brison's world

i blog about fashion, food, poetry, journalism, history and entertainment because that's all i find interest in and that's all that finds interest in me.

there’s a voice in my sleep,

i can hear it when it speaks

it tells me things to do like,

where, when and to who.

it was raining, my day was failing, my heart stopped beating and i was lost with not a hint of direction. the sun was hiding, no light to guide me, i was lost and terrified. i got so scared when i couldn’t see the light, my eyes were filled with tears that i couldn’t hide. i got so breathless cause i was tired, and i will forever remember the face that saved my life.
i dont let you love what you have, i let you regret losing the best thing
the minute when everything starts to fall apart and you wish to go back and change the path, but still you can recover by walking a different path, a cleaner and straighter path, the RIGHT path.
i see life as an art line…. the art of cooking, the art of dressing, even the art of thinking. it’s beautiful how our world can become a canvas and we are allowed to paint the perfect picture for our life and the path we wish to walk.

why?

why do we discriminate?
why do we hate?
the color of our skin?
what difference does it make?
will i ever understand,
the reason for hating another man?
another man of a different color,
another man of a different race?
how dare you!?
how dare you find shame in another man’s race?
we are all colors of the world,
we must embrace our naturalism.
we are all one people.
one people of different cultures, dances, food, clothing, heritage, past, present but let our future be embedded with love and unity. to all the beautiful colors of the world.

we sell our souls, we sell our family, we give up everything just to reach the “land of the free”
it destroys or heritage, it destroys our culture, it breaks our pride, it demolishes who we are.
our forefathers died in vain for you wish to be like his opposers. our image we disguise, with make-up and hydroquinone. we strip ourselves from the pride of being who were are into this delusive image of what we wish to be.the Caribbean so rich of our soil and sunshine, of the majestic seas, the towering mountains and the strength of our people. we have lost it, lost it all. wanting and yearning to be people from the free land. we speak like them, we dress like them, we are wanting to be like them. we have nothing left of who we are and that is why i am worried about the up coming generation. may god bless you for all we have left of us are memories.