Curious people who have become accustomed to think that one cannot sustain the moral of the army without giving it the freedom to shed blood from time to time.
quote by Moshe Sharett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Slipping of Meet Notes
Accustomed to lies.
What does the truth really mean?
Accustomed to lies laying low on the scene!
Accustomed to tell them...
And protect when told.
Accustomed to lies,
Whether fresh released or old held on hold!
Accustomed to lies...
Without a bat of an eyelash moving!
Accustomed to lies.
Dishonesty is accepted and shown.
At the work place
Where the slipping of meet notes,
Does not provoke disdain.
Accustomed to lies...
And that's how our lives remain!
In heated sex away from home!
Regardless of who spies on another,
Both buffer their suffering by what's condoned.
Accustomed to lies...
And what is taught is always known!
Accustomed to lies.
Accustomed to holding on to them,
Until time flys!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As a 22-year Army Veteran who served in Operations Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom, and as a Civilian Advisor to the Afghan Army in Operation Enduring Freedom, I understand both the gravity of giving the order, and the challenge of carrying it out.
quote by Allen West
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Their Way To Freedom
their way to freedom is not that easy
and simple, they will tell you about what their histories tell them
blood so much blood was shed
some important people died and they become more important
in time, they were worshipped and made as icons
immortal heroes
where the young must learn what was in their minds by
compulsion
and that is the irony of it all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sands Of Time
From the beginning of this own world,
man has shed a million tears.
Tears for the pain they've had
in their lives and for all the
wasted years.
But the saddest tears that
ever fell, fell not from
just any man's eyes. But
they were shed by my Savior
and they stained The Sands Of Time.
And as the Father looked upon His
Son, He had to turn His face away.
And as Jesus hung upon that cross,
He gave His all for us that day.
And as the tears ran down His face,
as He cried, mixed with the blood
that flowed from His side. Oh what
a sacrifice of love and it stained
The Sands Of Time.
Oh yes it stained The Sands Of Time.
It stained The Sands Of Time.
The blood that was shed for a lost
and dying world, oh yes it stained
The Sands Of Time, of time.
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's human nature to be curious about people, and to be more curious about young people than old people. We want to cheer something on at the same time we want to tear it down. That's just so normal.
What Is Freedom As A Haitian
haiti number one, being a haitian is to known what is number one
as time go by people don't known if we the first be free.
some time people would say form what. in me i known, but do you known,
one thing as reader i would like you to known today what is freedom.
freedom to eat
freedom to make love
freedom to be love
freedom to what to you? ? ?
poem by Ronald Morissaint
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Freedom In Your Marriage?
Is there freedom in your marriage?
Or is there bondage bringing woe
Is there freedom in your marriage?
This is what I'd like to know.
For marriage is two people
Each sharing the others love
Not telling each other how to live
Nor giving each other the shove.
For each is an individual
With free-will to be such;
Giving and receiving in their talents -
However much.
Having freedom to enjoy at times
What each may like to do;
Pleasing each other by attitude
Being happy for each too.
Standing by each other
When outsiders shoot the tongue
No matter what the cost might be
For freedom you're among.
So, is there freedom in your marriage?
I pray there is today,
For only in love's freedom -
Marriage will be for aye!
poem by Richard Merrell
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Chocolate Soul
As the day begins the dreams reveal
The night before was a unconscious feel
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Tears don't necessary lend a hand
The exotic points are about to extend
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Knowing that hi points touch the thighs
Leaving the feeling of passion within your eyes
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving more time to heal
Touching your skin beyond ectasy
Is Breathtaking enough to calm the seas
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Piercing eyes creep through the pane
Embarrassment captures your every saying
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
The feeling of euphoria is beyond wealth
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
Passion and Envy are tied up in self
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Finally the day has end
Remember to touch, feel and speak
Encounters the moments of the soul being weak
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
Once more you catch your breath
The shivers are a response of something else
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
The moral of the story may seem unclear
Come closer to me and never fear
Soothing your body from every end
Chocolate Soul is giving time to heal
poem by Natasha McGee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Last Uhuru! !
Long ago, was it diagnosed
Yet, to prove it took time.
With a single sentence
I was sentenced to freedom.
Freedom from expecting love
When there was only like
Freedom from seeking a life union
While a day long glance was offered
Freedom from giving so much
To receive so little
Freedom from suspense and anxiety
While away ebbed my confidence
Freedom from grabbing the non-existent
When nothing was the existent
Freedom from building on an illusion, well clad
When reality was a truth, stark naked
Freedom to paddle elsewhere my canoe
and fish my catch.
FREEDOM AT LAST! Uhuru! !
03/05/99
poem by Ike Bismarck Oji
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India’s Sixtieth Independence Day
Though sixty years have passed off well,
After India’s independence,
There are places, problems like hell:
Let Indians rethink, be wise hence!
Problems of caste, community,
Sex, water-sharing between states,
Corruption in bureaucracy,
Fights for resources, envy, hates!
Our Father Gandhi got freedom,
After immense struggle, blood-shed,
We realize his work seldom:
Our patriotism seems dead!
Let’s rediscover our values;
Let better sense prevail in us;
Let’s give the world some better news;
Let not our poorer brethren curse!
Our country has done well always;
Our nation has achieved in spheres;
Our democracy has strong base;
Let’s shed our inhibitions, fears!
’Tis time to strengthen our world-ties;
’Tis time to work for global peace;
’Tis time to give up every vice;
’Tis time to fight our greed, disease.
We have a glorious heritage;
We ought to spread love everywhere;
We mustn’t live in a selfish-cage;
Our souls must breathe the freedom’s air!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Army, O, My Army!
My Army, O, my army! The time I dreamed of comes!
I want to see your colours; I want to hear your drums!
I heard them in my boyhood when all men’s hearts seemed cold;
I heard them as a Young Man—and I am growing old!
My army, O, my army! The signs are manifold!
My army, O, my army! My army and my Queen!
I used to sing your battle-songs when I was seventeen!
They came to me from ages, they came from far and near;
They came to me from Paris, they came to me from Here!—
They came when I was marching with the Army of the Rear.
My Queen’s dark eyes were flashing (oh, she was younger then!);
My Queen’s Red Cap was redder than the reddest blood of men!
My Queen marched like an Amazon, with anger manifest—
Her dark hair darkly matted from a knifegash in her breast
(For blood will flow where milk will not—her sisters knew the rest).
My legions ne’er were listed, they had no need to be;
My army ne’er was trained in arms—’twas trained in misery!
It took long years to mould it, but war could never drown
The shuffling of my army’s feet in the hunger-haunted town—
A little child was murdered, and so Tyranny went down.
My army kept no order, my army kept no time;
My army dug no trenches, yet died in dust and slime;
Its troops were fiercely ignorant, as to the manner born;
Its clothes were rags and tatters, or patches worn and torn—
Ah, me! It wore a uniform that I have often worn!
The faces of my army were ghastly as the dead;
My army’s cause was Hunger, my army’s cry was “Bread!”
It called on God and Mary and Christ of Nazareth;
It cried to kings and courtesans that fainted at its breath—
Its women beat their poor, flat breasts where babes had starved to death.
My army! My army—I hear the sound of drums
Above the roar of battles—and, lo! my army comes!
Nor creed of man may stay it—nor war, nor nation’s law—
The pikes go through the firing-lines as pitchforks go through straw—
Like pitchforks through the litter, while empires stand in awe.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is Nothing Here to Keep You
There is nothing here to keep you.
Nothing I do to sustain your interest.
In the beginning it was new.
But now you are familiar.
And accustomed to it too.
There is nothing here to keep you.
There is nothing here to keep you.
And I know that's true!
Since now what is done,
Seems to agitate you before I am through.
And I remember impressing you,
With the little things I use to do.
But there is nothing here to keep you.
Have we spent too many yesterdays together?
Too many Sunsets and far too few dawns.
Have I slept through the process,
Of trying to do my best.
And all you wanted from me,
Was a shoulder to lean on.
And I was unaware...
Thinking of myself with you there but uncaring?
Is that the reason why you would sometimes stare?
There is nothing here to keep you.
Nothing I do to sustain your interest.
In the beginning it was new.
But now you are familiar.
And accustomed to it too.
There is nothing here to keep you.
There is nothing here to keep you.
And I know that's true!
Since now what is done,
Seems to agitate you before I am through.
And I remember impressing you,
With the little things I use to do.
But there is nothing here to keep you.
And even if I could...
You would still think I thought it was all about me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Saga Of Freedom Complete
How is freedom conceived?
How is freedom won?
Freedom
is won
by common
people
with sudden
instantaneous
veneration
sacred sacrifice
uncommon
courage
uncommon
passion
hero lineage.
What is the nature of moments of heroic conception?
How is freedom born?
Freedom costs
paid for in birth blood
courage labour fear
a confusing scary tale
a violent revolution time
for many caught within
conflict situations
surge tragic events.
Freedom is bright hope
dream of a better tomorrow
for ourselves our children.
What is freedom a liberation from?
Freedom is a liberation from greed.
Freedom is putting
the needs of many
before bean counting
profit
privileges
of a few
who can never
amass
enough wealth
or share prosperity
to enrich an entire
community,
city, nation
an entire world.
How can freedom stretch as an ideal to embrace all humanity?
Freedom is birthright stretching liberation.
Freedom
is stretching heart
stretching mind
giving
empowering
ordinary people
so that
they may
help others
and help
themselves
also.
How can freedom from fear anger revenge be attained?
Freedom liberation from emotional overload is attained in Holy Spirit.
Freedom from fear
anger revenge
freedom to hope
to love
to rebuild
to remain true
to self
to all humanity
against all odds
with faith
love of
humanity
raised up
as an ideal
to be aspired to.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I would like to thank the people who encouraged me to draw army cartoons at a time when the gag man's conception of the army was one of mean ole sergeants and jeeps which jump over mountains.
quote by Bill Mauldin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I would rather Freedom
I would rather a much better place,
A place of sanity,
Far away from the phantoms of ghostly shadows,
Far away from the phantasmagoria of knives and death,
Far away for the chocking disgudting stench,
of sweat and feces,
of contaminated air,
of blood,
of diseases and death
I would rather a place of decency,
And that place is freedom,
Oh Freedom! freedom,
Freedom for the scaring stare of my cellmate,
Freedom from the brutal touch of the guard,
Freedom from the hardwork for no pay!
I would rather freedom,
I am going to freedom, To my people,
To make love to my woman,
To give love to my children,
To eat the food that's got some taste,
And bath in clean cold water,
And I will not mock them,
I will let them know my side of the story,
And I hope this time the wheel of justice will not spin in favour of those who have money and land,
Not even those who know the judge,
But justice in truth and FREEDOM!
poem by Olunga Otieno
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whose Freedom?
Freedom, freedom, freedom!
Whose freedom?
My freedom, your freedom, our freedoms;
Like e thousand times of a cry in a land!
Yes, they rule with iron-hand but,
We have to obey always;
A rule with an iron fist but,
We have to be the subjects always;
Whose freedom?
Look around you,
It is full of colours;
My freedom, your freedom, their freedoms!
Freedom, freedom, freedom! ! !
We nedd freedom than these shackles.
Whose freedom?
Free-free-free! Freedom to my people! !
Which people?
My people, your people, our peoples;
Have mercy on them and rule them with care.
We need freedom around us,
Whose freedom?
See the type of governments around you;
The people's freedom with an iron fist!
Tell me if all is well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There are those who believe Black people possess the secret of joy and that it is this that will sustain them through any spiritual or moral or physical devastation.
quote by Alice Walker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tribute Of The Freedom
I lie you for our freedom-
Giving salute to our ancestors
Not to make an ocean of blood
To escape from the cage of the slave-
To sing a song of my motherland-
Who says to you?
The day will not have a dawn
I lie you again for our freedom-
Every youth will sing altogether today
An anthem of the freedom
Put out the coffins of the youths.
Give me back our history
I lie you once more for our freedom.
The voice is rising up to the sky
Death or alive
We the one have give up the souls
It’s the tribute of the freedom.
poem by Kenebo Rajkumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moses The Prophet
Moses
The Prophet
Of Jews
And mine
As well
See
What is going on
In the Holy land
People are fighting
Blood of Man
Is shed
Here and there
Children
Birds
& trees
Are killed
Are killed
And every blood
Is shed
Is shed
Please
Speak to them
This is your land as well
Speak to them
All of them
To stop
Blood shed
To stop
killing children
Say sorry to God
& live in peace
Live In Peace.
poem by Eman Elbadawi
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