Freedom Is
to be free,
is between,
the metal and ink,
the multitude and the one,
where match has found powder,
where ideas have found guns.
Between foe and friend,
the rise and descend,
a new beginning,
born from violent end.
Between the dreams of the young,
the impatience of old,
where the heart burns with pride,
but the blood has turned cold.
Between the indifferent rich,
the proles who've grown tired,
where a sea of blood,
meets horizon of fire.
Some view things as hopeless,
say acceptance is key,
but I'd rather die standing,
than living on knees.
For what can they do,
to a people with no hope,
refusing surrender,
will no longer cope.
When beasts are unchained,
a thunder with cleansing rain,
rambunctious, unyielding,
it won't be contained.
Liberty for man,
to distant to see,
but one things for certain,
he will have to bleed.
if you want seat at banquet
to partake in the meal,
uproot indignation.
replant it in steel.
If we seek to be free,
to control destiny,
observe this to do list,
heed this decree.
You must live,
fight,
kick,
scream.
Unite,
march
stand
lead.
Claw,
bite,
falter,
succeed.
Shoot,
kill,
and die,
free.
Copyright © Eugene Yeboah | Year Posted 2013
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