A Different Dream
I had a dream —
different ... dark ... obscure
Mine’s wasn’t like Martin Luther King,
it was different
So very dark to the core
In my dream I saw his dream
masquerading as a fantasy
There were separate, reality TV camps competing:
radical, bellicose talk of Black Lives Matter,
and virtual, cyber walk of alt-right hate chatter
There were bone chilling sounds of
nuclear voices ... uranium saber rattlers,
and automatic gunfire arterial blood splatters
And in my dream
there was an iron-copper, ruddy king’s ring
coveted by a smiling Joker, batty as a Mad Hatter,
with an itchy trigger finger
And this nightmare of a dream snoring-ly lingered
My sleeping eyes saw a lot of marching in the night,
clashes of angry protest signs and torches burning bright
Different colored children wasn’t walking hand in hand,
hugging and kissing in harmonious unity
No, they were casting stones at each other,
hurling heavy curses and jagged profanity
In my dream, that dream that Martin Luther King seen
was a fake news rerun cancelled program broadcasting
And the interrupted voice of a moderator said:
a gunshot to the head killed Martin Luther King dead
Then there was a funeral for his dream,
with a sad procession of Obama supporters crying
I saw horror of horrors ...
dark clouds ominously began to evilly congregate,
and the fair trade winds wasn’t waving the flag
Fear merchants were selling whiskey bottles of hate,
and commemorative red, white and blue gag order rags
For some it was a festive atmosphere,
a grand occasion to sample a taste of times past
Blowing lead pellet trumpet sounds
of a shotgun baby shower blast,
Birth of a Nation music was merrily playing
Vaders celebrating the death of a starcrossed king’s dream,
opened my eyes to a rude Gentile awakening —
slumber promises begets delayed praying
I had a dream —
so different ...
That of a pauper, not of a king!
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