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There is only one cure for the evils which newly acquired freedom produces, and that cure is freedom.

quote by Thomas B. Macaulay
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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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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Ain't No Cure For Love (Crush Demo)

Aint no cure for love
Aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
Aint no cure
Cupid was a blind man
He must have missed his mark
Shot an arrow in the air and hit me in the heart
I went to see Saint Valentine
Said Whats come over me?
Daddy must have missed the chapter about the birds and bees
You can be the King of diamonds
You can cash in all your gold
You could hire Johnnie Cochran
Its too late to save your soul
Dont need no shot, no ambulance
Dont need prescription drugs
There aint no cure for love
They can find the cure for the common cold
When the pushing comes to shove
There aint no cure for love
Now someone call my lawyer
Im going to see my shrink
I found myself in the jewelry store buying a diamond ring
I went to see my doctor
Said Wont you help me please?
He said Son Im sorry, its a terminal disease
Cant get no love insurance
Cupid draws his bow
I aint waving boys, Im drowning
Its a damn good way to go
Dont need no shot, no ambulance
Dont need prescription drugs
There aint no cure for love
They can find the cure for the common cold
When the pushing comes to shove
There aint no cure for love
You can be the King of Diamonds
You can cash in all your gold
You can hire Johnnie Cochran
Its too late to save your soul
Dont need no shot, no ambulance
Dont need prescription drugs
There aint no cure for love
They can find the cure for the common cold
When the pushing comes to shove
There aint no cure for love
No aspirin
No ambulance
Or Voodoo you can think up
Aint no cure for love

[...] Read more

song performed by Bon Jovi
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Aint No Cure For Love

I loved you for a long, long time
I know this love is real
It dont matter how it all went wrong
That dont change the way I feel
And I cant believe that times
Gonna heal this wound Im speaking of
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love.
Im aching for you baby
I cant pretend Im not
I need to see you naked
In your body and your thought
Ive got you like a habit
And Ill never get enough
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky
The holy books are open wide
The doctors working day and night
But theyll never ever find that cure for love
There aint no drink no drug
(ah tell them, angels)
Theres nothing pure enough to be a cure for love
I see you in the subwayand I see you on the bus
I see you lying down with me, I see you waking up
I see your hand, I see your hair
Your bracelets and your brush
And I call to you, I call to you
But I dont call soft enough
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
I walked into this empty church I had no place else to go
When the sweetest voice I ever heard, whispered to my soul
I dont need to be forgiven for loving you so much
Its written in the scriptures
Its written there in blood
I even heard the angels declare it from above
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky
The holy books are open wide
The doctors working day and night

[...] Read more

song performed by Leonard Cohen
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The Secret Whisky Cure

’Tis no tale of heroism, ’tis no tale of storm and strife,
But of ordinary boozing, and of dull domestic life—
Of the everlasting friction that most husbands must endure—
Tale of nagging and of drinking—and a secret whisky cure.
Name of Jones—perhaps you know him—small house-agent here in town—
(Friend of Smith, you know him also—likewise Robinson and Brown),
Just a hopeless little husband, whose deep sorrows were obscure,
And a bitter nagging Missis—and death seemed the only cure.

’Twas a common sordid marriage, and there’s little new to tell—
Save the pub to him was Heaven and his own home was a hell:
With the office in between them—purgatory to be sure—
And, as far as Jones could make out—well, there wasn’t any cure.

’Twas drink and nag—or nag and drink—whichever you prefer—
Till at last she couldn’t stand him any more than he could her.
Friends and relatives assisted, telling her (with motives pure)
That a legal separation was the only earthly cure.

So she went and saw a lawyer, who, in accents soft and low,
Asked her firstly if her husband had a bank account or no;
But he hadn’t and she hadn’t, they in fact were very poor,
So he bowed her out suggesting she should try some liquor cure.

She saw a drink cure advertised in the Sydney Bulletin—
Cure for brandy, cure for whisky, cure for rum and beer and gin,
And it could be given secret, it was tasteless, swift and sure—
So she purchased half a gallon of that Secret Whisky Cure.

And she put some in his coffee, smiling sweetly all the while,
And he started for the office rather puzzled by the smile—
Smile or frown he’d have a whisky, and you’ll say he was a boor—
But perhaps his wife had given him an overdose of Cure.

And he met a friend he hadn’t seen for seven years or more—
It was just upon the threshold of a private bar-room door—
And they coalised and entered straight away, you may be sure—
But of course they hadn’t reckoned with a Secret Whisky Cure.

Jones, he drank, turned pale, and, gasping, hurried out the back way quick,
Where, to his old chum’s amazement, he was violently sick;
Then they interviewed the landlord, but he swore the drink was pure—
It was only the beginning of the Secret Whisky Cure.

For Jones couldn’t stand the smell of even special whisky blends,
And shunned bar-rooms to the sorrow of his trusty drinking friends:
And they wondered, too, what evil genius had chanced to lure
Him from paths of booze and friendship—never dreaming of a Cure.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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This Newly Loving Game

I had some time this morning that clarified my mind
The thoughts that drifted past me were of a quiet and gentle kind
I'm not saying I'm in love with you, I'm just saying that I find
That thoughts keep drifting past me of a quiet and gentle kind.

The feelings that I'm having are not easy to explain
It’s been some time since I've been in this newly loving game
It's all slow moving on now and I really can't explain
The rules that we should follow in this newly loving game.

I took the time this afternoon to write my thinking down
And all the time I wondered why and let my mind go round
Around and around the time we've spent and what I feel I've found
It took some time, I wondered why and said my thoughts aloud.

Then I ripped up the paper and I threw it on the floor
The words that I had written were like trying to keep a score
I'd tried to use my reasonings as I had done before
And the marks upon that paper had no meaning anymore.

The way that all this seems to me is not easy to explain
It’s been some time since I've been in this newly loving game
It's all slow moving on now and I really can't explain
The rules that we should follow in this newly loving game.

I spent some time this evening thinkin' of just who I am
What I like about me and what is it that I can
Offer up to someone who, when all this thing began,
Was not needing of lover nor even of a man.

Yes, we do have common interests and we can talk for hours
We share a love of poets and a questioning of power
We hold each other closely even though we're wondering how
This thing that we are making could be completely ours.

The feelings that I have for you are not easy to explain
It’s been some time since I've been in this newly loving game
It's all slow moving on now and I really can't explain
The rules that we should follow in this newly loving game.

There is a lack of time for us and some hurt within our hearts
And that got me on to thinking that our paths are really hard.
The time I took to think today was 'bout us being apart
And the way we are beginning yet not knowing how to start.

The feelings that I have now are not easy to explain
It’s been some time since I've been in this newly loving game
It's all slow moving on now and I really can't explain
The rules that we should follow in this newly loving game.

poem by David Keig
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The Cure Of Calumette

Dere's no voyageur on de reever never
run hees canoe d'ecorce
T'roo de roar an' de rush of de rapide, w'ere it
jump lak a beeg w'ite horse,
Dere's no hunter man on de prairie, never
wear w'at you call racquette
Can beat leetle Fader O'Hara, de Curé of
Calumette.

Hees fader is full-blooded Irish, an' hees moder
is pure Canayenne,
Not offen dat stock go tegedder, but she's
fine combination ma frien'
For de Irish he's full of de devil, an' de French
dey got savoir faire,
Dat's mak'it de very good balance an' tak'
you mos' ev'ry w' ere.

But dere' wan t'ing de Curé wont stan' it;
mak' fun of de Irlandais
An' of course de French we say not'ing,
'cos de parish she's all Canayen,
Den you see on account of de moder, he can't
spik hese'f very moche,
So de ole joke she's all out of fashion, an' wan
of dem t'ing we don't touch.

Wall! wan of dat kin' is de Curé, but w'en he
be comin' our place
De peop' on de parish all w'isper, 'How
young he was look on hees face;
Too bad if de wedder she keel heem de firse
tam he got leetle wet,
An' de Bishop might sen' beeger Curé, for it's
purty tough place, Calumette!'

Ha! ha! how I wish I was dere, me, w'en he
go on de mission call
On de shaintee camp way up de reever, drivin'
hees own cariole,
An' he meet blagger' feller been drinkin', jus'
enough mak' heem ack lak fou,
Joe Vadeboncoeur, dey was call heem, an' he's
purty beeg feller too!

Mebbe Joe he don't know it's de Curé, so he's
hollerin', 'Get out de way,
If you don't geev me whole of de roadside,
sapree! you go off on de sleigh.'
But de Curé he never say not'ing, jus' poule

[...] Read more

poem by William Henry Drummond
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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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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 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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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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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 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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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
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Calling Dr. Love

You need my love baby, oh so bad
You're not the only one i've ever had
And if i say i wanna set you free
Don't you know you'll be in misery
They call me (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
And even though i'm full of sin
In the end you'll let me in
You'll let me through, there's nothin' you can do
You need my lovin', don't you know it's true
So if you please get on your knees
There are no bills, there are no fees
Baby, i know what your problem is
The first step of the cure is a kiss
So call me (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I am your doctor of love (calling dr. love), ha
They call me (dr. love), they call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
Ooh, they call me (dr. love)
I am the doctor of love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
Ooh, they call me (dr. love)
I am your doctor of love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinking of (calling dr. love), yeah
Yeah, they call me (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
Love, love, love, (dr. love)
Love, love, love, love, (calling dr. love) love dr. love
(calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' (dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
They call me dr. love (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure

song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.

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
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, thron'd 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
Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she rob'd, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increas'd.

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 vanish'd 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 repeopl'd were the solitary shore.

V.
The beings of the mind are not of clay;
Essentially immortal, they create
And multiply in us a brighter ray
And more belov'd existence: that which Fate
Prohibits to dull life, in this our state

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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