#martinlutherking
The words of the King, said long ago and towards a vision of he who no longer breathes,
Of a future where different colored children are intertwined and men sees but not seethes,
Spoken by a man of dark skin who rose to be the king of freedom and equality and love,
Spoken in front of tall white buildings and spoken below a flying white dove.
He said, “I have a dream,” and those four words became a legend told to the next century
He raised his hands and shouted to the sky above, “Freedom and liberty!”
Even as decades went by those words were repeated and repeated, darkness into dawn,
And when children ask for the source, men say, “The Luther King is his name” to the fawns.
Yet of new times, southern states are still with loaded shotguns, ebonic skin shun red in the sun
Voices heard, yet brown children still fall seperated and their killers still hold loaded guns
Their mother(less)s hold them—Pietà—and shout to the sky above, “Freedom and liberty!”
And marches with signs saying “Black Lives Matter” carry the wake and funeral for equality.
Reaper comes to take the child, yet in death's place is the plants of a possible future of hope
Where society rebuilds and remakes and rehashes and restores, for light we wish to *****
“Is justice and righteousness rolling down?” "Is it like a mighty river who saves?”
We the people ask, and the King wonders too—the King, your king, who watches from his grave.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
While the mother crow cries
over the dead bodies
of her children
the doves fly away
as if the murdering of crows
is not any kind of crime
as the doves
see evil
hear evil
protect evil
The crows heart
a constant target
of the doves violence
Who's next?
Whose name is destined for hashtags and ******
how many lives
will it take
before the hate
and fear
in the doves heart
bleeds out
The deadline of
the life of a crow
is drawn by the jeweled crown
of loathing the dove wears
on its head
and the fear inside
the loaded gun
of the doves eye
and the hate beating
wildly beneath its wings
and blindly in its heart
Hope is a heavy burden
under the pounding
blood red sky
Where the doves
practice ******
more often than
they protect the peace
As the oath has changed
to protect and serve
their own kind
and lady justice
has been blinded
by a white wash
of white lies
And the murdering of crows
goes on...
and on...
and on...
While the living
can wait their turn
to be murdered
and crucified
and martyred
on the next hashtag
while serving their time
from inside the freedom
they have behind the bars
of the cage of poverty
and there is always
more room for another
and another
and another
inside the skin
of the prison cell life
they were born in
The crow is suspected guilty
until pronounced dead
and its innocence
is nothing the doves
cannot beat out of it
even after it is already dead
as the color
of the doves guilt
is judged to be
more pure than
a corpse with
a crows dead heart
no matter the weight
of its innocence
and the murdering of crows
goes on...
and on...
and on...
While the feathers
of the doves wing
spread out sharp like knives
with a seemingly
bottomless hunger
for the heart of the crows
and we lower the body
of another martyr
into the earth
how much longer
will we allow
the murders of crows
to walk free
as if the murdering of crows
is not a crime
the doves can bury
the body of a crow
after crow
(one after another and another)
but never their songs
never their names
never their hearts
and the dead will speak
for the living
as long as the living
never forget the dead
one day the crows
are going to rise up
over the black asphalt
city skyline
singing into the
blood red sky
hearts crowned
with fire and hope
flying high and free
flying over
the mountain tops
singing of the
promised land
singing for the dead
but not forgotten
singing words
of flame
and poetry
singing for
freedom
and unity
carrying the weight of hope
and hope is a heavy burden
we all must carry into tomorrow
and tomorrow
or tomorrow will never
be better than today
we must always lift our dreams
with love and hope
and one day may we find
our way over the mountain top
and into the land of promise
where birds of every feather
are free to fly in a sky
without violence
and fear
and hate
where tomorrow is a river
flowing into a better today
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
We marched to the words of "We Shall Overcome"
courting justice to walk at our side,
seared into memory with the heat of sun
brothers and sisters, arms linked one to one
beneath that day star's unblinking eye,
we marched to the words, "We Shall Overcome."
We swore an oath to forego the gun,
to carry only freedom's cry
beneath the impassive afternoon sun,
through bludgeon and cudgel one by one,
each truncheon summoning others to rise,
to join in the words "We Shall Overcome."
As we embraced, the marching done,
a crosshairs trained a sniper’s eye
to wrench malice from the indifferent sun
to hew a path in blood and bone,
to rend flesh
and a rasping
fatal sigh . . .
in the fading caress of the afternoon sun.
Beneath the eternal arc of the sun,
again we will muster side by side,
a sanctified chorus, whose song will be sung,
let our marching echo...
"We Shall Overcome.”
Copyright © 2018 Gary Brocks
Conceived after visiting the LORRAINE HOTEL (Memphis, Tennessee), the site of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Thursday, 4 April 1968.
In 1991 the NATIONAL CIVIL RIGHTS MUSEUM at the LORRAINE HOTEL was opened to the public.
"We Shall Overcome”, an anthem, title and refrain, of the American Civil Rights Movement of the mid 20th century.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
♛ ♛ ♛
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.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 9:05 PM UTC