The Pharaoh had a tomb as grand as my smile as golden as my skin and strong as my mind.
The King had a castle as rich as my blood as tall as my soul and brown as my skin tone.
The Emperor had a palace as wondrous as my laugh as mystical as my eyes and breathtaking as my craft.
Words were my armor, metaphors my weapon, intonation my deflection forcing enemies the opposite direction.
I am the Queen, the Empress, the Pharaoh’s Goddess.
Dressed in gold from head to toe nothing about my garment says modest.
Rightfully so as I've bared this cross too long to be disrespected carrying the weight of a people awaiting its resurrection.
Restoration after deflation by the efforts of our nation; a place we built by bondage without hesitation to forget the equality of man.
Doomed to erode like the beach's sand time erases our faces leaving the smirk of the white man.But here's what I don't understand.
How I can go from a Goddess, a Queen, an Empress to a slave, inhuman, inferior not even a being.
They ripped my flesh from the bone letting my blood flood the land nurturing the trees that make leaves grow red.
When the wind blows you can feel my ashes. I too was crucified next to Jesus listening to the laughter of the ethnocentric people and the fascist neo-Nazi’s with their built up evils.
They mocked my crown as royal I was beat me down and stole my self-worth mocked my country Oh Mother Africa, how they belittle you so. Making piss pots of the grounds I would call home.
Now they tear apart this man leading the country we built. Reversing the years to the grave of Emmett Till, I can feel the Klu Klux Klan breathing through my window sill.
And they tell me we live in a post-racial society. The election of a black man was done at our hands if left to the Europeans he’d still be held captive.
Excuse me if I’ve given up hope. Our education, our political system, our health care, our judicial jurisdiction, our laws, our Senate, our Nation is pitted AGAINST us.
What am I to do but look for my long lost crown and pray my Queendom returns?
Aspire that my sons and daughter’s will assume the royal throne and be the God’s and Goddesses that once controlled what we owned.
My palace was dismantled left to be handled and divided by the Republican conquerors covered in their scandals; my poor sacred land left in shambles.
The dust of dollar signs settles on the mound of my dreams, a deformed byproduct of their hate-filled schemes.
You can’t tell me not to be angry!
The poison has gone so far as to corrode the minds of my brothers.
They chase white women, Chinese women, anything that refuses the memory of Black mothers.
They turn from tradition and empathize their own institutionalization.
Ignoring the truth and running from realizations that they are Black men with responsibilities.
They are Princes, King’s, Pharaohs, Godly beings.
They leave the womb neglecting their destiny from birth as we Queen’s are left to take care of sick mother earth.
I’m not generalizing what you hear is the truth. So many throw away futures to emulate musical tunes. They are pretty boys now no longer strong men. Concerned with swag instead of being genuine.
They smash, grab, and dash damaging the image of their Queen’s yet our Goddess’s act like the trash on the videos they’ve seen.
Warped mentality from slavery and civil rights to the passive-aggressive prejudice in the Obama-McCain fights.
We’re too ignorant to realize the noose on our necks we’re about to be hung gasping for breathe, caste unto death, question of our intellect, loss of respect as if we ever had it.
Too numb, too dumb, to content to be run by a people who consistently plot our demise. Why is my skin color such a burning flame in the white man’s eyes?
If anything it should be the diamonds in my crown, the elegance of my smile, the authority in my voice, or strength of my soul…
I am a Goddess, a Queen, an Empress, now kiss the FEET of you’re Pharaoh.
