Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream was a manifestation of hope that humanity might one day get out of its own way by finding the courage to realize that love and nonviolence are not indicators of weakness but gifts of significant strength.
Just above our terror, the stars painted this story in perfect silver calligraphy. And our souls, too often abused by ignorance, covered our eyes with mercy.
This world’s anguish is no different from the love we insist on holding back.
At the edge of madness you howl diamonds and pearls.
Now come the whispers bearing bouquets of moonbeams and sunlight tremblings.
Poetry looking in the mirror sees art, and art looking in a mirror sings poetry.
This rose of pearl-coated infinity transforms the diseased slums of a broken heart into a palace made of psalms and gold.
Then came the healing time, hearts started to shine, soul felt so fine, oh what a freeing time it was.
Got just enough room to be a friend of yours. Oh I hope you got room to be a friend of mine.
Searching for a mind long lost I found it shaping colors and history near the cliffs of your heart.
Michael Jackson National African American Art Examiner Series.
The fate that condemns or saves one sooner or later often condemns or saves another.
Someone had to embrace positive beginnings before anyone could celebrate successful conclusions or continuations.
Stars wishing upon the potential of humans shine faithfully on.
At one end of the continuum known as history are first-time events that have generated notable measures of public recognition due to either a positive or negative impact...
President Obama appears to me to have elevated and implemented the artist-activist concept to the role of empowered servant-leader...
Ours is an age in which thousands are driven daily from their homelands by the unforgiving brutalities of war, terrorism, political oppression, starvation, disease, economic piracy, and the relentless suffocation of that singular breath which makes human beings individuals.
Nation-building is never a ‘done deal’ confined to history already established.
History dressed up in the glow of love’s kiss turned grief into beauty.
In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain.