MLK Jr. – 50 Years Ago His Words Began

MLK Jr.

photo courtesy Bustle


I knew this man,

well, my mother,

she taught me

to know this man.

 

i remember when he spoke,

his voice was beautiful,

a rhapsody of passionate

words to speak to everyone.

 

A scared nation,

completely aware

of what really is hell,

what was this man’s tell.

 

I remember my mother

saying to me one night,

Martin Luther King, Jr.

means love, he speaks love.

 

I remember being fascinated

by this preacher’s voice,

he kept returning,

he wouldn’t go away.

 

Despite bricks being thrown,

a society being scorned,

he basically smiled, stated,

‘I have a dream.’

 

I knew this man,

50 years ago tonight,

right around the evening

hour, we lost his voice.

 

Jesse Jackson, described it

like the clap of his hand,

the bullet was immediate,

and MLK Jr. was gone.

 

I love this beautiful man I never knew

but I believe I do, he did truly love you.

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Mother

A heartbeat.

A cradled affection,

a sense of worry is unconditional,

she will always remember that one time.

 

Oh while the years pass,

many judgments, a currency of opportunity,

an aesthetic realization that depends upon her eyes,

she will always remember that one time.

 

We willingly recall,

the time she managed our innocence

with a sweep of her hand, a tender kiss,

she will always remember that one time.

 

I’m on the bus,

her walking nearby she said later,

yours was  a rather contemplative sadness,

she will always remember that one time.

 

There live the fortunes of time,

when we can respond to favored memory,

while, growing we did become showered in smiles,

she will always remember that one time.

 

And I suppose we all will,

that one time,

when in the throes of our own lifetime,

we did look toward the skies and delight in …

 

mother.

Caring We Bridge

Known to stifle affection would task dire,
What shallow ponds could derision aspire.
We, a grateful, compassionate being
So frequently forgetful, less trying.

If empathy a gold mark, imagine
The onslaught, the minion engine
A cavalcade of pure entanglement
Would wither away in sorrow’s lament.

Oh to recognize beauty in caring,
Step inside a giving world so daring,
To conquer all ills, to remain above
Venoms that poison the essence of love.

Eternal happiness where soul may reach
The other side, a caring journey teach.

The High Road

Sometimes there is a wonder in the air,

how to achieve a certain peace,

that evident nature of discovering where

our best intentions find release.

~

While outside our circle we witness resolve,

the world awaits the next solution,

that quandary exists we cannot easily solve,

yet seek we do peace in absolution.

~

I do recall making mistakes as a young child,

well in fact most recently while mature

I did express a notion far removed and wild,

now today discover simple human nature.

~

Would that my world could recognize a truth

when in our most vulnerable state

of mind, we venture toward a reverent youth,

the sort whose follies merit too late.

~

In recent days, I lost a friend it would seem

to the haste of protecting interest

I wander in search of strength drawn seam

that fabric that states love is best.

~

We forget, we falter, we fascinate our passion

only to find we’ve toppled again.

We choose to expose the worst of a fashion

critical judgment dwarfs our gain.

~

In this world we shallow live our lives alone

a constant hope for resolve surely be shown.

I Have This Friend

Cares about people,

sacrifice,

will go that extra,

sort of realizes the game,

wants little recognition,

doesn’t really need validation,

just wants a good sense of healing.

Sound familiar right,

the sort of ‘friend’ we sometimes envy,

not looking for a lot,

except the well-being of others –

sure there are accolades,

people love to be complemented,

yet,

seems clear to me,

this friend,

only supports the beauty of others,

those healthy moments,

epiphanies are a remarkable reality,

for that soul with compassion.

~

Have a friend like that?

I believe you do, I think we all know,

when we meet that sense of humility

long before entitlement.

I think we sometimes choose to cut down a fresh pine,

rather than allow the forest to grow …

I think we don’t realize just how naked we become.

Speaking of Language

I know that when I looked at you,

a new interpretation of purpose popped into mind.

I suppose it was the color of your hair,

the manner by which you tilted your head,

how the afternoon sun might light up your eyes.

I wondered about our lives,

where we are,

how soon we can come to realize,

everyone crosses paths with that notion of

satisfying their own definition of ambience.

~

Listen to the beat as we travel together,

sweep across the tiles,

our feet in unison, our bodies melting

to the rhythm of a Latino cadence,

such that gives our soul the freedom to fly.

~

A novelty is the delight when found in sync

we desire the same,

recognize the brilliance of admiration,

knowing ours is one we share,

contains the many years of hope and desire,

that compassion that the first time I saw you,

the sunlight suggested I do love you.

When Relationships Collide

This is meant to be a good thing,

the aftermath is peace,

the initial impact, an unknown force,

bringing bodies together,

perhaps mind and soul,

hadn’t ever imagined a crossing point,

where lives could offer a solution,

a peace, again,

a nuance of learning of wondering of hoping of …

listening.

We are compelled to remain safe,

our own island,

our man-cave,

the shopping mecca that lights our heart.

We are compelled to lose focus,

on merit standing right next to you

now in this moment.

Turn to either side of you and smile,

imagine the miles

of good fortune you have just begun.