"I HAVE A DREAM OF MANY COLORS"
"MFLB"
"SANDY BLAND"
"WE MATTER"
"CRIMSON STAINED"
Your hands are covered in blood
Can you feel the experiences of the lives you took?
Can you hear their cries whispering on the wind?
To live a life without mercy is bleak
To live a life without grace is cruel
To live a life of service is gold
And isn’t riches what you seek?
Crossing oceans, crossing seas
You pillage and rape both land and people as you please
Crossing rivers, crossing streams
You lie and destroy all because of your greed
Bathe your hands in milk, drench them in ivory liquid
For their color is unnatural—stained burgundy and crimson
Scarlet lines detail your knuckles; the deepest ruby—burrowed within the crevices slashing across your palms
Dip them to camouflage the rouge
Alas, it’s no use
They won’t ever come clean,
They’ve buried too many souls beneath the green
So lower to your knees with palms upwards and outstretched,
A sacrificial life rooted in servitude
Is the only way to bring about light
From below you see more clearly,
You realize you’re nothing but mere dirt
For when we die we all resume—
Ashes to feed Mother Earth
ASL | 2.1.19
"PHILANDO"
Another body
Another day
I weep to the Lord as I pray
“When will we matter? When will things change?”
This becomes a too often prayer
Slain then vilified,
The tables always turned against us
Countless Black bodies forced to return to dust
Four centuries gone, and black is still “wrong”
Though godly and bright
They see us as thugs— like it’s a birth right
Blacks remain the prime candidates to be targeted, dehumanized and locked up for hate,
If a cop sees black, they shoot—
they don’t hesitate
And still
We hope, we wait—
But our murders remain free
“When will we matter Lord? When will things change?”
Each tear, each word
are released with pain
No peace, no justice
A heavy heart in my chest remains—
Thudding dully each heartbeat a wordless cry
When will we matter?
Why do we have to die?
Abba, I’m drowning from the pain I feel inside!
Countless time I’ve asked these questions,
But the answer doesn’t resonate
For through it all, somehow,
I still don’t comprehend hate
Cop, “vigilante,” or just a nonBlack,
in America you’re given a license—
“Kill the coons!” “String up the niggers!”
There’s no repercussions—just a devastating lack
No stigma
No shame
In the land of the free we’re open game
Gun rights and free speech—
These are the priorities
Wake up! We need change
Forget first world frivolities
These are lives
We are people
We don’t even have to possess the American Dream
For our Dreams are like Dr. Martin Luther King’s
We just long to be Free
ASL | 6.6.17
Bio
Born and raised in Long Beach and Compton, California, Alyssa Smith-Lee has been creating art since the age of five. Though self-taught, her work is heavily influenced by the techniques and naturalism of both Bob Ross and Claude Monet.
Smith-Lee completed a BA in Communications at CSU-Dominguez Hills before moving to the Bay Area where she worked in Digital Advertising. Tired of being a lone Black voice in her career, she relocated to NYC, where she began pursuing art as a full-time career, establishing Peace of Kingdom and Prncsslyssaart in April 2018.
Smith-Lee is versed in several mediums, but oil, acrylic, ink, and watercolor are her preferred materials. Using her fingers, brushes, and sponges, Smith-Lee explores textures and colors as a way to bring peace and joy to viewers.
Website: https://prncsslyssa.com/
Blog: We Matter
Instagram: @prncsslyssaart
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/prncsslyssaart/
Twitter: @pRncssLyssa
No comments:
Post a Comment