Chapter Ninety-Two

INDEPENDENCE DAY
[ a poem ]


     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 *


Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial Fund      Human Rights Web


DEDICATED TO:  Martin Luther King III, who continues to fight for the mutually shared dream of Mohandas K. Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr. and our planetary brothers and sisters of conscience.  Also dedicated to filmmaker and author Michael Moore and to comedian and author Al Franken:  Fox News has finally managed to clearly underscore what most thinking Americans have long suspected.  It would appear that a certain network of "stupid white" (and one or two token not quite white) partisan puppets for a new world disorder of neo-conservative globalization elitism of, by and for the wealthy at the planetary expense of everyone and everything else, possesses no clear understanding of  Human Rights, patriotism, the First Amendment, the meaning of the phrase “fair and balanced” or why Mohandas K. Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. willingly allowed their lives to remain in harm’s way.


*FootNote:  Inspired by Canadian (recently American citizen) journalist Peter Jennings, who amidst many modern media pundits and commentators of shallow substance and often dubious credentials, stands apart as an individual of perspective, conscience, dignity and integrity.



   




greater love has no one than this,
than to lay down one’s life for his friends

this is my command, that you love one another

        -- Jeshua of Nazareth
                     founder of Human and Civil Rights


           


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Copyright © August 20th, 2003 by Richard Aberdeen.

       No part of this material may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher and signed by the author. Inquiries: Freedom Tracks Records or requested via eMail.  Essays entitled Revolution and Revolution ~ Side B are open copyright and may be reproduced and distributed as desired.