Last night, a dream came;
flying though bright speculations
and the Mundus Novus dawning.
Mumbled voices and profound words,
all mistaken for Universal Truth.
Fire Hoses and the sharp teeth of dogs;
Burn down the Negro.
Mississippi child home,
sick.
Twenty-second day of November- 1963.
The Motorcade,
Bleeding,
Unconscious.
Parkland Memorial Hospital (Dallas, TX) -
Burn down the Nation,
Fire hoses- National Guard Troops.
'From Dallas, Texas, the flash, apparently official.'
We shall stay as long as the struggle,
Flashing semaphore distress
Marching to the Mountain Top
over the sinking ship- America.
And all the while...
Like in Selma,
Like in Washington,
Like in Memphis-
Dr. King marches on.
Fire hoses wash the blood from the streets
Priests in flack jackets,
Preach to dead civil rights workers.
To ANY-
and ALL who would ask-
'You can be filled with bitterness,
and with hatred, and a desire for revenge.'
Like in Berkley,
Like in Ohio,
Like in the chants of Thanksgiving.
Hear my antithesis;
Anti-war,
Anti-media,
Anti-mother,
Anti-father.
He, who is not busy being born,
is busy dying.
April 4,1968-
From every star in the Universe,
From every blade of grass,
Like the horror that comes in three-
SIRHAN
SIRHAN
And all the while in California- California.
The sign of White-hooded madmen
spell out a message of H A T E.
K- JFK
K- MLK
K- RFK
Let this Black
