MLK Had a Dream - Not a Magic Spell

Each time an act of racial injustice or controversy erupts in America, a certain type of people will look at the chaos and fury of the protests and claim, "Dr. King would not approve. They should be more like Dr. King."

We often emptily invoke MLK's name in an effort to suggest racism isn't as big a deal as people think. We make him to be the great crusader who quashed racism, that the "I Have a Dream" speech was the magic spell that cured bigotry forever. We tell ourselves these things not out of reverence for Dr. King, but so we don't have to face the fact that racism and oppression are still very real and powerful monsters. We tell ourselves racism in modern America is an invention of the liberal media, or some other such boogeyman, designed to divide us. 

So, when protests turn violent, no matter who's at fault, we use a cliche we've invented that goes: "be like Martin Luther King!" 

Yet we have no idea what we mean by that. If it simply means, "be more peaceful and you'll cure racism," our ignorance is blatant as we forget that King, a peaceful activist himself, met his end in an act of racial violence - proving racism did not end at "Free at last, free at last..."

Poem: "Rebel Scum"

I searched the bars for my friend Billy Yank -

Maggie had been missing for days, and he might

know where to find her if he could only think.

I averted my gaze from the dancers and when 

I saw my blue bellied friend, I went to beg him

for answers. But to my horror, before Billy could

even belch, I saw beside him Jefferson Davis 

himself. 

"Billy Yank, you're in Union blue, in the sight 

of unbelievers! Chumming with a traitor in full 

public view, buying bourbon for the grayest of

Gray deceivers!" 

I dragged Billy to the stall, Jeff Davis not 

seeming to notice me at all; Billy threw up 

on my shoes and I reminded him again of

his sin, and that he wore the Union blue.  

"Captain, calm your fuse" Billy replied, "Old Jeff 

and I are both patrons here. We're just talking 

Predestination; who am I to refuse such sincere 

conversation?"

"He's Rebel scum," I insisted,

"his ears are deaf and dumb to reason -

he's Mississippi's son, unrepentant of his

treason."

"We're both Rebels too, you and me,"

Billy slurred; "we were born in Alabama

amongst that damnable Rebel herd. Our fathers

owned the men we died to set free. The 

only difference is," Billy wiped his bleeding 

mouth, and fell to the floor, "when Cain broke

loose in the South, we were gambling in

Baltimore."

I was indignant; I had no time for rebuke, 

especially by a man I'd once defended, 

now covered in fluid and puke.

"Either you know where Maggie's gone,

or you don't," I said real flat. "I've got to find

her fast." Billy Yank shook his head before 

he breathed his last, and that was that.

At HQ I shook off what Billy said. 

I'm no Rebel, I was born no such

thing; I would much rather be dead and 

swallowed by muck and mud, would

much rather hang, than admit there's 

treason in my blood.

I'll prove it any day  

I'll submit to 23 & Me

and provide my DNA, I told myself;

Then everyone would see I'm more

pure a patriot than Abraham Lincoln himself.

Poem: "True Crime"

"He was a slob. Did you ever see him eat? Starving children could fill their bellies with the food that ended up on his beard and his clothes. Dogs would gather to watch him eat. I've never understood gluttony. But I hate it. I hated that about you. He enjoyed disgusting people - being disgusting, the thrill of offending people and making them uncomfortable. He was despicable. He will not be missed."

-The Razor's Edge (1985)

Truth be told, you were despicable, Uncle Jack

Yet you cannot be replaced

You'll never come home, you'll never come back

The earth will soon forget

the shadows in your face.

I'll not pretend you were cavalier

I'll not pretend you were great

Your life was riddled with chances blown,

you left disgust in your wake

But your life was not your own,

it was not yours to take.

I wish I'd been there with you

in the empty Hotel Barringer

I could have listened to your sordid blues

and convinced you to drop your derringer

You were Jack the Terrible

You were no doubt insane

But you cannot be replaced

Your life was precious all the same.

When your friends drifted away,

ran away,

friends, the only thing a broken man has,

You said life was like prison, like Alcatraz

San Quentin, the Green Mile -

you hated to wake each day

To be born, you said, was to break into jail

To be born, you said, was to sail to Guantanamo Bay

But I insist you should have stayed

We were both decked in orange, locked behind bars

True crime is all the rage these days

You and me, alone and loathsome,

we could have been documentary stars.