Remembering Brother Martin
Out came the national guard
Guns of war and dogs of rage
The riot squads were restless
They sensed a turn of history’s page
We had a dream that day
The freedom bell was ringing
In the shadow of Abraham’s bosom
Angels and prophets were heard singing
From a land of tobacco and cotton
Of human bondage not soon forgotten
Came sanity’s voice of true reason
Running from the devil’s daughter
We were brought up to the mountain
And we walked upon the water
Out of the mouths of babes of trained oration
Often comes practiced elocution of rhetorical score
Faith without hope and style without substance
Theories of tired solution having no valid door
From bloody civil war and a legacy of revolution
Enforcing perilous direction of an avaricious nation
Remembering days of infamy and oppressive institution
The torch has now been passed to a new generation. . .
There had been many fine speakers that day
Songs of tribulation and hope and tears of rage
As last in the crowded afternoon presentation
He finally stepped up to the national stage
From a prepared text carefully written down
He defined our frustration, pouring out his soul
The dramatic prepared allegory and metaphor alone
Would have satisfied any accomplished orator’s goal
But as an awed hush swept across the national tv news
Something deep within his heart ignited a righteous fuse
Abandoning the text he looked out on the tired and restless crowd
And truth began spilling out, flowing freely, ringing loud
As Isaiah and Amos stood along side addressing a contradicting nation
A voice of many waters lifted him up to deliver the matchless oration
And now ‘till justice rolls on down like a great and mighty stream
We will never be satisfied, for on that day we shared his dream
No one who heard his magnificent eloquence most superior
Could ever look him in the eye and insinuate he was inferior
For above all pretenders to the American throne of oracle grace
None ever spoke like this man and none will likely take his place
Now we know those among us thought least and most despised
Will one day be held first, free at last and duly recognized
And those who sit at the head of oppression’s plantation feast
Will be brought down low, taking their place among the very least
And now the public lectern is vacant, the microphone is turned off
Hypocrites trumpet self-righteous proclamation while intellectuals scoff
Our narcissistic national agenda is a manifesto of international disgrace
We the people have no vision, no one stands in our beloved brother’s place
As our flag-draped national coffin rolls down tyranny’s brutal track
Our lady of the harbor slowly follows dressed in weeping widow’s black
And though we’ve lost our greatest son, though the battle’s far from won
Deep in our heart some still believe that someday we shall overcome
American sheep have gone astray, through the wide gate, Times
Square/Broadway
Yesterday’s harvest rots in leaking jars of clay engulfed in putrid mold of
our decay
Judas sits in the capitol tower while Lazarus weeps by the gate
Memories from a day in Lincoln’s shadow herald our inevitable fate
Swallowing insipid shallow sound bite of the corporation sewer
Propagated by a patronizing media embedded in sophistic manure
We are led on down the crooked path towards national suicide slaughter
Reminded of what might have been, what did and did not matter
We had a dream that day
The freedom bell was ringing
In the shadow of Abraham’s bosom
Angels and prophets were heard singing
From a land of tobacco and cotton
Of human bondage not soon forgotten
Came sanity’s voice of true reason
Running from the devil’s daughter
We were brought up to the mountain
And we walked upon the water
And now out comes the national guard
Guns of war and dogs of rage
The riot squads are restless
They sense a turn of history’s page
contact author: www.FreedomTracks.com
