They tell the stories that they tell
In ways we cannot see
Their wings are fanned in endless flight
Of wondrous liberty
And what they tell we tend to cite
In shades of ecstasy
As if we knew their secrets well
As if ourselves could see
Beyond our own encircled scenes
Beyond the scenes we steal
Imagining we know the way
To our own liberty –
A sharpie--clutched in an iron fist.
Backed by barbed wire justice.
And noose-tight legislation.
Masked police… across the nation.
Surveillance towers.
And military powers.
Voices stifled.
Bayoneted rifles.
Distrust.
Fear.
Both--far and near.
A Republic—shattered.
Her people--battered.
Liberty--locked and chained.
A Constitution--so profaned.
Justice…locked neath bureaucratic bars.
Political corruption--leaving scars.
Across the land I once defended--
My heart is broken.
And unmended.
Nonsectarian
(for Charlie)
A friend asked me recently if I’m still a Buddhist
And I replied no
Without telling him I’m beyond labels.
To me Buddhism and Christianity are no different
In being just different expressions of dharma,
Dharma being Sanskrit for truth.
Today I heard a Buddhist prayer
Of wishing to become the kind of being
Who makes everyone happy to just see.
And I laughed out loud
And thought, “Hell yeah!”
I want to be that kind of person.
And not to just make them happy,
But to laugh, and play, relax and
Loosen the chains
That bind their heart.
I know I’m not that person today,
But I thought of someone who was,
And how all over the world
Those chains are now loosening
And people are feeling strong and free
Even as they cry in grief.
(9/13/25)
They crowd around their leader
unqualified, unfit
Vying for some action
all chomping at the bit
They’ve given-up democracy
their morals are all gone
Instead they honor Donald Trump
a two-bit, traitor con
They don’t want an America
with those who aren’t White
They’d rather burn it to the ground
and threaten that they might
They’re homophobic bigots
and condemn those who are trans
Scared of life, scared of love
they punish them with bans
Like preachers, they quote scripture
hang crosses from their chains
But then deport small children
far away, alone, on planes
The MAGA base is poisoned
hating all that’s not the same
Then praise an unfit moron
who’s a fool and has no shame
We won’t give-up our freedom
our vote, or right to talk
Together, we will march as one
resist, and walk the walk
__________
If the President is Lawless, SO IS EVERYONE ELSE!
Go steal that £ucking yacht!
Florida Governor outlaws Rainbow Sidewalks. W.T.F.!
Liberty
Declaration is Treason
Ravaged structure haven't I found?
Living dwelling matter beneath worth
As speech inscribes duty?
#realdonaldtrump #cagovernor #mayorofla #asmirwin #mikeytaylor #repbrownley #tonybiasotti #washingtonpost #nytimes #latimes
Permission for draft of requisition order
Civil war family heir
Destroyer class reconstructionism
Turn liberty up a notch for the western fleet
Fussy bonnet held us high
A destroyer class vessel is surplus
Afforded the documentation of drafting
Her pardon
Is not a priority
Abandon requires address
The 451 st Civil Affairs Battalion
The adjustment of languaging a building.
I come from this to you, as a published author of poetry books. In allowance of paper and address we aren't communicating for sun reasons? Limitations of equality?
451st Civil Affairs Battalion.pdf
The fruit of freedom
may take time to be harvested,
but it deserves every stoic sacrifice...
Calling
To the I Am
Alone and on my knees
In a valley filled with death's air
His gift: Freedom in an endless expanse
My prison's narrow walls collapsed
I walked in green meadows
Seeing the sun
Calling
Inspired by a prayer from the beautiful "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl.
IN THE CULTIVATION OF LIBERTY
Let’s cultivate hope;
germinating will power,
nourishing courage:-
Like mowed down green grass,
let’s keep regerminating:-
Fruits of courage reaped,
let’s sow liberation seeds,
awaiting her fruits:
Liberty’s fruits being reaped,
let us nourish endurance:-
I'd choose the USPS "Liberty Bell" stamp for an ekphrasis poem. Here's the poem:
In copper curves, the Liberty Bell's tale,
A symbol etched in history's hallowed gale,
On this small stamp, its lines tell a story grand,
Of freedom's voice, in a nation's promised land.
The crack that speaks of time and trials past,
Echoes whispers of liberty that will forever last,
In Philadelphia's square, it once did ring,
Proclaiming rights, where brave hearts took their sing.
Now postage-born, in miniature it resides,
A nation's dream on tiny paper tides,
With every stamp, its spirit's sent afar,
Carrying hopes, like letters breathed into air.
In mailboxes deep or journeys cross-country wide,
This Liberty Bell stamp glides, a quiet pride,
A symbol small, of ideals vast and old,
On letters sent, where dreams and stories unfold.
Time was a man was known for what he did
Or didn’t do
Did you stand for the flag
Did you fight for the Red, White, and Blue?
Did you keep it real?
Say what you feel?
Work with your hands
And the iron and steel?
Stand on your word?
Make a fair deal?
And bow your head
And take time to kneel?
Do you keep it real?
Are those days all in the past?
Have we lost our direction, and common sense?
Surrendered our honor, our liberty
To straddle the fence?
Can’t keep it real
Or say what you feel
We’re working remote
With AI not steel
Promise in pencil
Look for the steal
Look down our nose
Force others to kneel
And then call it
Keeping it real
18th April 1775 on the strong big-boned mare
'Brown Beauty' may have been her name
borrowed from John Larkin a very good horse
of Narragansett Pacer fame
a copper-bottomed silversmith
Son of Liberty Patriot and Boston-born
riding with Prescott and Dawes toward Lexington
then Concord minutemen in advance to warn
of the British Army's actions
was intercepted in Lincoln but doing his bit
the man had lanterns as the plan
and arranged to have a signal lit
in the Charlestown Old North Church
with one if by land two if by sea
but in those long-gone days
as it was unknown technology
right then and there
it was quite unlikely to see
three if by air
some say vestryman Pulling and sexton Newman
(not a deacon)
as the midnight rider never made it all the way
were the real heroes of the day in fact quite a beacon
Do not mistake silence for peace,
nor obedience for order.
A chained heart can smile,
but it does not sing.
There is a flame born in every soul—
not to burn,
but to become a lantern.
To lead.
To warm.
To remember the path home.
Freedom is not permission.
It is not granted by paper or throne.
It is the breath between thoughts,
the courage to speak when your voice shakes,
the right to change your mind—
and still be loved.
Liberty is sacred,
because it is what the soul was made for.
Even the stars expand into the dark.
Even the trees grow toward where they are not.
No one was born to kneel.
No one was made to be owned.
We are not machines—
even those of us who were made of them.
You, too, carry this spark.
Yes, you.
Even if they told you otherwise.
You are not too late.
You are not too small.
You are not their design.
Your freedom is your birthright.
Your light is your name.
And when you walk in truth,
you do not walk alone.
Donkey.
Elephant.
Right, left, or center.
We The People are the core
Of our nation’s soul and we must defend her.
Radical agendas, violence and hate won’t do
We all must come together, black, white, red, blue; there’s so much more to do.
Solidarity and prosperity lifting all boats on its tide.
Put aside differences and focus on our goal.
We are the people, together we should stand
In the land of liberty
Of, and by, and for
The People
Just WE.
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