We thought is was bad in the sixties and seventies. How in name of all that's holy did we end up here? Read the history of the marches in the north. The hate then and the hate now. Oh God/dess. So many years and so little change.
MOURN MY PEOPLE
Vic Mcteer
Mourn my people,
mourn, there is no hope.
Mourn black
brothers, Armageddon is sure.
Mourn Coretta King,
your lament is their shame,
Mourn black boy;
with his life went yours.
There is no hope.
Mourn black mother,
a son we've lost tonight,
Mourn peaceful man,
with his love went yours.
Mourn militant, your
fears are justified.
There is no hope.
Mourn black people.
His words of love are gone.
His hopes vanished.
There is no hope.
Mourn rioter, they
have proven you right.
Mourn gleeful white.
You laugh at your own funeral.
Mourn the death of
Martin Luther King
He lived and taught
in love and died in life consuming hate.
Who will follow?
Mourn white man.
There is no hope.
Retribution is here.
There is no hope.
There is no hope.
From Drum Major for
a Dream: Poetic tributes to Martin Luther King, Jr. Reprinted in 2002
by the Writer's workshop. In India. I repeat this volume was
originally printed and reprinted not in the US but in India. Perhaps
because it was the home of Gandhi. Truly ironic. Originally printed
in 1976. And look where we are now.
