King's Vociferate

You stir sedition,
oh man of war,
your weapons,
a war of words.

But love emanates
from those words
in a soft pink mist
of profundity.

We curse the waste
of ebony minds,
mocha desires,
vanilla latte dreams.

We've slowly become
bland old souls,
lakcing hope,
empty, insipid beings.

Smelling the burnt
odor of Perdition,
we simply try
your rousing thoughts.

Feeling a feeble breath
of discontent,
we dust off
our awkwardness.

In a blurry moment
of nostalgia
we meditate on long-
forgotten resistance.

A concentrated
acerbic taste
of bitterness
sours this moment.

Then disappears
in a delicious
hot healing.
"We shall overcome."

You've found that
protracted need
that touches our ancestors,
that embraces our posterity,

Perpetuating that need
for a peaceful sedition.
Inept, though we feel,
we're suddenly inspired.

Love, Jody