Voices of Variegation Pt4

No Accident

(The Miseducation of America)

It’s no accident, that

You learned about Helen Keller
instead of W.E.B. DuBois, and the Watts and L.A. Riots, but not those in Tulsa or Wilmington; or, that

You learned that George Washington’s dentures were made from wood, rather than the teeth of slaves; or, that

You learned about the New Deal and black ghettos, but never about redlining and Black Wall Street.

It’s no accident, that

You heard and learned about “black on black crime,” but white criminals have never been lumped together and discussed in such terms as their race, creed, color, or gender identity; or, that

You learned about “states rights” as the cause of the Civil War, fought to preserve the Union, but not that slavery was mentioned 80 times in the articles of secession.

It’s no accident, that

Privilege is having history rewritten
so that you don’t have to acknowledge uncomfortable facts. Racism is perpetuated by people who refuse to learn or acknowledge all of these truths and realities. But, there is nothing great about hate. On rare occasions, poetic justice is just the karma due to soul-writers and truthsayers who carry their truth in their heart, wielding words as their only weapons and calling it art; though, it’s a hard road to follow.

2021 MDSHall

The Word of Bird

for Charlie Parker

as he flew, Bird blew
Trying to play clean, looking
For the pretty notes.

In the voice of the
Coolest breeze, the Apostle
Of Hipness hovers

Like a satellite
In orbit of mother earth
& the universe.


Eternity By Infinity [the final cut]

in hopes that we would go

the depth over the distance, growing
deeper than the roots of a tree

i took for granted that we would be
as one
for eternity times infinity; yet,

love is a feeling

memorized, destined to

never forgotten
even if & when it dies
as it does sometimes.

& though yesterday is a memory, your soul
still gleams with the same brightness as the sun.

you were the total conjugation

of my entire language
& the music playing

in tune to moments
we’ve unhappily
lost in translation.

& our embrace,

a universe within itself
to call home, alive

archived in my mind
–that always refuses to go
quietly, already too late for a graceful exit.


Curators of the Lost Art

for Amiri Baraka & Albert Einstein

We are curators
Of the lost art of thought, forced
Into existence
By revelations of mind
& the imagination.