Is it worthy of forgiveness if you're mistaken about the expression:
". . . that government of the people, for the people, and by the people, should not perish from the Earth"
believing it was spoken by one of the "Founders"?
When Abraham Lincoln was faced with the threat of "Secession - when a number of the "Southern States" decided to "... dissolve the bonds" that made America a single nation to become a nation unto themselves, this most-basic-understanding of what it means to be "A People" - One Nation was in jeopardy and in many respects, it appears we have not yet successfully resolved the troubles this question posed!
What does it mean to be a citizen then and what does it mean to be free. What is "Liberty" in our understanding and practice and what color does your skin have to be to be considered even human because, these are the questions, I submit, that hang before us still - the questions that will determine whether or not we can continue to exist as a single nation.
. . .
_
Gold plated is Kilmt's'Der Kuss'*
with Gustav rated an artistic 'plus'
in the style Vienna Secession
a vauableb painting so full of passion
Not trying to be analytical
Caught up by all the political
Being so suspected misdirected
Calling it out on a limb,
saw down the tree falling
The water acronym aquatic prophetic
Sitting on high places
Looking down onto the ground humanities graces
Now I'm susceptible,
To be misdirectional
I come to yet still confused
I'm uploaded like EI recluse
I stand alone in the skies embraced
Disgrace physically but spiritually I arise analytical
So in the secession, I feel the recession
Been disrespected, yet I am reflected
I am a mirror shining bright lemonade flavor I am the light
Everything's falling in the place
I've been embraced by the grace
Setting up high in the sky
Looking down at the able
Sitting across from the Creator at His table
Humanity yet Miss crowded and appointed asking those questions why
We reign as we rain down energy I am as I am soar fly
1/23/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2024
Aaah my love let your lacey
Lingerie Linger lastly slipping
Below your womanly waist with
Wanting me to erase your
Longing gaze. I love that look!
Like lips let laughter loose as I
Consume you choose to be in
My ecstasy. How can I refuse
This erotic space! Right next to
Me. I see your face. Baby your
Electricity is more than what
You say. You're bad Mrs. Me.
Sweetheart baby! You've been
Had, I have you where I want
You. Here Everlast.
Let your breath go submit to
Me yeah baby! This chase is
Erasing spaces between you
And me to much fevor to
Believe. I love this maddening
Trip especially when you
Scream! More exciting so
Inviting. Secession stop me
Please Dolly! Holler loudly
Why try to cry, it only turns to
Pleasure excellently contrive
My need! No strain or pain.
Lay back and know I'm always
Here waiting for the ecstasy
Flow. Yeaaah I know I know
I know I know DELILAH!!
Baby Dolly please! Dolly!!
sponsored
by the avant gsrde
a secession
"What is life but a secession of preludes to unwritten words"
Quote..." Constance La France "
Memories contain my mind's candlelight
as death will come like a setting sun
My life's final breath becomes a long night
In its dim-lit shades, I'll find what was right
the years I know have already begun
Memories contain my mind's candlelight
All that is left are the poems I will write
that show a life lived I could not outrun
My life's final breath becomes a long night
My days and nights turn before they take flight
with my written words of passion undone
My memories contain my mind's candlelight
When I die they'll find poems to recite
even if they are read-only for fun
My life's final breath becomes a long night
To those I love, I will leave my requite
as I've shared my years, life's circle has spun
Memories contain my mind's candlelight
My life's final breath becomes a long night
11/15/22
contest Writing Challenge...V-forms
Quote # 3 Writing
sponsor Constance La France
Though perspicuous from your tongue, your inurbane words flatter no one.
With their capricious nature you can't see how they alienate your heart from your mind,
yet your transitory thoughts still gravitate toward malignant ideas
which dissipate in rapid secession with each scapegoat that you find.
08/31/16
Lonely lyricist lyrics long lasting in lobe.
Pondering while prone. Poor poets prose probe.
Interrupting inception, interactions inflection,
slumber's conception. Somnolence secession.
Many mornings mulling. Careworn. No capableness culling.
Designs dejected day. Dragging dim, dexterity dulling.
Greatest gift grievously giving great grief.
There are those thoughts that rob like a thief.
Writing words woefully. Waxing, waning wit.
Rhyming rhymes ruefully. Alliteration reluctantly writ.
-Angel Fatale-
Texans want to break away
From being part of U.S.A.
Big enough to stand alone,
They want a country of their own.
Petitions got a lot of names
Supporting these secession claims;
People hoping to secede
Need White House blessings to succeed.
Instead, they got a rousing No!
It seems they have no right to go,
For back in 1869,
The Court called Texas out of line.
They’ve wanted out for many years;
But still, our Union perseveres.
Why, even when they sent us Bush,
We didn’t think they’d earned a push.
Come on now, Texas, just play nice.
Nothing’s perfect – my advice
Is suck it up and let it rest –
Your destiny is manifest!
Obsequies final taste; within this secession from a lamentatives covenant....
I took this pomegranate tree and I crushed it to, make myself a natives chalice of wine
Still, it remained bitter upon my tongue so, I spit it into the turning paean sea!?
************************************************************************
....“Terrestrial Journals” *
Sunday again listening to the blues;
Getting my share;
Church is in secession;
And to its intentions;
I really couldn’t say;
Things are different every day;
And how much should I care;
That depends on the dues.
More than half are ghost;
And through my ears I play as host.
They’re fingers popping;
With senses hopping;
They dance to the midnight stroll;
Double talking rhymes;
Sixteenth times;
And where am I going I never know.
The process of dealing with Sarah Pain; without the “L”
without the love;
cold hearted, winking witch
smiles at the faithful’s attempts to see up her skirt,
fantasies about her warm Alaskan bungalow
while the reality of those oil money backers,
the secession movement,
wild, natural environment
being ruined by
unnatural exploitive, racism, avarice
she parts her lips, drinks in the power,
an addict with an hourglass frame
abuses what she has, to punish her family
not to mention her competition
in the warm spring rains before 2012
her campaign takes root, sprouts
and replicates
virus upon virus
until
all that is decent
is dust.