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  DR. KISHONNA GRAY

game over

3/6/2017

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 What if I told you we were here before
Inhabitants of a land 
Sacred to our core
From the Black Hills to Badlands
Defacing can’t restore
Rape, pillage, constant exploit
 
Your Game is Over

What if I told you we were here before
Solidifying our existence by the Reddy Roar
Impregnated by dominance
Your Oppression I bore
No longer submissive
We won’t take no more
 
Your Game is Over
 
Bearing the weight of a table that was not meant for me
Setting four places
But all I get is a peek
Every now and again you get the decency
to speak 
Asking how oppression is going but never once stop to see
That you only enjoy your luxuries here because of me
 
Your Game is Over

“George, take a second rest, slumber and have tea”
I take you up on your offer
Place my eyes upon your coffers
And remind you once again
That my name is Malik
 
I hail from a home that you were too blind to see
Land of the brave and home of the free
Committing heists at high seas and you
Could only see
Uranium, Gold, Copper, and Me

Your Game is Over
 
What if I told you we were here before?
Sitting at the table while you ignore
My ordained task from above
Oh, Another glass? I’ll pour
My job as your slave
Are my chores

Your Game is Over
 
You got it wrong
See, you misunderstood
My creation from your side meant that I should
Stand right next to you as equals would

But the role you asked me to fill
I was glad to oblige
Your helpmate and wife
Your direction I would abide 
 
But that Game is Over

Oh, that extra space I created was meant for me
But you gave it away and called it network opportunities
When I reminded you 
You had the audacity
to call it affirmative action…hmph
 
Your Game is Over

Mansplain my pain away
Chalk it up to some biological inferiority
But in reality 
You created the rules of my exclusion because you could not compete
With my intellect and grace 
And assumed it had to be
A condition of my nature 
Without being able to see
That my femininity is what makes it great
But because you can't comprehend
my complexities you relegate
 
Me to the kitchen

But you fail to see
I'm stirring up a plan
I'm mixing up my plot
I take my time and bake it right because you must be stopped
Your tyrannical existence must be brought to the fore
We will stand for second class, no, not no more
 
Your Game is Over
 
What if I told you we were here before
Beta testing for years 
Constantly ignored
Propelled your favorite pastime to its current lore
Spending my mamas last 
Because it only took a coin

Your Game is Over
 
What if I told you we were here before
The pain of the abuse you long ignored
Because you sent your henchman
down to control
So now we take to these streets
To remind the world 
 
Your Game is Over

We say the system is flawed
We know…it’s your design
The results of this system continues to yield you blind
It was always meant to control us
Our Bodies maybe…but never min’
 
Your Game is Over
 
You keep us tied to these trees
Blame us for our existence
And continue to overlook
That lie you sold us and put it in a book
One that would send us to hell if we dared look
In between the pages that stuck
Together to hide the lies of the dreams you took

And tossed overboard while reading the middle passage

Your Game is Over
 
Put down the Controller
No more leveling up
The end is near
There are no blocks that you can one up
Prepare for the boss
Your hand has been revealed
You been renigging forever
It’s time for a Redeal
 
Game Over
 
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Black Girl Magic: An Ode to Gynnya McMillen

1/31/2016

2 Comments

 
The ebbs and flows of that Black Girl Magic
Don’t let them frame the narrative
It may be sad but never tragic
 
Our essence is a constant source
Merely resituating existences
Something like that soul force
 
We don’t need physical aids for you to feel this power
The fertilization process…
The beauty of that flower
 
That Black Girl Magic
Yeah it ebbs and flows
The recurring, rhythmic pattern
Of the Blackness it glows
The power in the beauty
On our faces it shows
 
Hidden in our vault
Trapped in our gait
Dissected, lynched, and maimed
Many have tried to replicate
No bullet can penetrate
This Blackness
No one can take
The last breath
Of that beautiful dream
The one that keeps us saying long live the King
 
Land of the free because of our brave
Reflecting on that ultimate sacrifice that our ancestors gave
Maya said it the best
I am the hope and the dream of the slave
 
The Black Girl Magic?
Yeah, the recipe is intact
Give em a little taste
Sprinkle some of this..Some of that…
 
So where did it come from
So many narratives they omit
The secrets been locked away
But at creation we were equipped
We’re the yin to our own yang
You need a decipher to get
 
The things you can’t discern
The likeness you can’t perceive
The misinterpretations
Is a reason that we constantly have to grieve
 
Say Her Name
 
The list keeps growing
Its like an awful dream
But their spirits are with us
Long live these queens
 
Tanisha, Miriam, Sarah Lee, Aiyana
Bettie, Yvette, Sharon, Darnesha
Alberta, Shantel, Jessie, Rekia
Sandra, Meagan, and now sweet Gynnya
2 Comments

dear white professor

12/3/2015

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A message to academia....
By Kishonna L Gray, PhD

Dear white professor
I am one of your students
I want to talk about Ferguson 
Do you have a few moments? 

This entire semester
We’ve been waiting and hoping
Waiting for the moment
For the discussion to open

To talk about the reality
That black people exist
But by your avoidance
IT’s a  topic you resist

This issue is more 
Than just black and white
From what you’ve taught me
It’s a lot of people’s plights

But here in this moment
It is they who suffer
but because of your privilege
You dare not utter

The words.  The reality
The suffering.  The pain
Of bullets being riddled
Black bodies being slain

Regardless of your position
No matter your stance
We must take the time
Open your eyes and glance

Yes I’m privileged
I don’t have to look
But ignoring serves no purpose 
These live are being took

By a system that’s flawed
Blemished by design
Rooted in the history
Hanging from the pines

These are things you taught us
We learned them everyday
History is repeating itself
Sociology hit replay

The movement is no different
Criminology can’t you see
You’re replicating a pattern
That’s not woven for me

Communications you’re not neutral
Neither are you fair and balanced
Your reporters are in the field
Protesters they are silenced

Cultural studies thank you
For being at the front of the fight
But it’s gonna take more, you see
For us to take back the night

Communities are gripped with fear
Businesses thay can manage
The protesters have a point to make
When property is being damaged
 
In our capitalist society
Goods are worth more than life
People are more up in arms
Without Christmas tree lights

I recognize my privilege. 
You taught me all about it. 
Do you live what you teach? 
Or is it time to recommit

Remember why you’re here
I’m starting to feel diminished
You have a responsibility to teach me
Your job maybe you should relinquish

They said hands up. 
I said don’t shoot. 
You took that as a threat
We’re not dangerous to you. 

It was an act of resistance
Of solidarity, unity, and peace. 
For all my brothers and sisters
White allies please increase
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She Graduated....For Rape Survivors

12/3/2015

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​SHE GRADUATED
BY KISHONNA L GRAY
 
Mama I made it
Yeah I graduated
This feeling that I feel has got me so elated
The degree is conferred
The biggest lesson I learned?
Wasn’t in the classroom
So no grade could I earn
The point and objective is that the
Dream is deferred
Progress deterred
Because when we fight and we’re not heard
We have to yearn
For a system that is better
Wrote the note a long time ago
There is no loan that can repay this debtor
I don’t have no major
What you think I was trying to fake it
Nah ma, I wasn’t even supposed to make it
Let the stats show that me in this body
Are more likely to raped or Harassed b/c I’m naughty
Let them tell it
You sent me here to avoid that shit in the street
Thought I would meet
Some sweet co-ed and bring him home to greet
Mama you see the report?
Yeah the retweet
The court of Public opinion is the jury I have to beat
Constantly questioned.
Constantly denied.
Not being believed because of some man’s lies
 
But mama I learned more
I probably should have never told
What happened to me next
Would burn your soul
 
You know what else
I learned that because of my gender
I’m not valued as a true member
Of this patriarchal society
That would rather have me be
Forced on my back than to give me any kind of equality
Put me on my back that’s what he did
But because I didn’t fight back…
They couldn’t get rid
Of that reasonable doubt that maybe she did
Enough to lead him on
I did say no but that wasn’t enough
There should have been some bruises or marks
Something more to show
Because it was my fault
Yeah I went to that party
Yeah I had that drink
And the rules of society would have you think
In his eyes that shot was my consent
I should not have spent
Any more moments with him
 I would have never dreamt
 
The experiences of one but let the real numbers show
In reality let the truth be told
Progress will come but with a hefty toll
The price on my body my mind and my soul
Having to endure the trauma
Of a system that cares less for our daughters sistas and mamas
 
But I guess I shouldn’t be mad
No matter how long we’ve waited
Yeah I guess I’m proud.
Look mama
I graduated
 
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MARKED BODIES

12/3/2015

0 Comments

 
       
Marked bodies
Marked since birth
Marked with beauty       
Marked with a curse
 
Marked cuz we’re black
Marked cuz we’re poor
Marked cuz our society
Always wants more
 
America the beautiful
America the marred
America the dream
America the scarred
 
They live to want it
We die to flaunt it
Worship it so much
They put God’s face on it
                                                                    
Dying for them Nikes
Dying for that check
Dying cuz we’re fattening
The White man’s check
 
 Keeping us in check
Keeping us in control
Sell the illusion of the vote
The Ballot and the poll
 
Money dropping like rain
Falling on our scars
Lashes from the profits
Pain in these bars
 
Poverty defines us
Wealth reminds us
That our worth is only rooted
In the bling that surrounds us
 
So when it rains and it pours
Remember that thirst
Cuz their sole intent
Is to send my brothers to the hearse
 
They are marking us for something
Marking us for nothing
Selling false dreams
But my brothers they are Kings
 
 My sisters they are queens
Created with Love
Designed for peace
Sent from above
 
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    from the poetic mind of Olivia Keene...(my mama gave me that pen name)

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  • WELCOME
  • GIVEAWAYS
  • ABOUT ME
  • BOOKS
  • CURRICULUM VITAE
  • LECTURES, KEYNOTES, AND MEDIA APPEARANCES
  • STUDENT RESOURCES
  • CONTACT INF0
    • CONSULTING SERVICES