Sad Fad

My hancock strange?
Am I, from here?
Did I, live near?
“Why ask?”

Neither one did I
say yes to,
but your guess
continued.

Hear instead
not just my name.
“I sprung from Africa!”
You laughed,
thought me dim.

Now that dashikis are in,
all of you ran
became buyers.

Right on!
On behalf of Kinte
I am kin,
a member of your clan.

Liars you are
you know
you ain’t been
doing it for awhile.
“Sssh---listen.”

Green, preen,
pull them dyed things
over baggy jeans.

Red, dead, adorn a
leather hat and shades
with a fade---it’s all that.

Smile, wide, black-n-brown
beads mingle-n-jingle,
a hit if you’re single.

Bones, stones, teeth with
no bite, bit or claw
taken miles from the Nile.

Popularity, uniformity, and propriety
end the same.
Eating mother land
with a dirty hand.
Vogue. Vogue. Vogue.