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In Mitch we see what Malcolm urged,
“Any means necessary,”
But in some things their paths diverged,
Though both were mercenary.
For Malcolm played all kinds of con,
Sold dope and faulty thinking,
Burgled, when bathroom lights weren’t on,
Through darkened alleys slinking.
Mitch mastered well the con man’s art,
Sold deals and mental whoring,
And did it all without a heart,
In public triumphs scoring.
However Malcolm unlike Mitch
Changed course when he was wrong
And recognized his error, bitch,
And in this faith stood strong:
He never lost humanity,
Nor ever closed his eyes
When he had been unsavory—
But Mitch keeps his disguise.
See, Mitch keeps steadfast; unlike Malcolm
His purpose never changes—
He puts his white face on with talcum,
Be damned whom he estranges.
Mitch failed to change, and failed to grow,
A stunted vandal he,
And, human kindness to forgo
Grew in ignominy.
But let the devils be forgot
And men of valor’s tales be taught:
When tribulations do me vex
I’d rather think on Malcolm X.
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