TRIBE

New Paragraph

Cultural appropriation is a dirty word.

Especially dirty, when your skin isn't translucent.

Especially inappropriate, when your eyes are shades of obsidian, 

rung through an abyss of shapes,

And your tongue can make all sorts of sounds.

I love yoga she says

but that stuff at the end,

I wonder sometimes what it means.

I love yoga for the sexy gear and the stretches that give me that bend.

These beads and the feathers look so damn sweet,

when I pair them with this vintage camisole I got down the street.

It's Friday night she giggles, the time is right she says.

Tribe is another word for gang, for club,

for BFFs with matching barrettes

that go real well with Chez Alouttes.

It's a mindset.

Alls I'm doing is appreciating the cute stuff,

gilding them through my prism of oh-so-bright,

a royalists delight.

Long-Live-The-King

What do you mean?! she says

I dance to beats, I tried Korean food once.

My love lives so openly,

I love everyone, oh yum Bao Buns.

I see no difference between you and me,

look at my friend, her name is Great Open Sea.

Cultural appropriation is a dirty word.

Dirty when we are forced to face the idol of self aggrandizement.

Dirty when our sacred words, decorate the ugliest things.

Soiled when they are used to veil the egoic alter,

Where you worship you. 

Inappropriate when you believe you can take whatever you want.

Tribal people let it rain.