Prose Poetry Freedom Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Freedom

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Details | Prose Poetry |



I have little tolerance for tolerant people.
Those that will endure the corruption of
the truth, the erosion of meaning.  While at
the same time being intolerant of your
opinions, thoughts, and level of tolerance.

There is a quote attributed to Voltaire:
“I disapprove of what you say, but I will
defend to the death your right to say it.”

How many of the “tolerant” would be willing
to fight for our right to “disapprove of what
they say”?  Hush the crowd so that we might
be heard?  Unblock their ears and hearts and listen?

Does the present day “tolerance”
lack tolerance, lack understanding,
lack the ability to endure a voice that
is not in tune, does not sing the same 
song, does not pray the same prayer?

Or do they tolerate, put up with, the “fool”,
while denying acceptance of his opinions,
his beliefs.  Perhaps the fool is more tolerant than they.
Listening to what they say, watching how they
carry themselves, interact with those “different”
than themselves.

For they think him a “fool”, because they do
not know that he thinks, what he thinks,
and most sadly, they do not care to know.
They will tolerate his presence but not allow
him to be present, listen to his voice yet hear
nothing, speak of equality while lauding their
position, education, power over him.

For they are tolerant only of themselves,
of their ideas, their thoughts, their peers,
their alleged - equals.

They disapprove of us, and what we say,
and will defend their right to keep it so.

John G. Lawless – 6/9/2014 

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Pussy -vulnerabilities

Pussy (Vulnerabilities)


Men sometimes put no value to sex and the sacred decision a woman might hold dear for the reason to
Submit options of letting you indulge in her essences. See some have had men all over the world and there is one thing for
Sure that pussy has a name never a face, Mumu , myse ,kisse, pepita, catellus, passera, mita it  all mean
The same thing Pussy, pussy, pussy. And the truth of the matter is your sometimes not remembered or
Even thought about once you give the pussy up!
So guard and respect your pussy and you’ll be wiser for not giving it up, I thought of all the times I
Gave up my pussy and grieving the next day he was gone, nothing but a memory of the condom he either didn’t
Or did put on! I have disrespected my body for a moment of pleasure far too valuable to get rid of, and
The 15 minutes or less or if I’m lucky an hour of pleasure soon will be forgotten as he’s on to the next one
Or back with his main love or the one whose holding out, but she worth waiting for.
Pussy is abuse sometimes tainted with the smell of semen left inside you with your naïve ass, I’m not going
Anywhere imma be here for you, trust me so the pussy stinks reeks of disappointment!
As they get dressed to leave a delicate kiss on the forehead and a polite thanks for the pussy!
Don’t be this chick (hold out on giving up the Pussy, be known for your worth)
You’re so much more than ass or pussy! I now know my worth!

Written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines 9/16/2014
You have to be selective and or practice abstinence in order to be valued ,some women get lucky and he does come back the next day ,but for how long ? Men like to chase and if you give it up too easy its a waste of time ,hes no longer interested and will soon prowl for another ! Keep it to your self till the time is right ,if he won't wait then forget about him!

Copyright © Monica Chrisandtras Hines | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

What Is Poetry

What is poetry, I must ask? Writing poetry can be quite a task. Still I struggle and continue to write, Hmmm, for my delight, or  do I write from insight?  Although I get frustrated, very agitated, can"t  bring myself to hate it because I"m also captivated. You see, poetry is something very new, something I thought I would never do, yes I thought nothing of the kind, poetry never even crossed my mind. Until Rehad. I was jotting down stuff that was really drab, while in my mind I was repeating a phraise while giving The Lord praise. Then a voice I heard, "you can do much more with those words" I didn't have a clue of what I could do.

So I started to think, I started to strain but the more I strained the further away they became. I was completely baffled, it had stopped me cold, so I stopped trying and behold poem's started to unfold. Now the tide has turned, no more free ride it's time to learn, so some candles I must burn, like everything else poetry too, you must earn. Instead I duck, I dodge, I hide, thinking of anything to put them aside. With all the great poets how can I compete, I feel as though I'm already beat. So I get afraid and into the back ground I fade, trying my best to evade. But that's not the case for every morning I awake they are right back in my face. I'm thinking, this is not the norm, should I grab the bull by the horns. My head started to spin, thinking how do I begin.

And from out of my heart, following the other poets is a great place to start, in order to proceed you must not only write, you must also read and reading is showing me it takes special people to write poetry. Which also keeps me in check and for all you poets I have the utmost respect. So whether good or bad, I will nether smudge nor carry a grudge for I am not here to judge. I just want to be a part of these wonderful works of art. But Poetry, I wonder, what will I aquire and what will transpire? I guess I must travel the unknown but it's good to know, I don't walk alone. So I say again my friend. What Is Poetry, I Must Ask, Writing Poetry Can Be Quite A Task?

Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |



And on that day we will rise
And raise the hued shades of ignorance
And let the light of truth shine on our souls
And purify our hearts with warm rays of hope.

And on that day we will rise
And see rumors of wars sucked into black holes of peace.
And the phoenix birds shall give birth to cooing doves.

And on that day we shall confront our humanity
And boldly say to it, you must become all we can be;
And seek forgiveness for the acts that trampled the will of God;

And hope for redemption for the shredded dreams deferred.

And on that day America shall awaken from her slumber
And stretch forth her weary arms yawning a Nicodemus yawn.

And that day shall be the dawning of new beginnings;
And the chameleon shall change its colors no more.

And each hued hope shall be woven into the fabric of common destiny.
And the wheels of time shall roll us over into the New Jerusalem…

And on that day America will sing a new song;
And it shall be: My country’s tears to thee…
And on that day God will say: Well Done!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


DECEMBER 2015 - "For what is our hope, our joy, or the crown, in which we glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when He comes?" 1 Thessalonians 2:19

This year America waits,
With great anticipation.
For peace, love and joy,
Throughout the nation.

Christians are under attack,
For what is in their heart.
Hatred fills the air,
Our nation torn apart.

Death in our schools,
Murder on the streets.
Hurry, Jesus, we pray,
Before their goal is complete.

Freedom Religion,
A promise written true.
Not it's only if you follow theirs,
Christians know not what tio do.

We read more every day,
How we must suffer for His Cause.
Evil ones in control,
they pass the laws.

There was a time in history,
It was so long ago.
God sent His Only Son,
To teach us how to go.

In a humble stable He was born,
Written Word said it would be.
People given a reason to believe,
Praised Him in songs of victory.

We are lost without His son,
The Bright Star for all to see.
Please give us another sign,
To set Your People free.


Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |



Always have a book at hand,
In the parlor, bedroom and loo.
Condensed thought on paper,
This is the world for you.

My daughter loves to read,
Must have something to hold.
No cover or pages,
Not even a center fold.

Electronic books these days,
For the person on the go.
Flip it on for convenience,
Living color, like a show.

Reading can entertain,
Delight the lonely heart.
Those without education condemn it,
The learned ones tear it apart.

The many pieces of the written word,
Bring light to those in the dark.
Challenge the mind of the curious,
Give your life a spark.

No entertainment is so cheap,
No pleasure lasts as long.
Your mind flies o'er the pages,
The words are like a song.

The love of reading,
Challenges the soul.
Nothing else given to man,
Can make one whole.

There are those who read,
To know what the world has done.
Others to enhance their personal life,
To be the brightest one.

Master Sergeant, USAF - Retired

Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


GOD we blame you for the evil that we do. Why don't you keep coming to our rescue? Just wipe it all away, make everything new so the crazy and foolish things we can continue to do, then maybe, we will believe in you.

You see, we are highly intelligent we think we know better than you so when you hear us croon we want you to dance to our toon, now we may sound like buffoons but GOD we want you to make life a cartoon. Thence no consequence.

Even as children we have learned if you play with fire you will get burned and if you do dirt a lot of people could get hurt. But your laws are old from so long ago where it also say you shall reap what you sow and your old laws we want to overthrow.

Yes GOD, we are very smart we just refuse to understand that you made life real and not wonderland, which is why we say a woman can marry a woman and a man a man. If you get that sensation then it's aspiration, to us it's a good relation but you call it an abomination. That we won't even mention cause we pay it no attention.

Because we want our livelihood, to live like Hollywood, even if it's falsehood we still want you to make it all good. So your laws we want to change or rearange. We love to shake our groove thing, to make life a game where nothing matters but fortune and fame.

Therefore, we want to be players coz we love to play, the problem is it puts us on ground of very soft clay. Although it feels on solid ground we stand, it keeps turning into quicksand. As we are going down wearing an ugly frown, bidding ourselves adieu, we blame you.

Now GOD if to our every whim you would cater then we would stop being traitors and haters but only if you be our personal waiter. Since your consequences can be brutal and trying to change your laws is futile then we are highly disturbed so we'll have to kick you to the curd. 

We don't care about the preachers broadcasting, that you and your Word are from Everlasting to Everlasting. Furthermore, if you are The Father and The Master why would you let people go through such horrible disasters, while letting children die of cancer.

Knowing very well we're looking directly at the answer. For we know it's a crime, a shame and a disgrace when they let children play on land full of buried toxic waste. They know it's there they just don't care because they are in the land of milk and honey, so they do it in the name of power, fame, fortune, Greed, MONEY.

And they don't fret because they know the people are not a threat. As we turn our heads, twittle our thumbs, act dumb and even get numb and expecting a good outcome. While the bigwigs keep snapping people like twigs and using the public as guinea pigs. As they poison the air, the land, the water and the food too, yet GOD we blame you for the hellish and heinous things we do.

I remember hearing my father holler, gather around and hear me sing, this is my castle and I am the king. No one would open their mouth because there was no way we could tell our father how to run his house. You are our Heavenly Father and The Creator , we want to be the dictators and you our personal waiter, snap our finger and you're the operator.

Its all Vanity and what is the meaning of INSANITY?

Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


Trapped like a bird in this filthy cage 
Where I am starved of compassion and understanding 
Left to survive on meager crumbs 
Of affection and tolerance
Held captive and unable to fly and be free 
From the physical and emotional restrictions 
Placed upon me by my keeper
Who’s only reason for my presence it seems 
Is to stay its loneliness and insecurity 
To feed its selfish need for control 
Through its twisted concept 
Of love and adoration 
I am looked upon as a possession 
Other than the living, breathing individual 
That I long to be 

So now I sit upon my proverbial perch 
In my so called gilded cage
In the confines of my seemingly mundane existence 
And walk though my mind confused and alone
Aimlessly wandering through the now empty spaces 
That no longer hold the dreams or aspirations 
Which I once thought gave my life purpose 

Memories which were bright and alive 
Full of promise and hope but have faded away 
Into a past that is now grey and bleak 
Devoid of anything worth remembering 
My footfalls echo in the silence 
Giving testament that these memories 
Have been empty and forgotten long ago 

My only hopes now are that my keeper 
Will grow tired of my deliberate silence 
And obvious disdain and release me 
Whether through life or by death 
At this point either would be welcome 

How I long for the freedom 
And comfort of the clear blue sky 
The ability to soar like a bird 
High above the reaches 
Of those who only want to keep me 
And fly towards the bright and colorful horizon 
Where I know my future waits 
And new memories and dreams can be made.

Copyright © Thomas King | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


like the animals
in a zoo,
we roam freely
within our allowed 
and confined, yet
our cages are invisible---
we, like the unbarred 
no longer chained---
oblivious to his power---
will not move
beyond the mental keloid chain
hooked around our brain:

today, we just march 
and sing sad songs---aping
caged birds---
crying to fly away home.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Food For Thought

                              Here I go again, Another GOD send
                               For the realistic and the optimistic

Have you ever thought your life had another chapter, I'm talking about the here after?  A perpetual state where life is really great or that other place far down below where no one what's to go? I mean the one that's Heavenly, supreme, everlasting, serene far better than your most beautiful dream. Just imagine when your old life end a new life will begin one that's completely without sin. Or do you believe we live, we cry, we die absolutely no reason why, it's just hello and good by. Come on peep's  we all have a brain and knowledge there are to seek and retain, although some knowledge can drive you insane  while  some is purely in vain. 

Still you don't have to be a rocket science nor do your brain have to be immense for all you need to go far in this world is plane common sense. The Book of Life makes it perfectly clear, if you are not sincere your life will end here and love is the key to unlocking the door to infinity. I use to take The Bible for a joke  I can clearly see the signs of the times, was walking sleep. I'm woke. Then I started to wonder how can this book make  such awesome predictions if you look at the world you will see it's nonfiction. And who where the people that wrote with such majesty and might, better still who was the one that told them what to write?

I was going through life wild and carefree , I thought nothing could move me. Then I was told about the piper I would hear wise people say if you dance to his music one day you'll have to pay but it made no sense so I brushed it off  and man did it cost when I found myself completely lost. So I asked for the meaning, you really don't know, it's in the book of knowledge. AWE... You shall reap what you sow. Now I know.

If you call yourself slick and keeping out of sight, what ever done on the  dark shall come to the Light. You can defy, you can deny, just don't make the price too high.  Because there is a lot coming your way just for being born, some not so bad some well out of the norm and this is guaranteed as it is foretold so what ever you do don't add to the load. Or you might hear a snap or a crack from that final straw witch broke your back.  I'm  just letting it be known it's written in stone if you are going through something you are not alone. But  if you try to slip slide and hide thinking you'll never get caught LOOK here comes the piper. Food For Thought.

Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Of Man and Nature, a Democratic Union

"I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out"
-Walt Whitman

I walk the land as I want,
the flutter of the dove shudders my 
eyelids, dodging my step.
My soul, linking all souls, passes through 
trees on my trail, bounding among planets 
glimpsed between the apex of pine. I have 
no fear of being beyond my body, nor 
does the seed that falls from spent flower, 
anguish beyond time. The unseen bloom, 
millenial light-years away, shares 
inherent liberty. Many will gather these 
words and hold them to the highest light, 
that of our Creator, whose compassion 
trifles not with material gain, but with 
justice and liberty for all living things,
(equal with respect to all previous 
sufferings and triumphs centuries before) 
So it is with high diligence I value the true 
compass of man and woman, forever 
linked with our inalienable rights, as 
nature intends.

© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Thomas The Jefferson's Train

In my dream
Thomas Jefferson pops out a pilgrim
in The Jeffersons family,
proprietors of Chinese laundries
on the best end of Main Street’s forested path
emerging toward Sanford Sons and Daughters Recycling Dump.

Here, midst polyglot stone soups
both informing and deforming,
occasionally reforming,
Thomas declares revolutionary interdependence with Earth’s dignity
as his senior honor’s thesis
read out boldly to collegial students
teaching cultural enrichment,
hoping for co-empathic network surges
of WinWin political ecological outcomes.

Thomas, sometimes called Red behind his considerable backside,
discovered repurposing as national economic thesis
and recovering recycling paths of golden intentions
as political antithesis
of terrorist fascist Christians
who had hoped to grow up
to join SuperJewish kibbutzisms
which was merely a more high-toned reference
to the pilgrim’s village recycling crashdump
of at-risk people looking for more inviting places
with sufficient space
for the entire upstairs-downstairs Jefferson Tribe
of Arabic DayDream stews
and stud muffins.

When Red heard young Thomas hoped to revive Taoist MidWays
all along pilgrim’s Main Street sonnets and plays
he prayed to Martha Washington
“My heart, my heart,
I could not survive such disrational empirical deconstruction!”

Somehow SuperHero Thomas the Jeffersonian Train
regenerated a multicultural chain of fools
to revolve this foxy precycling plant
into a WuWei forest of sweet and sour bodhisattva delights,
currency accepted up as down NurturingWay’s carnival street
in Jefferson’s NoShirtTicket-NoLaundryService busy mess
of humanity deforming Earth’s Rights
to procreate recreation of poli-eco-normic education,
schools of synchronic swimming Red Jeffersonian fish
remembering how to pilgrim surf thru interracial plowing seasons
to turn out hot melting stone soup feasts
of uniting nation futures
invested in laundering unhealthy wealth
until Thomas redreamed rainbow cream.

As Thomas this Jefferson Train
pulled away from FlyAway pilgrimage station,
he called out to all repurposing Foxes,
Merry CoMessiahs to all nations
and states of recycling benighted dreams.

Now there’s a good night’s sleep
you’ll never address backward inside-out again.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

My freedom

Lying on my bed
Afraid to sleep
Crying out loud
To reveal my feelings

Holding my pillow
Afraid of life
Looking far in the blues
To reveal my heart

Locking my door
Afraid to come out
Searching my imaginations
To reveal the reality

Stretching my hands
Afraid to embrace
Calling a dove
To set me free

Copyright © Olivia Nimley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Old Friends

Quakers build their cooperative politics
on following consensually-held fertile lights.

Buddha adds,
Follow your TruthLight,
back through our universal co-arising (0)-spacetime equi-valence
dualdark Out/In Breathing-Landscapes BiCameral MindBody Balance,
ecology of birth through regenerate rebirth
of eco-ego-cooperative Zen-Zero-investment
Earth-0-centric Health EcoReGenerativity,
Creativity of Love and Synergetic PolyCultural LightSource.

Bucky adds,
To follow your cooperative economic and political TruthLight,
worry less about struggling against BusinessAsUsual anthro-centric systems,
invest 100% in Plan A,
as ReGeneratively Functioning Ionic Icon "RNA"
thermodynamic principle of fractal-dialectal balance
in natural dynamic syntax,
the Language of God as Time,
if you will,
also ecological truths
about regenerative health cooperative design
and delivery systems
for Spaceship Earth,
and each of her little holonic Ego-Plan B bicameral-biosystems,
RNA-embryonic revolving information,
devolving, recessing, depressing
competitively dissonant disecological undersurface
cooperative confluent rational

My oldest friend,
his last words to me,
You are relentlessly too generous
in your assessments of others.
You insist on discovering
how other fools
and parasites
may be doing their best,
living through their karmic grace
of opportunity,
with concomitant risks
to their future's inevitable health,
or absence thereof,
I fear this dualdark Time.

My first thought:
May it always be so.

If only because I also relentlessly hope
others will be as generous with me,
interpreting my outcomes to date,
my orthopraxis,
my co-mentoring cooperating lifestyle,
my family relationships,
which seem to have little to do with the one just above,
decomposing my nutritional value, good and true and wholesome,
and co-arising toxic disvalues,
lost opportunities to reduce risks,
not choosing to invest full-cooperative
in future generations of time.

My second thought:
Fools doing our best to entertain each other
with rumors of divine comedy,

That nondual spiritual teachers
are also Earth nature
and human-nature Elder Right-brain listeners
and balanced speakers
and co-mentors of cooperation,
and ecological teachers,
and ecoconscious scientists and researchers,
and bicameral analysts,
and designers of temporal-neural primetime folds,
evolutions of RNA-syntaxed LeftBrain
Creation as ReGeneration Story of Light's DiPolar Evolution/Devolution Language

That nondual naturalists
are also Paradise,
Beloved Community,
diastatic Climax co-redeemers,
or have objectives confluent with their meaning
and purposive teleologies of nature,
evolving regeneratively healthy
bilaterally co-gravitational-balanced
ecoconsciousness of TaoTime.

Where Yang-P always tries to equal YinYin N(NP) values
and norms and neutralities of ecometric-nutrient
fuel of bilateral time as space dimensioned,
(0)-soul dipolar bilateral open-dynamic temporal-syntaxed
regenerative memory ecosystem.

often develop polynutritional health v. pathology
listening skills, noticing with all five senses,
co-redemptive co-arising absorbers,
and facilitators,
and eco-mentors
and permacultural teachers
and mystics.

My third thought:
(I know, but this is ReGenerative Threshold Counting)
There is no more the possibility of nature
without dynamic spirit of energy,
co-arising primal-temporal relationship,
than there could become the possibility
of Spirit
without nurturing nature,
and sometimes not really all that much nurturing,
ecosystemic form with nutrient optimization function,
teleological intention as positive-regenerate-health.

Just as
We could have no spacetime matter,
absent dynamic temporal-bilateral energy,
No Yang-Space without Yin BiLateral Time.

My fourth thought:
We would have no Left-brain dominant culture
with capacity for deductive languaged processing,
without prior cultural baptism in Elder RNA Right Embryonic MindBody
Temporal-Development Dominant,
Time's dipolar root-systemic co-gravitation
fueling nutrient balance,
4-season light/dualdark equi-valence,
dialectical regenerative WinWin
Universal Open Systemic Game Theory
of (0) Zen TaoTime Economic and Political CoOperative Investment.

My final thought:
We are notnot angry nature,
so notnot fearful spirit,
but spirited natural ecosystems
of dynamic spiraling,
stretching toward diastatic Climax emergence,
(0)Mega Paradise of regenerative TaoTime's
bi-landscaped Twin Rivers
of Rich UCAG-temporal syntax
produces nutritional/toxic becoming
dipolar bicameral
ecoconsciousness of light as health
and dualdark as opportunities to reculture pathology,
to co-arise our global RNA/DNA Cooperative
for Economic and Politically ReGenerative
Balance of (0)-interest Time,
paying-it-co-arising invested evolving
revolving reiterating forward,
Earth LifeTime Health Rights,
lowering investment risks
in unbalanced wrongs.

We are spirals of revolving-evolving
lights and darks of time remembered
through timeless autonomic Elder memory,
dipolar breathing feeling out and in,
nutrient blood beating and ebbing and flowing,
and stereophonic listening for harmonic balance,
and seeing in full color octaves,
then thinking bilateral endo-Ego/ecto-Eco symbiotically,
bicameral deductive/inductive freedom of ego-ecoconsciousness,
following time's generosity of light.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


"The noble man makes noble plans, and by noble deeds he stands" Isaiah 32:8

Decoration Day, declared,
For homes and everywhere.
Flags and flowers now in vogue,
Want us to be aware.

Battles rage, war goes on,
When will it cease?
Americans died in uniform,
Remember our own, please.

Memorial Day it now is called,
Our heroes names we read.
The sound of Taps, a mother's tears,
A sorrowing time indeed.

June 14th comes along,
Our flag to honor true.
For those colors many bled and died,
The red, the white and the blue.

Soon now, we do it again,
Independence Day is nigh.
Freedom bought with lives,
Raise the flag up high.

In November we honor Veternas,
All are heroes now.
Every gender, race, religion,
To you we humbly bow.

Are four days in a year enough,
Their service to recall?
Parents, families and friends,
Will kneel and praise them all.

Lord we give them back to you,
Your Promise to fulfill.
Thank you for sharing them here on earth,
We miss them still.

MSgt USAF Retired

Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Close enough

Closer to the clouds 
Soaring through the soft misty flocks of vapour
Touching the overstretched never ending horizons
Closer to the clouds
Reaching for the elusive galaxy scattered with stars

Outside my window, birds perched on window panes
Breathing the hopes of life
Burying their worries, letting them go
Soaring away the pains of yesterday
The distance reassures me of the longer road I have
Waiting working of what might come
Relieving the old alleys
Streets that left me hanging, roaming 
Stranded with loneliness

Break from the fast pace of life
Dive into total surrender
Break from our shallow life filled with plans
The never ending ambitious dreams
Capturing each moment, not giving any a miss

The small sentiments
The simple notions
The innocent thoughts 
And the crazy bedlams
Thrive, we will.

Copyright © Eli Mahirah | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Justice for All

When Christmas comes, we hope for rebirth of truth and love, man for man,
from the story spoken time after time to children who hear other (hate) words 
and wonder if it's true that Jesus Christ is the Savior and King of the Jews.
Throughout history, the world despises and slings venom as dung for every ear. 
Truth matters not; that God held Jews above every man. Jealousy reigns and 
envy turns to bile. During that "War of all wars," one man, blinded by hate 
and driven by evil, screamed death and power.The German people were victims
of lies, repeated ad nauseam, that force creates a perfect race, a just cause for
 killing the Jews, the lame, the old, the blind, "useless humanity," he called them.

But destruction snares those who hate and justice reigns where hearts are true.
Heroes are born and demons are crushed. After the horrors of war, a peaceful
era when many learn to respect the Jews and deplore the deeds of one vile man.
Only fools applaud evil or excuse atrocities fueled by hate. NATO restored 
their land, re-established the Jewish nation in 1948. Some resisted, and fought 
against them. Why can we not embrace the truth - that every man deserves life, 
free from wrath? The time has come. It's long overdue, Let us see it for Jewish
and Christians alike. For now, the misguided hate us too. We stand together 
against prejudice. 

   When Christmas comes, we hope for rebirth of truth and love, man for man,
from the story spoken time after time to children who hear other (hate) words 
and wonder if it's true that Jesus Christ is the Savior and King of the Jews.
Throughout history, the world despises and slings venom as dung for every ear. 
Truth matters not; that God held Jews above every man. Jealousy reigns and 
envy turns to bile. During that "War of all wars," one man, blinded by hate 
and driven by evil, screamed death and power.The German people were victims
of lies, repeated ad nauseam, that force creates a perfect race, a just cause for
 killing the Jews, the lame, the old, the blind, "useless humanity," he called them.

But destruction snares those who hate and justice reigns where hearts are true.
Heroes are born and demons are crushed. After the horrors of war, a peaceful
era when many learn to respect the Jews and deplore the deeds of one vile man.
Only fools applaud evil or excuse atrocities fueled by hate. NATO restored 
their land, re-established the Jewish nation in 1948. Some resisted, and fought 
against them. Why can we not embrace the truth - that every man deserves life, 
free from wrath? The time has come. It's long overdue, Let us see it for Jewish
and Christians alike. For now, the misguided hate us too. We stand together 
against prejudice. 

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Always Remember

Their journey towards our freedom 
began the moment they chose to serve.

Our freedom hurt.
It hurt to leave the warmth and security of their homes.

It hurt to participate in the grueling basic training exercises.

It hurt to leave the tear-stained faces of their loved ones,
not knowing if they would ever return.

There was no comfort on the hard, cold metal floors 
of the transport planes that flew them into the heart of danger.

It hurt to have raw, festering blisters on their feet and ankles....
trudging for miles and miles over hard, unforgiving pavement.

They marched forward anyway....

It tore their hearts to shreds to witness the horrific suffering
and gruesome deaths of their beloved brothers in combat.

The ones who lived; often bore painful, debilitating,
permanent injuries to mind, body & soul.

Their once innocent minds, now tattooed with hellish images.

Let us never forget....a heroes heart bears tremendous pain.
Pain we may never be able to understand, or feel.

Always remember the selfless sacrifices that they made;
for the love of family, friends, freedom and country.

It hurts to be a hero.

They marched forward anyway.

Copyright © Kimberly Shaw | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |



Sitting here flowing
through the meters of time
like a smooth spring stream
meandering through forest greens,
I peruse the many folds
of the caverns of this fluid mind of mine;
searching for words that would rhyme
to tell the stories of illustrious dreams.

Life can sometimes be void,
emotionless and quite stoic; but
such cannot be the condition or position
of the darker hued poet.

We too, have stories of old to be told too;
the eager minded needing to know.
So rise you mighty Griots; and
weave the tales of our great kings and queens.

Let us hail the coming of ages
of our beginnings here; landing
packed like sardines in a can---
we have still survived;

And now here we stand rooted in this land;
no longer shrouded by the veil of fear.
Body and Soul, we‘re still here;
a new day has dawned and we’ve arrived.

Come children, beat the ancestral drum:
Ba Dom! Ba Dom! Ba Dom! Dom! Dum!
Its Jubilee time!  Liberation time!  Beat the drum:
Ba Dom! Dom! Dom! De Dum! Dom Dum!
		The freedom bell has rung:
		Ba dom dom dom!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


Close your eyes for awhile my friend, I heard there lies a moon far behind the black sky, I heard lovers were dancing beneath, can you hear them singing? I can feel their tipsy steps making rhymes on floor, and smell of perfumes filling the air, I heard a sun rises to brighten up their world, and birds do sing them charming melodies at morning, they say they have roses in colors and beautiful trees in the streets, and have they told you about the sea yet? They say it smells so wonderful and the delicate air of seas caresses their cheeks with soft wet breezes, oh my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the fragile ghosts that we are!

“Hush” whispered to me, “I lighted up a moon inside my heart and I smell lilies and jasmine in my nose, my dreams play tunes my heart dance on, they speak to me all night and there I see a starry night floats above, I feel the warmth of a sun in my soul as it hugs tight, whispering to me hymns of love and joy, lightening candles for hopes which had accompanied me amongst the dark, why have you closed your eyes my friend? Look through the colorful roses I painted for you with eyes wide open, let the lights off so you would see clearer, let the lights off so you can brighten up the world that hides with you, for my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the free spirits that we have become!

* If you enjoyed this piece, follow the link and share your thoughts

Copyright © Samar Saleh | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Declaration of InterDependence

When in the Course of Earth’s climatic events, 
it becomes necessary for cultures to resolve political bands 
which have connected Her with human nature, 
and to assume among the powers of Earth, 
separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Earth’s Health entitle them, 
a deep respect for the opinions of others requires 
that we should declare the causes which impel us to this Declaration of Interdependence.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, 
that all Earth’s Tribes are primally regenerative, 
that we are endowed by Elders with certain unalienable Rights,
that among these are Life as Love, 
Liberty from Terror and Liberty to Nurture, 
and the evolution of  CoOperative Health as Happiness.
That to secure these rights, 
Governments are instituted within and between Earth’s Tribes, 
deriving our just powers through therapeutic discernment of the governed, 
That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of Healthy Life, 
and CoOperative Happiness, 
it is the Right of Earth’s Tribes to alter or to abolish it, 
and to institute new Government, 
laying its cooperative foundation on such ecological principles 
and organizing its health-powers in such form 
and multicultural function, 
as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Health Safety and Loving Happiness. 

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that regenerative nutrient-systems long established 
should not be changed for light and transient causes; 
and accordingly all experience has shown, 
that human nature is more disposed to suffer, 
while evils are sufferable, 
than to right ourselves by evolving the self-governing functions 
to which we are more accustomed. 
But when a long train of anthrocentric abuses and usurpations of power 
used as a weapon, 
evinces a design to reduce multiculturally enriching outcomes 
under anthrocentric despotism, 
it is Earth’s right,
it is EarthTribe’s regenerate duty, 
to throw off such pathologies of government, 
and to provide new mentors and models for future health and security.

Such has been the patient sufferance of these DNA/RNA Tribes; 
and such is now the necessity which constrains us 
to cooperatively reweave our former Competing Systems of Government. 

The history of the present nation-states is a history of repeated injuries 
and usurpations of cooperative governance powers, 
all having in direct object the establishment of mutual immunity 
and anthrocentric hubris. 

To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
We have refused Earth’s Assent to Love’s Natural Laws, 
the most wholesome and necessary for good multicultural outcomes.
We have discouraged governments from passing laws of immediate and pressing climatic importance.
We have refused to pass other laws for the accommodation of all Earth’s Tribes 
and EcoSystems, 
a right inestimable to them 
and formidable to tyrants only. 

We have dissolved entire species and healthy ecosystems repeatedly, 
opposing with manly firmness Earth’s matriotic rights of  healthy evolution.

We have refused WinWin ecotherapeutic orthopraxis for a long time, 
nation-states remaining in the mean time exposed to all the WinLose dangers 
of aggressive invasion from without, 
and terrorist convulsions within.

We have endeavoured to remove and destroy indigenous populations of these States; 
refusing to  encourage their healthy migrations, 
and appropriating Earth’s Commons through commodification.

We have affected to render the Military independent of WinWin therapeutic outcomes 
and competitively superior to Civil powers 
of active political and economic cooperation.

We have combined with other nations 
to subject ourselves to a jurisdiction foreign to Earth’s regenerative constitution, 
not acknowledging symbiotic processes 
of mutually subsidiary and complementary evolution.

We have not protected ourselves from punishment and defiance 
by deep learning rewards of empathic trust 
and healthy love of truths within nutritious beauty.

We have plundered our seas, 
ravaged our Coasts, 
burnt our habitats, 
and suboptimized the lives of our diverse nonverbal and marginalized residents.

We have supported domestic insurrections, 
hate amongst us.

A Princely Species 
whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, 
is unfit to be the ruler of Earth’s free Tribes.

Nor have we been wanting in petitioning our governors. 
We have reminded them of the circumstances of our co-arising emigration 
and settlement here on Earth. 
We have appealed to humane justice and empathic trust, 
and we have conjured them with the ties of our DNA/RNA kindred 
to disavow these usurpations, 
which would inevitably interrupt our connections and transactions. 
Many leaders are deaf to ecosystemic justice and consanguinity. 
We must, therefore, 
acquiesce in the necessity to hold governors, 
as we hold all creations, 
Potential Allies in Struggle, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, in General Earth Commons, 
Assembled Occupiers, 
appealing to the Supreme Judge of Earth’s Regenerative Health 
for the rectitude of our intentions, 
do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good Creations of Earth and Sun,
solemnly publish and declare, 
That these uniting national ecosystems are, 
and of Right ought to be Free and Interdependent States; 
Absolved from all Patriotic Allegiance to Matriotic Suppression, 
and all political and economic disconnection between human and nothuman natures 
is and ought to be totally dissolved; 
and as Free and Interdependent States, 
we have full Power to levy and conclude Peace, 
contract EcoAlliances, 
establish CoOperative Commerce, 
and to do all other Acts and Things which Interdependent States may of right do. 

And for the support of this Declaration, 
with a firm reliance on the protection of Earth’s Providence, 
we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, 
our Economic Fortunes and our sacred Political Honor.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Make A Wish

Where morning is new
And so is its grace,
Oh my lover! Let's go to that place,

Where people are strangers,
And so are we,
Where no one asks our happiness,
Nor care for our grieve,

Where neither priests preach,
Nor kazis do teach,  
Where neither mosques make noise,
Nor temples show-off pride,

Where neither exist caste-creeds',
Poisonous stringers,
No existence of any minister,
Emperor nor beggar,

Where bloomed garden is found,
With heart of man kind,
You be the fragrance of flowers,
I shallbe the gentle wind,
Oh my lover! Let's fly to that place,
Where day is new and so is its grace,
Oh my lover! Let's fly to that place....."July 4, 2016

Copyright © Vivek Agnihotri | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

If this is freedom take me to Robinson Island

If this is freedom take me to Robinson Island

When shall we again sing the redemption songs?
The strings of freedom are long forgotten in my nation
Injustice is their system and we pledge to resistance
The freedom our mothers and fathers fought for is enjoyed by the exclusive
The songs of freedom only sound in their ears oh the Lion of my land
Is it not yesterday we condemned injustice and oppression of us the sub Saharan?

Is this what you fought for oh Tongogara?
They enjoy the tax payer’s bread on arms to tyrannize him
I’m embarrassed of my motherland who acquisitions arms in a not
For war but its citizens, then shall it be a state with inhabitants in terror?
We have suddenly became terrorists and suspects in our motherland oh Nehanda
It seems you fought for the graduation of black oppression instead of independence oh my King Nkomo
Raise your head and experience a glance the morning sun again
Those who points out evil are now the enemy by our own leaders
Ask me of the scent of food, water, freedom right I hardly can tell but
I can draw for you the sound of guns sirens teargas button sticks, shockers and
The weight of hand cuffs as well as the walls of Chikurubi and
Oh Lobengula let your bones rise for us our cherished grandpa

For how long oh Kaguvi shall we be second class citizens in our homes
They prefers a white friend for a black one Neo-colonialism some call it
The marketplace you left us oh King Musika are now for the Asian investors
Not it is bad, but our prohibition of vending even in the corners of our towns
You find your child under the rod of a lawman not for crime but gathering for his
Family while foreigners and elite ones are marketing indoors
In their road blocks it either you are white or you pay

If this is freedom the lock me up in chains of slavery
They fail to respect the edicts we contracted on as one, and claim our freedom fo us
Is it so
They rule the book not by it or letting to rule.
Wealthy and deep pockets is abiding by the law for the tribunal is on sale
Justice is now found in the market place than the courtrooms
Say a word against them congratulate me if you see the morning sun
We pray for our sons and daughters oh Lion of my nation,
For how long shall they persecute our prophets oh Fathers of Africa
Chikurubi has rather been turned into a church and school for the just lie in her bosom
For how long o God shall we be captive in our own homes
If things gets hard we calm if they are harder were most calm
In their hardest times composure dwells in us but the time has come
Tajamuka, sesijamukile hatichada sesifuni enough is enough

Copyright © collen gaga | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

I Ain't Feelin' It

Could what a political scientist would call
deeply held belief
also be what a psychologist could identify as a
feeling of affinity or aversion,
trust or distrust,
confluent familiarity or cognitive-affective dissonance?

"I deeply believe Tasteless Trump
is the logical conclusion
so richly deserved by the Republican Party."

Is this position rooted in a belief system
or an empathic feeling of trust/distrust system
or are these dualistic ways
to speak of one nondual feeling-belief mindbody system?

If our political and economic choices
evolve out of our complex sensory networks
of health v pathology,
both ego-internal
and eco-external,
both endo- and ecto-symbiotically evolving,
then how do I know
that what you believe
is not what I experience
as a feeling of trust v. distrust, dissonance,
basic aptic contentment,
or stressful stretching
to find co-empathic commensurability,
as something nondually in-between
your evolving belief systems
and my evolving feeling sensory-rooted systems?

For political party planning,
community organizers have a useful iconic principle:
Highest and best original investment system
will generate the most widely replicable positive community outcomes,
but only for those well-spoken,
within the original highest and best co-investor system.

Or, something like that.

Permaculture Designers have a similar system design principle:
Greatest effect with least loss, least effort, least suffering, least dissonance.

Combining these may reproduce a new-old Golden poli-economic Rule
of ReGenerative Systems Development:
Optimize systemic belief/feeling integrity
by learning holistic wins of love management,
given current co-investor potential.

Given current poli-economic co-investor potential for
freedom toward health, as freedom from pathological anger,
freedom toward love, freedom from fear of fear itself,
freedom toward learning trusting truths of co-empathic beauty,
as freedom from dissonant terrors 
of self and other hatred,
fundamentalist monocultural elitism,
sociopathic anthrocentric suprema-cynicism,
suicidally hypnotic addictive self-idolatry 
of LeftBrain ego-predative dominance.

More holistic current feeling/belief learning potential
evolves love/synergy through inclusive deep listening
and then intentional practice 
of co-empathic eco-compassion.

Deep learning our belief-feeling continuum,
noticing what were oppositions now feel like heuristic appositions,
slowly, integrally,
inclusively discerning our shared vision 
for optimizing potential regenerative co-empathic trust intent.

Given my current
     scientific research/spiritual development
situation and story,
my blessings and apparent curses,
resonance and poli-economic flat-line echoing silent dissonance,
I am trying to do my part to regenerate healthy ecosystems
biosystems of life and dying decomposition,
with least loss and suffering,
ecopolitical death,
resulting in highest and best nutritional effect
for my,
and our,
and Earth's feeling-beliefs,
both political and economic,
ecologically evolving systems
for health regenerating safety
of future generations,
our EarthTribal PostMillennial CoInvestment,
our vulnerable innocents facing climatic transitions.

Would both political and psychological scientists
recognize an embryonic DNA/RNA scripted baby
as a deeply rooted belief/feeling system,
hopefully evolving toward political and economic maturity?

Like Republic Party Investors
giving birth to Donald Trump as their Favorite RelentlesslyWhite,
nonIslamic Son,
to re-present their most nutritional offering
and sacrifice,
a sacramental icon of political and economic monocultural elitism,
not recognizing the superior polycultural power of co-empathic trust
has already slapped them in the face;
but just to wake us up to our own naked absence
of basic trust
in double binding principles
of political subsidiarity to 
economics of integral-dialectical-nondual complementarity;
trust beliefs form as well-fed feelings flow.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Caged Lion

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Caged Lion
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: June/1986

    He raised his head above the 
cell from which he had been 
caged for many years -

    Out beyond the locks, and 
chains, shuffling visions of 
freedom waltzed before his 
ageing frown, and vacant
stare -

    To him, it seemed that hope 
whistled between the bars, only 
to die inside his heart -

     But, the lion inside him 
roared! and would never stop 
fighting to be free, from the 
cage with black steel bars -

Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Like Fish in Water

Like fish
for whom water might have the transparent invisibility 
of ubiquitous healthy atmosphere,
our primal natural-spiritual nondual first love
and last hope
is for ever-more regenerative health trends,
and not degenerative pathology trends.

That being so,
if indeed I have this Left-Right balanced accurately,
conserve-progress polypathically,
economically and politically,
then health optimization for both LeftBrain ego conservatism
and RightBrain ecoconscious nondual freedom of integrity,
can never settle for WinLose choices,
instead, using these emerging competing choices
toward discerning WinWin multicultural regenerativity.

This could be true within a humane-divining individual,
within secular-sacred families and households,
within natural dynamic-enspirited, 
cooperatively-owned and managed economies,
and between politically incorporated governments,
as it is true within any regeneratively trending healthy ecosystem,
whether explicitly,
or merely implicitly,
bi-lateral balancing our nondualist co-arising journey
toward WinWin healthy ego/eco-consciousness,
like fish in ecotherapeutic waters.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.

Copyright © Molly McCarthy | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Flight of the Bumblebee

As the dew drops
from a blade of grass,
dips my head
and heaves my chest.

The recycled air
o’ brethren fallen
ignites my ire,
a primal rage.

How the moments stretch
and shrink at will;
In the present only;
neither future
nor past defined.

Beneath the surface,
you will unearth
a man, made whole.

Copyright © Jacob Welch | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


Do you think-?
Do you think
That we should think; 
How we use to think.?
At least we use to think.
What do you think..? 
It's time to think.

Are your thoughts
Planted seeds from from
Some strange Ideas 
Of some strangers, strange needs?
Of some need, that served
A need of some needs...
That no longer serve our needs,

Do you know where you begin 
Or where you end? 
Have you been programmed
Over and over again..
Have you a clue as to 
Who you really are,,? 
Do your thoughts radiate fusion 
As as does a star...?

Can you produce an original thought, 
Can't prove your point
Because it has not been written yet..
YET you know;
Just because you just know.
Because you feel the cause is Just
Where self begins;
Deep within your gut!
Original man.?
Not because someone said it's so.
Was not that the cause, 
Of what was called "original sin"..? 

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Becoming The Ruler Of Zion

You have the gene in you and the potential is indeed luminous but you want to roar while still a mere cub. Wait and pass through the test cos if it's not a Lion it can never be a Lion. Being a part of the family isn't enough being mentioned in the roll-call isn't final if this makes you satisfied then you are simply an added number and a completer of the table like the inert gas, neon. You need not be a relative to achieve in magnitude the successes of Celine Dion. But effective networks and good friends are the only way or else your hard work will reap no rewards in eon. But take note of your cliques and peel from afar before coming close or else your sight will be bitten by the onion. Dining with loud mouths toiling with scoffers and having a fool as your companion are worse than sleeping with a red hot Iron. Cling unto the tree of these lines and chew from their sour produce then shall you be a champion and the mighty ruler of Zion.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014