The Broken Spleen Of “Not My Queen”


Recall, the Black kids, wave at her
Decreed by, their, servile regimes
British empress; African doomsayer
A White nightmare, of, bankrupt, Black dreams!

Should we, place a wreath, on her coffin
Or spit, at her, colonial legacy
Who quietly, watched, her henchmen, sin
With, monstrosity, and lunacy!

“What a legend, she was!” every channel, blares out
Who dares, to bare, her villainy
World leaders, spare, for her, a thought
Who chose, to spurn, every litany!

Black surrender, to, White, faith and fear
Is, more than, half of, the truth, unseen
Black man, hates her, yet loves, to bear
The Broken Spleen, Of, “Not My Queen”!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra

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