We Are Not Cattle!
they destroyed the Native Americans,
killed, raped, converted them
to slavery with a sword....
and built freedom on this premise...
on the backs of African-American slaves,
and immigrants that fled oppression....
now the actions of the past
are demanding their price!
and the battle again
will be fierce and harsh!
freedom isnt built on oppression!
they'll be no more herding,
we are not cattle!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Equality... (In A Word)
equality...
in a word,
no more talk of
the 'land of the free'.
you founded this country
over the scattered bones
of 100,000,000 Native Americans.
built this country
on the backs of
African-American slaves,
and poor Scotch-Irish refugees,
who turned your earth,
and built your homes.
'give me your tired, your poor...'
more cheap labor?
to build your cities,
your railroads, work your steel.
how many faceless bodies buried
in your cold dark mines?
how many second class young men
sent off to war?
how many women paid less,
treated as less?
how many farmworker immigrants
paid too little,
treated like trash?
how many slum children
sent off to prison?
how many lives sold off
for bottom line profit?
disembodied jobless,
driven from their homes?
how many minimum wage slaves
praying for food stamps?
how many 'cant afford an education'
futures written in stone?
how many sparrows on the fence?
you want to honor those who've served?
all of these,
the people who have served you!
who have met your needs!
Memorial Day, an epitaph!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Freedom Of The Soul
Am I not supposed to be singing emancipation?
Am I not supposed to be dancing in elation?
Am I not supposed to be jumping in rejuvenation?
How can I sing when my heart is bleeding?
It is not the wounds of yesterday
It is not the wounds of the past
It is the wounds of today
My heart is bleeding
As they sing free at last
As they jump in emancipation
As they sigh a sigh of relief
But my heart is bleeding
For they sing freedom when they are not free
How is freedom freedom if your soul is in bounds?
How is freedom freedom if your spirit is still in chains?
The freedom of the soul is greater than the freedom of the flesh
We have not been freed from the oppression of sin
The inward oppression is worse than the outward oppression
We are oppressed by sin and depressed by its consequences
Unless a man repents from sin he shall remain inbounds!
poem by Philani Zincume
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There is no doubt that Iraqis, like Australians and Americans, love and desire freedom. However, if freedom doesn't mean the right to complete self-determination, unfettered by interests other than one's own, then that freedom is less than worthless - it's oppression.
quote by Amir Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Americans who had traveled in Europe knew the 'free' European peasants suffered considerably greater oppression and misery than did American bondsman. Modern scholarship has shown that the exploitation rate -- the percentage of the worker's production that was taken from him by his owners -- was lower among the slaves than among European peasants, that work loads were light, and that slaves actually experienced a considerable measure of personal freedom.
quote by Forest McDonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Doom Dungeon
From the merciless hands of the rulers to the ruled,
The wind of oppression blow stilly into flesh and bones
So many the minds of plebeians quailed out;
Thus no hope in their faith and amidst many I the orator,
And fears from my eyes like a woman's to fellow plebeians.
In the darkest expires many air in speechless state of mind
But the system is called the freedom of people, by the people and for the people
Yet they keep watch o'er us fierce remote animals in attempt of our freedom,
And I the press given to the freedom of oppression, death and doom.
In speechless will I never expire like fellow plebs,
And not even the zombies will I fear and be speechless.
I speak freedom, equity, fairness against oppression, death and doom;
And unto the dungeon they transited me with their remote machinery
As they could not put out the fire of life in me;
And with their merciless power has dug dungeon for my freedom;
With no one whom I could communicate my thoughts to,
And no one to sympathize with my state of suffering.
But as the day passes, familiar became I with the narrow limit
Which my wandering had been confined,
Alas, bitterly I felt the state of my captivity.
O freedom! O freedom! O freedom! Thou art not as press dreams;
Woe to the hands that dug this doom dungeon.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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What Price
What price peace n' freedom?
How much will we endure?
To keep from losing forever
what others suffered for.
Ask first the loved ones
of warriors who went away.
The price they paid as well.
Fearing death's visit day by day.
Consider then those brave ones.
Who without question stepped forward.
Defied and defeated evil's challenge.
Peace n' freedom their only reward.
What price peace n' freedom?
Does the yield equal the demand?
Are we willing to pay the fare.
To keep oppression from our land?
Let us remember well
when these ideals we abuse.
If we are not prepared to pay.
These treasures we shall lose.
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Deep Level Concern
deep level concern;
our own national parks
used as collateral
on loans from China!
water rights to the Great Lakes,
and other bodies of water here...
sold to China!
our jobs, Joe blue collar working
families.... sold to China!
our oil profiteer wars,
financed by China!
sleeping with the country
with the worst human rights record,
dancing with the devil!
and now, our own police forces
committing acts of violence
and oppression against Americans!
against American people protesting,
standing up for freedom and equality!
standing against the profiteers!
reacting the same way,
and with the same types of oppression,
as China!
our rights,
...our freedom,
......our dignity.
even our rights to work and survive....
sold to....
.....and even worse,
...........sold by!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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From Greece To Rome
we took the Greek ideal of democracy,
and built it on bloodied shores.
wearing the mask of white righteousness,
we destroyed all in our path,
and claimed the land for god and freedom.
we fueled it with African slaves,
bodies sold on the block.
we built the land of equality,
as long as you were male and white,
had money, or owned 'stolen' land!
finally, women took the right to vote,
but we urged them (god's will) ,
to stay home and bear children.
black people were emancipated
to 'colored only' restrooms,
and a seat at the back of the bus!
/to be continued/
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Voting In Egypt
they're voting in Egypt
this morning....
they had all the oppression
they could take...
and they rose up
at the risk of their lives,
and took their country back!
will we have to follow
in their footsteps?
how many will have to die
before we can restore our dignity?
when you have nothing left
to live for....
then the price of your life isnt much!
freedom calls, will we answer?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Australian War Song
Men have said that ye were sleeping—
Hurl, Australians, back the lie;
Whet the swords you have in keeping,
Forward stand to do or die!
Hear ye not, across the ocean,
Echoes of the distant fray,
Sounds of loud and fierce commotion,
Swiftly sweeping on the way?
Hearts have woke from sluggish trances,
Woke to know their native worth;
Freedom with her train advances—
Freedom newly sprung to birth.
Despots start from thrones affrighted—
Tyrants hear the angry tread;
Where the slaves, whose prayers were slighted,
Marching—draw the sword instead.
If the men of other nations
Dash their fetters to the ground;
When the foeman seeks your stations,
Will you willing slaves be found?
You the sons of hero fathers—
Sires that bled at Waterloo!
No! Your indignation gathers—
To your old traditions true;
Should the cannon’s iron rattle
Sound between your harbour doors,
You will rise to wage the battle
In a just and righteous cause.
Patriot fires will scorch Oppression
Should it dare to draw too near;
And the tide of bold Aggression
Must be stayed from coming here.
Look upon familiar places,
Mountain, river, hill and glade;
Look upon those beauteous faces,
Turning up to you for aid.
Think ye, in the time of danger,
When that threatening moment comes—
Will ye let the heartless stranger
Drive your kindred from their homes?
By the prayers which rise above you,
When you face him on the shore,
By the forms of those that love you—
Greet him with the rifle’s roar!
While an arm can wield a sabre,
While you yet can lift a hand,
Strike and teach your hostile neighbour,
This is Freedom’s chosen land.
poem by Henry Kendall
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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
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Human Chronicles (Part Two)
and here in the United States...
the flag of freedom desecrated.
betrayed by our own greed,
by the sins of 'I, Me, Mine'...
carrying the weight of the wars,
the patriotic lies,
the lives taken,
the peoples abused.
the karmic curse
of Native American blood,
the bodies of the slaves,
buried beneath the hanging tree.
the muffled cries of the immigrants
who did our farm work,
and were herded like cattle.
the ghosts of the common workers
pounding the unemployed streets.
too long, too long,
we've closed our eyes.
too long, too long,
we've turned the other way!
and now we've come to this!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am (Defiant)
i am, become...
i am the seat on the bus
Rosa Parks would not leave..
i am the fires of anger
when Martin Luther King was killed.
i am the grassy knoll,
where the true killer stood.
i am the Little Bighorn,
and Crazy Horse weeping...
i am the men that built the bombs,
and all the faceless souls screaming
through their long sleepless nights...
i am the brothers that killed each other
in the long Civil War...
i am the slaves set free,
i am the Native Americans sent
to live in poverty on reservations
in the name of a white god...
i am the farm worker exploited,
the coal miner who died...
i am the rats and the filth
of tenements and trailers...
i am the blues hand picked,
moonshine made in the hills...
i am the grandfather who built
his house with his own hands.
i am the rage of the common,
i am America defiant,
i am, become....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Down to the Ground
Pride goes before a fall
High lofty towers burn to the ground
Symbols of money, oppression
Wealth built on the backs of slaves
I am for the distribution of wealth
For all the nations rising
Lets see health care for all
Lets send all to school and college
I hate the death of the innocent
False religions shall also burn
The earth shall soon be on fire
Everything that should fall, will fall
Look at the angry flag worshippers
Idolaters who put nation above love
Ideologies of amassing power
Propaganda, your country is better
See the priests weep for Babylon
Religious robes hiding the State
Leading the blind into sectarianism
Preaching nationalism as Gods Word
National guards in poor countries
Trained to protect American interests
Love your country or leave it!
They stole it from the Native Americans
American capitalism must end
False ideals so high and mighty
Military power backing corporations
Tar and feather the rich who steal
The rich trample on the poor
They pollute the entire world
Lawyers to back up their greed
Laws bent to protect their wealth
In money we trust burns
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Extension 33
Living at the y, extension 33,
Nothing to care or to worry.
Once I was in love with a blind man,
But my auntie told me, dont do it, its not worth it.
Living at the y, 33 years,
No one to call or to write to.
Once I was in love with a married man,
But my instincts told me, dont tell him, itll kill you.
Im sad I didnt marry the blind man,
But whats a life with three blind children?
Im glad I never told the married man,
It saved my pride and freedom.
Living at the y, in 33 rooms,
Nowhere to visit or write to.
Once I was in love, it nearly killed me,
But now I have my pride and freedom.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emotional Subjection
There is no tyrant quite like feeling.
A bondage that cannot be released.
All we do will forever succumb to it.
Your suffering means that you're human.
Your mind is a warfield.
And your heart is the opposition.
No solution can truly be found.
Forever at war with yourself.
You will obey.
You will cry for it.
You will fall to your knees for it.
You will be numbed by it.
You will be reminded of it.
It cannot be neglected much longer.
Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.
You will obey.
poem by Aaron Lynn
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Universal Freedom Is......
Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.
Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from bondage and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.
Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.
Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.
Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.
Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.
Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.
Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.
Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.
Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.
Freedom to experience a rebirth someday.
Freedom from the body and freedom from the mind
freedom from the ego and freedom from being blind.
Freedom of transcendence being of the spiritual kind.
Universal freedom is eternal and infinite bliss
we should all therefore be able to realise this.
poem by George Krokos
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Cry For Freedom
(m&l - weikath/hansen)
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free on their load
Time has run out for all tyrans in this world
Your slaves are heedin the call
Mankin an end to all this terror and pain
And the end to your lies and your law
Takin away all your gold and your money
cause dead men don´t need it anymore
Much too long we felt the slash of your whips
So now you will feel our sword
Freedom the eternal cry will echo high in the sky
The day will come when all power has been broken
Your blood will flow down to the gates of hell
Satan will wait for your souls
Pray to your God he wont help you hes dead
He wonpt fool our minds and souls... anymore
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever on their load
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free on their load
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born on the 4th of July.
Liberty is their destination.
Born on
The fourth of July 1776.
Liberty is taken
For the pursuit of happiness's, freedom
And declared, constitution.
Those who have chosen liberty
Have freedom, freedom to choose
Never oppression
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
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Come Join The Abolitionists
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye young men bold and strong.
And with a warm and cheerful zeal,
Come help the cause along;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
When Slavery is no more.
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When Slavery is no more.
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye men of riper years,
And save your wives and children dear,
From grief and bitter tears;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
When Slavery is no more,
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When Slavery is no more.
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye dames and maidens fair,
And breathe around us in our path
Affection's hallowed air;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when woman cheers us on,
When woman cheers us on, to conquests not yet won.
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When woman cheers us on.
Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye sons and daughters all
Of this our own America-
Come at the friendly call;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when all shall proudly say,
This, this is Freedom's day-Oppression flee away!
'T is then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When freedom wins the day.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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