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There aren't traditions of freedom in a place like Iraq. They're going to have to come to grips with a concept that they hadn't been allowed to conceive before.

quote by Malcolm Wallop
Added by Lucian Velea
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Universal Freedom Is......

Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.

Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from bondage and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.

Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.

Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.

Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.

Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.

Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.

Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.

Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.

Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.

[...] Read more

poem by George Krokos
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I Should Be Allowed To Think

I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I saw the worst bands of my generation
Applied by magic marker to dry wall
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off
I should have a call in show
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me
I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim one occurs to me
But sadly, this can never be
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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On the Innate Drive For What is Right

As life bled, martyrdom flared its buds.
Repression, red from irritation,
Rendered chinks and cracks; but thuds of
Armament - in cowardice - accomplice of the
Dictatorial blight thro' countless years -
Wreaked its retribution:
Yet hope began to bloom a coloured carapace
Enshrining their allegiance ‘gainst the
Terror in their tears.

And on! Splits yawned - breaches in the junta:
Flesh fought fanatical minds -
Bullets welcomed into open hands
And blessed with yearnings for morality:
Chiselled man-toys of death and mutilation
Couldn't repel the might of freedom
Surging at the bright horizon.

Crepuscular rays of purpose, body,
Flooded pandemonium with
Overwhelming clarity, direction -
Burdened clouds drifting wayward as the
Light channelled out a vision,
Intensifying focus on tomorrow -
Deepen their stride
As they home in to
What is theirs,
Rightfully theirs!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Extension 33

Living at the y, extension 33,
Nothing to care or to worry.
Once I was in love with a blind man,
But my auntie told me, dont do it, its not worth it.
Living at the y, 33 years,
No one to call or to write to.
Once I was in love with a married man,
But my instincts told me, dont tell him, itll kill you.
Im sad I didnt marry the blind man,
But whats a life with three blind children?
Im glad I never told the married man,
It saved my pride and freedom.
Living at the y, in 33 rooms,
Nowhere to visit or write to.
Once I was in love, it nearly killed me,
But now I have my pride and freedom.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom.

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beating Around The Bush: A Foreign Policy

Saddam claimed to be greater
than Hitler and Nebuchadnezzar,
an ancient king of Babylon.

Saddam believed he would
build a Greater Empire than both,
beginning from modern Iraq.

This is the man Mr Bush!
Decided to let continue
to rule during his watch?

In 1979 Iraqi President Saddam Hussein
claimed he was a direct lineal descendant
of Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar II.

Saddam called himself Nebuchadnezzar III
had coins struck showing his likeness
coined with the Babylonian king on these coins.

The two likenesses proved to be! Uncannily similar!

In his memoirs George Herbert Bush
compared Saddam to Adolf Hitler!
Aspirations for Empire! Ambitions!
Ethnic Cleansing! Rule by Dictatorship!

[Chemical weapons, deportations!
Forced disappearances, Secret police!
Targeted assassinations, torture, murders!
Sounds like a resume of Adolf Hitler!
Yes Saddam was another Hitler wanta be! ]

[This is monster Mr Bush
decided to let continue
to rule during his watch? ]

Invasion and Annexation
Kuwait invaded by Iraqi!
August 2 1990!
Iraqi forces first bomb
Kuwait City terror tactics!

The Kuwaiti civilian capital
attacked by Iraqi commandos!
Deployed by helicopters boats
all airports two airbases seized!

Remember Invasion Kuwait?
Saddam’s Iraq-Kuwait War?

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bastards of Bastions

Orphaned are those,
Barely sitting in their nodded stupors.
Drifting back and forth through wishes.
With compositions of conditions,
That keep them weak.
In minds defined by a life lived,
On inner city streets.

These are bastards of bastions...
Raised to be defeated.
No one to encourage,
Made efforts to keep.

These are bastards of bastions...
Raised to be defeated.
No one to encourage,
Made efforts to keep.

So they,
Find uselessness as no crime!
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As they validate a nonsense lived.

As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As they validate a nonsense lived.

So they,
Find uselessness as no crime!
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.

Orphaned are those,
Barely sitting in their nodded stupors.
Drifting back and forth through wishes.
With compositions of conditions,
That keep them weak.
In minds defined by a life lived,
On inner city streets.

As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As they validate a nonsense lived.

Bastards of bastions!
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Am I Allowed

Am I allowed
To wish not to breathe?
Am I allowed
To skip over tomorrow?
And,
Am I allowed
Not to believe,
Who it is that speaks.
Or,
Whom everybody follows?

Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?

Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?

Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?

Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?

Am I allowed

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Iraqi Freedom

They have brought Saddam to justice and handed freedom back
Or at least that is what you tell me to the people of Iraq
But i always thought that freedom included freedom to live free of fear
Whilst every day from Iraq of more deaths through violence we do hear.

If you think Iraq is such a great place to live in you should try living there
And with the basic freedoms that you now enjoy your notes you can compare
For you do not seem enlightened on matters of liberty
On your ideas of Iraq i for one could not agree.

And your ideas of freedom seem quite laughable to me
How can one even know of basic freedom if of fear one can't live free
You should spend your next holiday in Iraq with your wife and family
Otherwise your ideas of freedom i cannot take seriously.

When you talk of Iraqi freedom talk is cheap and words are easily said
The only news we hear from Iraq is of more Iraqi dead
As a holiday destination Iraq i would not recommend
Unless of course you are suicidal and you wish your life to end.

poem by Francis Duggan
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In The Grips Of Tough Times

In the grips of tough times,
It's hard to hold back...
From gritting on teeth.
It's even more difficult to be real nice...
To someone seeing life,
Sugared and spiced.

In the grips of tough times,
Childish minds can much annoy.
And giving this attention can cause a big riff,
When an immaturity is involved in it.

In the grips of tough times,
It takes a lot to find peace of mind.
But if it means leaving petty scenes,
Don't waste a dime or the time leaving this behind.

In the grips of tough times,
It's hard to hold back...
From gritting on teeth.
It's even more difficult to be real nice...
To someone seeing life,
Sugared and spiced.

In the grips of tough times,
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
No!
In the grips of tough times,
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
No!
In the grips of tough times,
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
No!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Canto the Fourth

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

II.

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

III.

In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

IV.

But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

V.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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It's A Healing Feeling!

Once you've got your freedom...
You don't have to stand in line,
With a quick picked ticket...
Hoping you will get it.

You've got that freedom!
And you don't have to stand in line...
To get picked to get it.
To yourself you can admit...

You don't have to limp one bit,
No.
Once you've got your freedom!
You don't have to poke your lips.
No.
Once you've got your freedom!
You don't have to mope with woes,
No.
Once you've got your freedom!
You can choose to sit or go.
You can move fast or move slow.
Oh,
Once you've got that freedom.
Once you've got that freedom.

Once you've got your freedom...
You don't have to stand in line,
With a quick picked ticket...
Hoping you will get it.

It's a healing feeling!

You don't have to limp one bit,
No.
Once you've got your freedom!
You don't have to poke your lips,
No,
Once you've got your freedom!
You don't have to mope with woes,
No,
Once you've got your freedom!
You can choose to sit or go.
You can move fast or move slow.
Oh,
Once you've got that freedom.
Free from pricks that needle.

It's a healing feeling!
Oh,
Once you've got that freedom.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Freedom

Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
Such a sweet word!
But it can’t be presented as an award
even by our Lord.
Freedom is the main value of human life
but to get it you have to go through a strife.
Freedom is when you have a choice,
when you can hear your own voice.
You choose friends, books, teachers, films….
The rest is just program which you can’t change
but only manage this program to arrange.
The rest is just an illusion
with a lot of confusion.
Illusion of freedom, illusion of safety
generates violence and cruelty in our society.
But…anyway…with every right choice
you get more knowledge and life experience,
you get freedom without anyone interference.
One can feel free even in prison
being there for some reason.
But… having paper and a pen
that one can write a fantastic novel or a poem.
Flying in the dreams on ones own wings,
that ones heart a beautiful song sings.
At the same time a warden curses his slavery life,
he has no wish for any strife.
Freedom is a free will,
freedom is a free space,
when you don’t feel you are in a race.
You can’t take freedom from the shelf.
Freedom is an ability to be yourself
and act your own way.
But…let’s see what happens today!
Just have a look around!
So many crazy slogans can be found:
to legitimize prostitution,
to legalize abortions,
to allow marriage for homosexuals, ….
Are they cute or intellectuals?
The demand appeared to carry a gun.
But…freedom is when you don’t have to run
skinning the bullet late in the park
but enjoy your walk even when it’s dark,
even late at night and without a fright.
The free distribution of methadone
tells that our morality has gone.
We are not surprised to see those demands
but we are often indifferent to the slogans:
for free medical service,
for free education,

[...] Read more

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Freedom Doesnt

freedom doesnt starve it's children,
freedom doesnt sell it's people into slavery.
freedom doesnt see skin color,
doesnt always speak english.
freedom doesnt have one religion.
freedom doesnt choose sexual preference.
freedom doesnt regulate love.
freedom doesnt trade joblessness for profit.
freedom doesnt take your home.
freedom doesnt create reservations, slums,
and low rent trailer parks.
freedom doesnt ban books.
freedom doesnt invade and conquer.
freedom doesnt trade blood for oil.
freedom doesnt imprison those it cannot use.
freedom doesnt live by the lie.
freedom doesnt have different levels of justice,
depending on how much money you have.
freedom doesnt abandon it's elderly.
freedom doesnt turn away the sick.
freedom doesnt kill in the name of god.
freedom doesnt lie about the past.
damn it to hell!
this doesnt smell like freedom!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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An Ode To Freedom

Freedom, you're
Tagore's timeless poetry and everlasting lyrics.

Freedom, you're
Kazi Nazrul, the regally maned magnificent man,
rapturous in creation, oh joy.
Freedom, you're
the radiant gathering at Shahid Minar on Language Day.
Freedom, you're
the flag-draped, slogan-serenaded boisterous procession.
Freedom, you're
the farmer amidst his fields, beaming face.
Freedom, you're
the village lass's lightsome swim in mid-day pond.
Freedom, you're
the sinewy muscles on a skilled workman's sun-bronzed arms.
Freedom, you're
the glint in the eyes of a freedom fighter scouting the darkened and deserted borders.
Freedom, you're
the crisply-worded, scorching speech of a sprited scholar beneath the shade of a banyan tree.
Freedom, you're
the tumult of chats in tea-shops, public gathering and the park.
Freedom, you're
the roaring swoop of kal-boishakhi on the fiery horizon athwart.
Freedom, you're
the Meghna's heart, swelling shores in the month of Sraban.
Freedom, you're
the velvety touch, father's chivalrous prayer-mat.
Freedom, you're
the ripples on mother's unadorned sari stretched in the yard.
Freedom, you're
the hue of henna on sister's gentle hand.
Freedom, you're
a vivid placard shimmering stars gripped by a friend.

Freedom, you're
the wife's raven tresses, tempestuous in the untamed wind.
Freedom, you're:
The colorful kurta on a young boy.
The playful sunlight on a girl's supple cheeks.
Freedom, you're:
The home amidst a flower garden; the warble of koel-bird.
The twittering leaves of antediluvian banyan trees.
My notebook of poetry, to pen poems as I please.

[Translated from 'Shadinota Tumi' (Bengali) by Syed M. Islam.]

poem by Shamsur Rahman
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Land of the Free (c) 3-29-08

Land of the Free home of the brave
Land of disease home of the slave
Freedom of religion Freedom of speech
Freedom of press and freedom to breach
Freedom to steal freedom to take
Freedom to carry guns and Freedom to break
The laws of the man and the laws of the word
Freedom from peace but to still use the bird
The only home of brave and Land of the Free
The land who rules based off democracy
Freedom to starve and Freedom to be poor
Freedom to break and enter someone’s door
Freedom to lay off workers and close off jobs
Freedom to take what they want and to rob
Freedom of abortion Freedom of extortion
Freedom to own land and give everyone their portion
Freedom for action by any means necessary
But what their picture of that can really be scary
Freedom to wage war without our consent for our hours to be spent
Freedom to take our money then make us pay rent
Land of the prospering riches and of those who don’t care for the
People who live in the FREE old America

Copyright 3-29-08 ©® Corey Threet
PLEASE COMMENT!

poem by Corey Threet
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Freedom

We the people of the United States
In order to form a more perfect union
Stop pretending that you've never been bad
You're never wrong and you've never been dirty
You're such a saint, that ain't the way we see you
You want to rule us with an iron hand
You change the lyrics and become Big Brother
This ain't Russia, you ain't my Dad or Mother
(They never knew anyway)
'Cuz I never walk away from what I know is right
But I'm gonna turn my back on you
Freedom, we're gonna ring the bell
Freedom to rock, freedom to talk
Freedom, raise your fist and yell
Freedom to rock, freedom to talk
Freedom-ring
You're playing God from your ivory tower
Back off preacher, I don't care if it's Sunday
I ain't no angel, but I never felt better
We're a make-up metal degeneration
We're not as stupid as you want to make us
You better leave us man
'Cuz you sure can't take us
Nobody better tell you how to live your life
You gotta do it on your own
Freedom, we're gonna ring the bell
Freedom to rock, freedom to talk
Freedom, raise your fist and yell
Freedom to rock, freedom to talk
Freedom-ring
Cuz I never walk away from what I know is right
But I'm gonna turn my back on you
Freedom, we're gonna ring the bell
Freedom to rock, freedom to talk
Freedom, raise your fist and yell
Freedom

song performed by Alice Cooper
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Freedom Time

[Singing Chorus]
Everybody knows that they've guilty
Everybody knows that they've lied
Everybody knows that they've guilty
Resting on their conscience eating their inside
It's freedom, said it's freedom time now
It's freedom, said it's freedom time now
Time to get free, oh give us (?)
It's freedom, said it's freedom time
[First and only verse]
Yo, there's a war in the mind, over territory
For the dominion
Who will dominate the opinion
Skisms and isms, keepin' us in forms of religion
Conformin' our vision
To the world churches decision
Trapped in a section
Submitted to commiting election
Moral infection
Epedemic lies and deception
Insurrection
Of the highest possible order
Destortin' our tape recorders
From here and like under water
Beyond the borders
Fond of sin and disorder
Bound by the strategy
It's systematic deprivaty
Heavy as gravity
Head first in the cavity
Without a bottom
A faith, worse than Saddam
Once got him
Drunk of the spirits
Truth comes, we can't hear it
When you've been, programmed to fear it
I had a vision
I was fallin' in indescision
Apollin', callin' religion
Some program on television
How can, dime and the wisdom
Be recognized in the system
Of Anti-Christ, the majority rules
Intelligent fools
PhD's in illusion
Masters of massconfusion
Bacholors in past illusion
Now who you choosin'
The head, the tail
The bloodshed of male

[...] Read more

song performed by Lauryn Hill
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Freedom Isn't Free...

Who says our freedom is free? Not Me.
True, We are freer than most, but not enough,
that we should boast.
Before you say Freedom is free, stop and count the cost
of all the lives lost,
Freedom isn't free, when there's killing in our streets.
Freedom isn't free, to the Soldier that is waiting to be shipped over seas.
Freedom isn't free, with the pain, he or she is feeling inside, with
the thought of having to leave they're loved one's behind, and
it hurts so bad that it brings them to their knees.
Freedom isn't free, when your living in uncertainty.
Freedom isn't free, having to say good-bye, to a loved one that
is going off to war.Freedom isn't free, to a soldier who is on the front lines, knowing he or she, could die anytime.
Freedom isn't free when your lying in bed,
waiting and wondering, if you'll ever see your loved ones alive again.
Freedom isn't free, when a little child crys in the night,
for his or her Mommy and Daddy, and they're not there to hold them close, and comfort them, and to ease their fears, and wipe away they're tears. And all those in all the other wars, and the lives that are still being lost at this very moment.
Do you still say Freedom is free?
Freedom isn't free, when a Soldier is wounded in battle.
When news reaches, Family and friends at home,
And their told that their Soldier is wounded far beyond repair,
The loss and pain felt can not compare.
Freedom isn't free, with all those many Soldiers that wished they
had died because of all the pain in their broken up bodies.
Freedom isn't free, when your lying in bed, and you hear that dreaded
tap on your door.And you pray to God that you were only having a bad dream.
Freedom isn't free when you open the door and listen to the
bugle play, and you feel a sudden chill.
Everything goes still.
Freedom isn't free, when there is a Flag being draped
over a coffin, of a Brother, Sister, or a friend.
Freedom isn't free, when you think of all the children,
of the mothers and the wives, of Fathers, sons and husbands, whose
lives have been interrupted.
Freedom isn't free, when you think about the graveyard at the
bottom of the sea, of the unmarked graves in Arlington.
Who say's Freedom is Free? Not Me!

Written 7/23/008
BY Nora Eason

poem by Nora Eason
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My Definition Of Freedom

what a simple word.
sweet to the lips yet costs to attain. Who amongst u is really free
Do u even know what it is to be free?

What is ur definition of freedom?
Is it being loose and giving ur body to anyone withiout consensus?
Then how do u percieve feeedom?
Is it despising morals, ethics, respect and correction?

Is that ur meaning of Freedom?
Let me break it down for u.
Freedom, my Freedom, our freedom. Freedom is knowing the extents to wich God went to save ur life but still have respect for humanity.

Freedom is knowing that u don live under law but grace and still cling to this grace.
Freedom is to know that ur records of wrongs have been erased but u still strive for perfecion.
Freedom, My Freedom, Our Freedom.

My freedom is not a vote.
My freedom is not a govt designed system and terminology but My Freedom is the son of God. My Freedom is he who overcame death.

My Freedom is he who was before the beggining began. Freedom My Freedom Our Freedom is Jesus.

poem by Mbaimbai Phathutshedzo
Added by Poetry Lover
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