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SilencioBarnes

Writer – Poet – Lyricist

Random Thoughts

July 6, 2009

I Am Not My Hair

I was thinking about my hair. I have very nappy, kinky, unruly hair. There isn’t much I can do with it but have it braided or cut off. Personally, I don’t mind either option, but currently, I would rather have it than cut it. However, many people, especially women, presume to make that decision for me. They usually tell me to cut it. These are their arguments for cutting my hair: It will make me look more pleasing to the eye – It will make me look more professional – a low-cut or shaved head is a sign of maturity – and several variations thereof.wpid-wp-1447012980559.jpeg

As I said before, I do not have a problem with cutting my hair – but I’m not ready to do it yet. I have that particular action saved for a specific event;) What troubles me about the above-mentioned reasoning is this: I am not my hair, nor am I the person that would cut my hair to please others. I don’t have much of it, but I LOVE my nappy ass head. I like that I have natural, kinky, black hair. I like the clouds that it forms above my thoughts.

wpid-wp-1447013151304.jpeg

No matter what my hair looks like, whether it’s there or not…I am still me. My hair is naturally beautiful to me in its raw untouched form. Anything else is artificial. Well, not artificial per se, I don’t mind having something done to my hair and I certainly appreciate a nice hairdo on others, but some people take it to the extreme. Anything you do with your hair should be a personal choice and not to please another human being (unless that is your occupation or something). It bothers me that someone would fail to get a job, lose out on love, or even become some sort of outcast just off how their hair looks.

People are always looking for an excuse to judge, the shit is sickening. Everybody wants everybody else to conform to what they personally believe to be some imagined norm. My pops spit me out the tube and my moms pushed me out the womb, this is the hair I came with. I might wanna do things to it now and then, but I’ll be damned if I do it to please YOU!

Yea, sometimes it looks a lil crazy, but it’s okay by me:)

Here’s Neil Gaiman’s poem on the subject:


 

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3 comments

  1. amber says:
    July 6, 2009 at 6:37 pm

    I love your hair! LOL

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  2. Nathaniel Scates says:
    August 19, 2011 at 7:52 pm

    Right on, man! It’s good that you like what you have. A lot of people struggle with that, including me. I started finding grey hairs at 18 and by the time I was in my 30s I was almost totally grey. It screwed with my head a little bit – every time I’d walk by a mirror I’d get a little shock: who’s that old fucker following me… oh wait. : ( I actually went through a 5 or 6 year phase where I dyed it back to my original color, but that was a pain in the ass to maintain and I got less and less comfortable with having to do it. So earlier this year, I let it grow out to the steel grey it has now become. I can’t say as I’m more comfortable with it, but sooner or later I have to get used to the fact that I’m becoming an old dude. Might as well get started. lol 

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    1. Silencio Barnes says:
      August 22, 2011 at 3:42 am

      N8! Ya old bastard! How are ya?!?!

      The funny thing about that is, gray is a very distinguishing color, especially when it’s a full head of gray. I think somewhere along the line, hair become a symbol for everything we think is beautiful about ourselves. Instead of gray hair meaning time and wisdom (which is beautiful in and of itself), it became a sign of decrepit old age…which it isn’t.

      Kinda weird really. You should learn to love it and embrace. Your hair should not be that stranger that’s just…there and you tolerate em. It should be the good friend that let’s other people know that you’re comfortable with who you are…if you see what I’m trying to say with these hobbled metaphors.

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Believing in but never seeing
The Heathen, a lesser demon
It's scheming on my soul
It's infrequent but never leaving

Ether bleeding out of my pores
My spirit leaking
Soaked into the Earths rotted core
A saddened creature

A battered preacher
How to die, the radicals teach us
Students teaching the teachers
And they dying to reach us

Why is it that we shackle ourselves
Then cry for freedom
Metaphorically speaking
Our hearts are terminally weakened

Infirmaries are full of the lives we have forsaken
Mating with injustice and giving birth to complacence
Strangle life choke off our health, the end is nascent
Worshiped like a calf that is gleaming with gold plating

We clothe ourselves with spurious truth
Yet we lie naked
Corporations feed off the blood
Of dying nations

The seat of Christ is vacant
Siddhartha said time is wasting
The sound of one hand clapping
Is God getting smacked for faking

Jesus told me
"Son calm down, you're talking dangerous"
I killed myself
So I could come back as Buddha's patience

This world's a patient
In Gods House Of Sick Creations
Prescripted with a dose of common sense
That we ain't taking

Instead we medicated on war
And common hatreds
The politicians gore us with words
And pretty phrases

But really they just corporate whores
With pretty faces
Money is the root and the plant
Is grown in acres

Cultivated dug up and eaten by militainment

Barnes, Silencio. "Militainment." Sentiments of the Cerebral.

#Political #poetry about #militainment

http://bit.ly/militainment
Sometimes it looks real bleak, and you're feeling Sometimes it looks real bleak, and you're feeling bittersweet
And you think that all that you can do is just admit defeat
You try to keep the line together, but the ends won't meet
Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do just to eat

The winter's are colder, the summers bringin in more heat
Life is a struggle but when it fight you don't retreat
Fight back and if you fall remember you got feet
And if you don't, don't be scared to bite it with your teeth

You gotta put that hard work in no way around it
Find yourself real good friends and stay surrounded
Because its difficult to be alone and still stay grounded
And being miserable will only help you stay confounded

You'll make it through, no ifs ands or buts about it
Just tell yourself that, even if you gotta shout it
Think of solutions don't think about the problem got it?
Life's not automatic sometimes you need a push to start it

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from such a conflagration
would rekindle that imaginary, burning, thing
that we thought we had lost
so long ago 
She hands me the knife,
for no sacrifice is sacred
unless done by one’s own hand

We both held our breath
as I raised the blade to Our neck

And once again, as before
the sharp edge pierces only her

And she bleeds

And I, with impassive serenity,
walk away, as I have before
to leave her (bleeding out)

Her wounds will heal,
though I will provide no aide

So the scars: puckered, pulsating and fierce
shall remain

She will live, that we may play
this game, once again

Silencio Barnes. ""Our" Sacrifice." http://bit.ly/oursacrifice

#poetry about #sacrifice and #relationships
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