Forget about what they say for one second.
And hear what I’m saying.
I don’t care what society says about you,
I love you.
You are not dangerous.
You are my sisters and my protectors.
You’re no threat to society.
But you are a threat to my heart.
There’s just something about y’all that I can’t put my finger on.
I love you, my brothers.
No, you are not a ****.
You are a man of character and integrity.
You are a scholar and very determined.
You’re the doctors that heal our wounds.
You’re the teachers that give us more knowledge about ourselves.
You’re the soldiers that fight for your Queens, Princes, and Princesses.
You’re everything that you could and will be.
You were made as royal Kings.
Outspoken are you all.
Strong in every way I could imagine.
I love the tight afros y’all rock.
Your low cut with your tapeline makes you yummy.
Those dreads on you don’t stand a chance against our hands.
And please don’t get me started with y’all wearing braids.
Please stop following up with this backward society my brothers.
You can be anything you put your mind to.
Keep your head held high and make us and you proud.
Know that I as your sister as well as your Queen loves you.
We all appreciate and admire you all.
And don’t you think you’re anything less than a handsome, melanated King.

© 2018 Mia J

Heat, in a passionate stare
Caring for a simple dream...
Waiting is a world, to wish in an avidity's care
Is a beautified season, of this history, a quiet queen?

The throne of a royal woman...
Doe's, a hallowed choice begin at home?
Antiquity would indicate, a sense of reason
Long looks at a man, and the void of what silence has done?

Anarchy in a song has sprung into view
Paces and passion, patience and promises
With an original muse, for when asking is who...
Has the voice of earthen stares and worthier cares, a being for wise?

Is new and again later, the fate come to you forth a hug?
Was youth a drama of whole liberty, or the consumption of a kiss?
Silence is forever a king to come, like a house of a wish in love?
As shrewd as this may seem, is us a season for that if this?

Shame becomes a list of anxiety, with a moment to tell...
Youth is a story of a quiet and austere generosity, you should give...
Until a shadow has been named by itself, as if a world was little...
More than faith of others, when special was a curiosity to live...

The day of pregnancy's beauty?
The song has become a human challenge, that has been won
By now; you may have noticed how droll a hap can be, for suiting...
But champion's with privilege's cloth, will become a voice for seeking eternal love...

I watched King Charles’ coronation this morning.
I’m not British and some things confused me.
For instance, they kept saying “The new king.”
New? The guy’s a boomer - at least - right?

Apparently, he is, at once, the oldest king
ever and the newest king yet.

Can we talk about the old lady with the crown?
The wrinkled one on the right of him, in white,
the crypt keeper, with genuine platinum hair.
At first, I thought that it was Charles’ mother.

But apparently, the old Queen died.
Has anyone looked into that?
Anyone who’s read Shakespeare knows
how brutal royals can be and successions,
over time, have earned a sketchy reputation.

Anyway, I wish him well. I wouldn’t want to live a life
where everyone around me moves up a notch
if something sudden and nasty happened to me.

As a young girl I was always expected to do as I was told.
Don’t be too loud, don’t talk back, don’t appear to be sassy or bold.
Mind your manners, hold your tongue, there is no space for being rude.
Tone it down, cover it up, we don’t want your black girl attitude.

Forced into boxes with no space to move.
Restricted and restrained with everything to prove.
Constantly combatting the narrative they paint.
Making us look like animals while they look like saints.

We are said to be angry, bitter and loud.
Troublesome, uneducated, following the crowd.
Masculine, impute, stubborn and broken.
Accessories, trophies that ”one” friend, the token.
These strings of disrespect will no longer be allowed.
I don’t care if I’m not polished enough, I’m unwilling to be cowed.

Take back your subtle hate and blatant prejudices all wrapped up in a bow.
Served on a platter with fluffy words of disapproval and the saying “that’s just the way things go”.

They say we are stubborn, unmovable and complacent.
Well , consider how our feelings are always compartmentalized and latent.
Our cries go unheard, our request are unmet.
No one to protect us, left on our own to fret.

This debt that we carry is too much to bare.
It’s just as heavy as the onus that  we all have to share.
We are ethereal, complex and fed up with your satire.
You can have whatever you think of me, I’m done being your Sapphire.

When we were children
My sister and I rejected
The role of princess.
They were pretty but weak--
Always needing to be rescued!
And we preferred the chiseled faces
The greater command of queens.
We stood on our beds at night,
Wool blankets turned to velvet capes.
And we declared our power
In broad, silly proclamations
Such as “Queen of the Dolls”!
Or Rulers of the Woods
That stretched off to the east
Of our little house,
That became a castle
Guarded by hooting owls
and Baskerville hounds.
Arms outstretched, our capes
Made leaping sparks
And we shouted in our glory.
After tiring of commands
We launched ourselves into the air
And for a moment, ruled the earth,
Suspended above our queendom
Until we fell onto our beds
And laughed with joy,
For were we not landing
On stacks of feathers,
Piled high to avoid a pea,
Laid there just for us?

In this wasteland of avarice, I struggle to pull silver threads
From this gray cover of smog. The sound of brittle bones aching,
Drowned out by the quaking footsteps of titans.
Men, who would be gods, push for you to play your hand.
Knowing from their fingers, have you been dealt the cards.
A deck of diamonds, devoid of Kings with hearts.
Honor has been dead, since Pride married Malice and,
Greed shacked up with strife. 21st century freedom.
A modest monetary price,
For ownership stake of your life.

Do butterflies realize their beauty,
The wonderful way in which they fly,
Or do they compare themselves to every insect
Wondering if they should hide their colorful wings with dye.

Do they admire their wing’s softness
Their calming patterns, soft and light
Or do they think there’s something wrong with them
If there's something faulty with their size

Do they hate carrying the weight
of those stunning patterned wings
Do they ask themselves why they don't look the same
Or do they realize it is because they're queens.

Do they recognize they have nothing to be jealous of.
That they’re special and unique
Those wings are part of who they are
And without them, they would just be weak.

Do butterflies realize their wings’ beauty
And know they need them to reach the sky
Because without them they would be incomplete
And would remain “butter” without “fly”.

You're a lady,
You should be treated as such nothing less,
If you're not cherished, uplifted, respected,
All the things you deserve and more,
You should wait on it,
Don't deal with nothing less,
Queens are valuable,
Your worth is priceless,
Don't let him take you for granted,
If he can't see your worth,
Leave him behind and move forward.