(soon to be released in the book series: On My Post: Recollections of a Social Media Maverick)
‘And he said , Hear now my words: If there be a prophet among you, I the LORD will make myself known unto him in a vision, and will speak unto him in a dream.’ – Numbers 12:6
‘And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy , your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions…’ – Joel 2:28 (as referenced to by Peter in Acts 2:17)
Post Martin Depression
Martin Luther King
Marched for the future of dreams
Marred by newer themes.
Has the American dream for C.R.E.A.M. been superimposed upon that of Dr. King’s? In this day and age, unity amongst the races is much easier to see, but is it truly the vision of he who gave his life for the Civil Rights movement?
For the sake of cash flow, the once great divide of race has been replaced by greater dividends. Nowadays, it’s not uncommon to see White and Black hands held together – padded by green alliances of greed which exploit the worst of one culture’s behaviors.
While the partnerships that perpetuate these images have brought associations of wealth and notoriety to a once unsung Black culture; they also confine it and bias the knowledge of other cultures to its negative stereotypes. Depicting thugs, pimps and gold diggin’ women is a lucrative business in the world of entertainment – but it comes with a price tag that’s far heavier than any medallion that Jacob the Jeweler could create. The irony of it all is that to truly keep the dream alive – we must first die to the flesh, then wake up and take notice of the nightmare which surrounds us.
A nightmare that extends beyond some fictitious Elm St. and has bled into the very avenues that were named after Dr. King himself. Growing up in Maryland, I remember there being a Martin Luther King, Jr. highway that went through some rough areas in DC. Hearing the news broadcast Dr. King’s name in association with a street where some heinous Black on Black crime took place was more disturbing than anything Freddy Krueger could have ever dreamed up.
Likewise, upon a recent trip to Chicago to visit a friend of mine, I was reminded of what almost seems like an intentional irony of what happens when an urban street marked by liquor stores on every other corner is “distinguished” by being name after King. As I was driving through, I couldn’t help but glance around at my belongings in the car to be sure that once I parked, I didn’t leave anything in plain view that might send an open invitation for my car to be broken into. As I laughed to shake off my paranoid daydream, I couldn’t help but be saddened by the expectation that set in the instant I saw the name “MLK, Jr.” on the street sign.
Elm St. Nightmares and Dreamscapes
Not even Luther
King’s Dream can escape Stephen-
Krueger themed dreamscapes.
*
In His Wildest Dream
a.k.a.
Street Dream
Did King’s wildest dreams
Foresee him being the theme
Of the wildest streets?
‘Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions…’ – Job 7:14
*
MLK Drive
a.k.a.
Motivated Avenues
I dream of the day
When we drive out the violence
Which paves our plagued streets.
Just as quickly as I dreamed up the unclear and present danger of the urban environment I was in, complacency has lulled me to sleepwalk in my suburban neighborhood. How often do I find myself feeling safe despite how my neighborhood watch may actually be watching the “hood” that moved in over six years ago? Have I conveniently forgotten having the cops called on me the first time I washed my car in my own driveway for playing my music too loud? What was the motivation of the unseen and to this day unknown plaintiff who chose to get the police involved instead of personally asking me to turn down my music?
A Good KKKnight Lullaby?
How long have we been
Sleeping on King’s dream tucKed in
With tucKed away sheets?
These are the ever present reminders that although we have been given the dream and vision of a modern day prophet – there is still much to be desired… and much to be deferred.
Requiem for a Dream Deferred
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Proctored a spark in the future esteem of freedom pursuers.
Freed from subduers, the dream’s being
neutered by newer blockades.
Today’s obstacles make me wonder if it was worth it –
For the rights of our people mean nothing if we perverse it…
Sold cheap in street circuits which don’t preserve it –
they’re choked by looser noose knots and chains.
No longer behind the scenes,
Black folks get light lime and heavy cream
While White lies kindly behind and beneath –
from days of slavery, this is an incredible feat!
Blacks and Whites now intermingle to enrich pay scales –
But at what price do we continue to mix the grayscale…
Jacob and Kanye chains may sell –
but such jewels evoke an ineffable breach.
It’s ironic how King’s envisioned views of how we’d end up
Have turned a platonic coexistence into a new dilemma.
His prescription’s been delivered at toxic levels.
While common economy tells me
we had to fight for Civil Rights –
What part of equality comes at such a pivotal price?…
The part where our autonomy gets
ritually slighted by accosting with devils.
I wonder if the tone of this noble
fella would’ve turned hurtful
If he’d known vanilla ice would
melt into his own fraternal circle –
Wite-out stains Alpha’s Jewels eternal
within its prestigious walls!
Our fraternities formed out of a lack of resources
To become a safe haven for Black recourses…
So how does a shield against anti-Black
forces now consort with such an egregious flaw?!!
But I’m not on some Black Panther revolt.
Even Malcolm X left that answer revoked.
I know that amongst God’s grander yokes,
there can be no discrimination.
Jesus died to end such deeds of separation.
So, I’ve got no reason to deny His desegregation…
But I can’t help my deep-seeded hesitation –
rooted in the 60’s vivid scenes of civic demonstrations.
Forty years of an ongoing march –
Yet even for these tears, I know I’ve not done my part.
In 2000, voting wasn’t once embarked,
but I complained on a regular basis.
I allowed injustices in slack-jawed offices
To keep me disgusted in the acts of Congress’…
Forget Black caucuses – my causes were
marauded by secular hatred.
As disdain hastily drove what I was often
ignited and infused with,
I wasted the souls laid in coffins
of righteous movements.
Dr. King’s life wasn’t designed for amusement –
yet we take it lightly everyday.
If he could’ve seen our wasteful disintegration,
Would he have fought so hard for racial integration
Just to see us become so faithful to assimilation –
as we sacrifice Black anthems for the ways
unsightly gray medleys pay?
Just because we can achieve the impossible,
Doesn’t mean we’re no longer responsible.
We should cultivate the best traits possible
before the world merges with our worst feats first.
But instead, we let vultures borrow the product
Of our culture’s most sorrowful conduct…
Giving praise to the hollow constructs that
media circuses seek first.
In the wake of King’s dream –
this is horrible nonsense.
We can’t keep exploiting ourselves without moral conscience.
The oral oracle’s been forgotten –
we can’t recall what our struggles were all about.
Too busy taking care of self,
We lie with snakes in snares of wealth…
Trading a visionary’s travails for a dream of
greed that reeks of troubled clout.
What we need now is sleep-deprivation.
There’s a better dream out that needs representation.
If the rest of us would just awaken,
we could grasp Martin King’s deep words.
But until we can remain true to our own worth
By resisting the urge to dilute our souls dispersed…
Maybe we ought to totally disown it
to preserve a martyr’s dream deferred.
‘Likewise also these dreamers defile the flesh, reject authority, and speak evil of dignitaries… But these speak evil of whatever they do not know; and whatever they know naturally, like brute beasts, in these things they corrupt themselves. Woe to them! For they have gone in the way of Cain, have run greedily in the error of Balaam for profit, and perished in the rebellion of Korah. These are spots in your love feasts, while they feast with you without fear, serving only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried about by the winds; late autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, pulled up by the roots; raging waves of the sea, foaming up their own shame; wandering stars for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.’
– Jude 1:8; 10-13 NKJV
