she had….so the world sucked her whiteness and left her with black…”

She drew creativity in these reamed of familiar captions/wounded soul dressed by her past-fashion/reality stood monotonous,expired lessons/life still the teacher, faith her principle/the uniform of in-justice,rapes her beauty/hate is now the child, faith now the umbilical cord-removed away/”Mastering” the Art of Slavery-till today…

Short little something something for all the woman…who work their ass out…for life to trow sh*t right back at them…for all the mothers who silently cry…and whom my depiction pictures everyday…I shall do as i can to see another picture …that bring peace to the inner man….


–I am Mahume–©