Liberated Muse Arts Group

The Visitor by slangston hughes

(Author Note: A poem that took me over 3 years to finally write, and even longer to get ready to write. It is dedicated to my late father Victor Franz Rodgers the 1st, as told through lens of one of my great loves, Star Trek.)


“For my father, who is coming home”


Fun fact about Slangston


Other than big butts

I love

Star Trek


I am a huge Trekkie

Oh My God. You have no idea!


And my favorite episode of all episodes regardless of series, ship name quadrant or captain is the episode of Deep Space Nine entitled The Visitor. This is the one where Commander Sisko gets knocked into a subspace dimension leaving his son Jake who witnessed the entire incident to believe that he is dead. Until at random moments throughout his life his father begins to appear than disappear, causing him to relive the loss over and over again. It isn’t until he is an old man that Jake who is a writer, discovers that if he kills himself while they are both present it will reset the loop in the time line giving them a second chance at life together.


If only it was that easy to get your father back.


We are warp signatures of our parent’s dreams

And my father is a visitor

Who has always dematerialized in and out of my existence


When I was a kid

Every time he came to visit

It was like he was back from the dead

A walking Project Genesis 

But at the end of the day when his car drove away

I was automatically transported to his funeral


My aunt screaming over the subspace of his streaking tires

“Big Victor Little Victor is crying”


As I grew older I learned to put a clocking device over my emotions

Until I could find a cold corner of my own space and explode


I remember one time my Grandfather

notching the holodecks setting beneath my eyelids

said “don’t worry, he’ll be back”

and how true his words would ring

But how can I “Live Long and Prosper”

When every mourning my mirror is a mirror universe

Facing the reflection of my dead fathers face

Except in both of these realities Spock has a beard

And is always emotionally compromised


I remember one Christmas

As I attempted to open up the hailing frequencies

Between our hurting heartbeats

He put his shields up

So I fired


Photon torpedoes from my fists

Fighting my father in my mothers bedroom

In an attempt to reunify to broken worlds

And we would become closer that than the orbits

Of Romulus and Remus  


You know they say that anger is a secondary emotion

That hides the pain of your burning star system

Behind a nebula of unprocessed damage

Ready to super nova

With the next collision of bloody knuckles into dry wall


And I inherited mine

Like the emotional transference

Of a mutilated mind meld between father and son


Unable to compensate for the sugar levels in his warp core

This diabetic dialogue as guttural as Klingon


The day my father died

His hospital room smelled like Khitomer

Have you ever had your hope massacred?


It feels like Jake

It feels like Worf

Like Wesley

Like the son of Sarek

A young James Tiberius

Watching his father’s starship explode

While still trapped inside the womb


When your hero literally has no leg left to stand on

And somebody just amputated your belief in God


Ever since my fathers death

I have been hunted by the most beautiful nightmare

Disguised as real life

Where he is alive

And I can’t believe its true

Then as soon as I am prepared to embrace Sha Ka Ree

And accept this as miracle

“Victor”y turns Kobayashi Maru


Sling shot around the sun

As suddenly the star date shifts

And I am still just a kid crying

As his father drives away

And there isn’t enough dilithium in my dreams

To bring him back from the dead


Noticing his pain

Struggling to speak a full sentence

I hand him a pen and piece of paper as universal translator


The last words I remember my father telling me


“Write something good son”


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Slangston Hughes

Slangston Hughes attempts to bridge the gap between the legacy paved through the Harlem renaissance and Black Arts Movement with the innovative but yet rebellious spirit of HipHop culture.

Slangston Hughes was the first ever Word War grand slam champion in 2008 (Baltimore) and the 2010 Baltimore Crown Awards "Poet of the Year" recipient.  a member of the Philly Pigeon Slam team that competed nationally at Southern Fried Poetry Slam in 2012, he is the artistic director and lead literary instructor for Dew More Baltimore.

Slangston’s newest album Ghetto Griot vol 1 (Tubman City Times) is an epic of truth that brings together HipHop Afro Beat and Rhythms with the revolutionary spirit of the black consciousness movement and ancestral spirit of the griot and nomo (speaking words to life) tradition. Most recently his work has been published in the Poets ‘ America anthology via the Kratz Creative Writing Center. (2014) 

Slangston is also the lead slam coach for the Baltimore City Youth Poetry Team (Dew More Baltimore) And on March 7th of 2015 published his first collaborative literary work along with author/prosaist Devlon E. Waddell as part of E.M.B.O.D.Y. (Ethereal Manifestation By Overtly Developing You). 

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