♛ ♛ ♛
Martin Luther, righteous King,
made the Reformation sing.
Popes and peasants, out of key
turned it into misery.
German beer and Roman crimes
made for most uncivil times
much like our own. We must confess
rights and wrongs we yet possess...
Half a millennium later on
a Baptist pastor and his son
took this noble Saxon name
and furthered the Reformer's fame.
Some revisionists deny
St. Martin Luther's role, and try
to minimize theology
in civil rights chronology.
The second Luther of my song
inspired—but did not last as long.
Social Justice notwithstanding,
King's successors need re-branding.
Politicians steal his mantle,
cloak their lies in his example;
agitators claim his glory
pushing God out of the story;
educators sing his praises
but some people's conduct raises
doubts about that dream of King—
and hope... and change... and everything.
to use the Martinizing dry-cleaning process
When chemist Henry Martin introduced a new solvent to dry clean clothes in 1949, One Hour Martinizing was born.
⛧ ♛ ✪ ✰ ♚ ♗ ☭ ♝ ⛧ ♛ ✪ ✰ ♚ ♗ ☭ ♝
Atlas shrugged his shoulders and said his last goodbye
He said I’m tired of this world and all of you know why
Before he left he let the singing caged bird out to fly
She said I begged you to release me before I die
The world once was green but forgot how to create
The sun’s early morning make the moon tides too late
He purified himself first so he could turn from his hate
Now he’s gone leaving behind the anger of our fate
She only knew how to paint the colors of her reality
It made her life easier because it was her normality
They begged her to come back but she did not feel free
She’d rather sell tortillas than cross the pretentious sea
Release the favor of your desires for I have none to offer
I exist where the light has exhausted itself from its search
We only live underneath its glow and not by its promise
And I walk alone by the door of a once beckoning church
In his hands he may choose his wraths or his mercies
A terrible sword of dust swirling without remorse
The light of a rainbow without sound or footprint
We choose either the gentle or sharp side of its source
Where men gather arguing over the virtues of sin
There is no trail to follow except the way of failure
For there is no just end without a just path for peace
And the burden he bore knows who was his savior
A dream with two sides
One of peace one of death
Carrying the bones of main street
Washed by the baptism of oppression
But somehow it doesn’t seem real
Because it didn’t happen to you
A place with no mercy
Even shame awaits permission to speak
Where prayers vanish in disbelief
They are trying to take you there
To suspend your faith in mankind
Is to find one unwilling to agree with you
The work has come undone
The pages are no longer full of wonder
To speak of history is to pretend to agree
Once again those in the middle cannot hide
And to walk on which side of the bullet
Is the choice that now confronts you
a gift to these times
With the dignity
of a survivor
And the sadness
of those bearing a loss
Inside you the hope
for a happy moment
While you carry
the message forward
to live as grace does
Not making enemies
of those who fear you
For they know
your wrath is justified
But not to your
heart which wants to love
That is who you are
if only they will let you
For a beautiful black woman that I know...
My family called me a demon
That my love is just a phase
They don't know what I'm feeling
And if they pray it'll go away
I'm a boy trapped in a woman
You're a woman trapped in a boy
When we cry every night til morning
They'll just call us paranoid
I will die someone other than myself
If I can't live the way I need to
I'm not a demon praying on someone else
I'm just a human-being like you
Someone fell in love with me on Sunday
And I fell in love with them too
We decided to get married on Monday
We're chasing dreams, old and brand new
Then one night, we opened the window
To see pitchforks and torches set afire
The pain is deep but little do they know
A few drops of rain can never put out desire
I am me. Me am I.
A black beauty am I.
The sun smiled at my body and turned my skin into its own little chocolate factory.
Several shades of a dazzling dark complexion.
A black beauty am me.
As I walk, the view of my curves captivates the attention of all those looking on.
Wow they say, **** isn't she fine.
A black beauty am I.
People often underestimate my potential but they don't know that there's more to me than meets the eye.
My intelligence allows my voice to be heard because I excel at everything I do.
A black beauty am me.
A warrior, a fighter, a lover and a friend. I am a black beauty who believes in the power of sisterhood
to uplift rather than tear down;
to encourage rather than discourage;
to dream rather than to fight.
Not only am I beautifully black but I am me and me am I...Black beauty....
Because his Christian father so esteemed
that German protester who dismissed the pope,
His name reached heights few would have ever dreamed
In our days of easy change and godless hope.
A posthumous nation drones: yes we can,
forgetting he was a Baptist preacher
a theologian - perhaps Republican...
I remember him as a scriptural teacher
Calling his country back to God. The haters
closed their hearts to the righteous prophetic word
(as today's deck-shuffling race baiters).
Many who play that card haven't heard
Those words from Amos, that thundered sentence.
speaking of more than merely civil rights.
Such lines should spark nation-wide repentance
as long as we still keep him in our sights...
MiLK it fresh from the sacred cow right HERE:
Still they march
For though the butterfly has emerged
A legacy has eternal life
And though grace cannot be earned
And though faith is about trust
Still they march
For the bridge they crossed is a promise they made
And to those who crossed before them
And until butterflies teach moths
That a flame is not the answer
There will be those drawn to the fire
Of human sacrifice
in a world where we pray to be united
within the grasp of wholehearted humanity
we sink in the dirt beneath our feet
and holding our heads up high we sing with the utmost pride
a song of which becomes a chanting notion
setting the tone for revenging entities
growing weary of the unwanted waste we toss our visions in the sea
without daring to take the promising chance
how are we to stand together
in a castle built to crumble in its past?
and yet we become the fools
lost in the fight and lost in our grieving
we walk the streets with our banners and our anger
without understanding what we are feeling
let me take you back to nineteen sixty three
when we marched on Washington
and we were lead by a King
what merely started as the seed of a dream
became the prelude to never ending history
yet with each milestone comes adversaries
and we still cry the tears of our fallen fathers
we still cry to be free
but remember my brothers and sisters
to be mindful in your actions
for blood does not wash blood away
and because the tongue can be a sword
be mindful of every single word you say
the whole world is unjust
be emotional if you must
but the time is now to be reflective
to be knowledgeable
to be respected
because the hearts of our sons and daughters
still need to be protected
the sun my still set orange
and they moon may still shine white
the day may still end at quarter to
the moment everything is night
and in each passing day are you going to become the change that is needed to win the fight?
are you going to do what's right?
(C) Maxwell 2015