By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.
A tragic irony
that is neither
so tragic
nor ironic...
at SUNY-Stonybrook,
they rolled out
a plush
red carpet
to welcome you
with pomp;
you would later,
with disdain,
compose an off-beat
song in return:
it was typical of you,
all right,
the finicky waif...
yes,
for treating you
like the prince
you would shortly
turn out
not to deserve,
you composed
an off-beat and
off-color song
of morbid
ungratefulness,
cursing your kindly
hosts for making you
a sacred cow,
burning bridges
for those to come
after you -
incurable ingrate
that you were,
you wouldn't spare
the ugly urge of
paying back a
pinch of salt
with a bag of
chilis...
and so
like a blind pig,
you trampled
and spattered
the blood of
Malcolm and
King over
puddles of
your pees -
too full of
yourself and
your own
self-importance,
you refused
to pay homage
to those who had
come and gone
before you,
who had dearly
paved and paid
your passage
with their blood -
ran round-robin
rings around
the names
and memories
of those
on whose
broad backs
you mounted
the coll
and blasted
your horn -
10/7/13