I had a dream.
I was walking down a street in downtown Harlem,
The stirring strains of jazz in my ear,
When I bumped into Martin Luther King, Jr.
It was drizzling and darkness had fallen
And I said: ‘Perhaps you could help me, sir.
Tag: Politics
MASSES, Poetry by Victor O. Sawyerr
Single, lonesome, emaciated,
cachexic ribs flesh out the remains
of my marasmic body.
WILDsound Festival 