Prejudge Me?

My melon is brown.

Chocolaty brown.

A hue honed from brazen days of labor under torrid sun. 

Unscathed by torrential rain.

I had no say or sway.

Ancestral DNA is of what I’m made.

Of semite semen fertilized by a brown woman with no name.

The first of many to come.

From whom I come 

Prejudge me?

I am no more violent than any man.

I can be.

Sweetness and vinegar flow through my veins.

My brain acute.

Do not let my brown skin fool you.

Animus as well as kindness stand in tandem despite stark contrast.

I will get with you instantly, be it may.

I am that so and so.

Prejudge me?

I am virile in femininity and tender when administering masculinity.

Powerless in potency, that I am not.

I know myself.

I'm not a female Chevalier.

Never be fooled or be damned.

I am and always will be a man.

I am a brown man.

My melon color is brown.


A rich hue honed from brazen days of torrid sun.


© emmett wheatfall


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I cannot speak for my poetry, my poetry must speak for itself.

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