Apolitical
let those who refrain
from indulging in politics
thrive on their own
self chosen freedom
to be indifferent
let them thread their
own paths
of political loneliness
let their mouths be finally sealed
let them die
for words not spoken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Freedom is walking
It is spoken man is born equal and free
To a degree the world disagrees
Some foresee what others cannot see
Freedom is walking away with glee
We have a right to Christmas with a tree
We have a right to enjoy a shopping spree
We have a right to travel the land and the sea
We have the right to an educational degree
Stop the silly talking
Whilst Freedom is walking
Freedom is not a jubilee
Freedom is not a guarantee
Who says Freedom is free?
It is spoken man is free of thought
Without the need to fear higher courts
Some have spoken and finally resorted
To hide their thoughts from being reported
We have a right to a chosen culture
We have a right not to be tortured
We have a right to nationality and security
We have a right to be part of a minority
Stop the silly talking
Whilst Freedom is walking
Freedom is not part of community
Freedom is never an informality
Who says Freedom is immunity?
We want opinion without distinction
We want a world without discrimination
We want a kingdom of utter freedom
We want it in all shapes and form
Stop the silly talking
Whilst Freedom is walking
Stop the silly talking
Whilst Freedom is mocking
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Friendship Freedom
Our friendship presented freedom
And Life gave us challenges to defeat
We fought with all our might
In a world that seemed so far away
We finally saw the freedom in each others eyes
We began to laugh in joy
Forgetting all our spoken pride
We began to smile like it might be our last
Finally we lost our freedom
Our words held no source of peace
Just anguish and hurt
We lost our joy in life
Forgetting the freedom that lay in our hearts
No longer is the freedom presented
Because we live emotionless
Till we find our freedom once again.
poem by Kat Augustin
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Politics
in this country of mine
there is so much politicking
they want to know my color
they want me black
pure black
the other side wants me to be white
unadulterated white
i tell them i want to have no color at all
i just want to be myself
like a neutral transparent rain water
and all of them are angry
i cannot please everybody i said
but they do not listen
they put politics in the pulpit
in the market even in the cemetery
they put politics in the air and in the water
and in the soil
and even in the sub-soil
the worms are getting political too
and even the hawks and finches
the pebbles have no choice
but to go political too
they are now in disagreement with the river
and the bamboo trees
there is chaos in the mountain
the waterfalls rage
and then politics eventually destroys the
ecosystem
and the heavens and the purgatory
now there is only hell.
this morning they put politics as breakfast on my table.
i decided finally not to eat any.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fathom
Fathom the earth without sorrow
Would the heart of the traveler show gain
To not lessen from dirt that was fashioned
From the bowels of the earth without pain?
Surely the mantle of sorrow spoken of in lifes refrain
Must be formed by the paths that we travel
Our choices net us our gain
Strength of character boldly is a treasure worth seeking to find
All that life has to offer
Choose paths that seek honors' refrain.
(1996 Salt Lake City)
poem by James Smallwood
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Children of Our Age
We are children of our age,
it's a political age.
All day long, all through the night,
all affairs--yours, ours, theirs--
are political affairs.
Whether you like it or not,
your genes have a political past,
your skin, a political cast,
your eyes, a political slant.
Whatever you say reverberates,
whatever you don't say speaks for itself.
So either way you're talking politics.
Even when you take to the woods,
you're taking political steps
on political grounds.
Apolitical poems are also political,
and above us shines a moon
no longer purely lunar.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
And though it troubles the digestion
it's a question, as always, of politics.
To acquire a political meaning
you don't even have to be human.
Raw material will do,
or protein feed, or crude oil,
or a conference table whose shape
was quarreled over for months;
Should we arbitrate life and death
at a round table or a square one?
Meanwhile, people perished,
animals died,
houses burned,
and the fields ran wild
just as in times immemorial
and less political.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lip Service
Words inspire and words destroy
Words conspire and words annoy
Words spread freedom and words detain
Words believe them in sound refrain
Words of passion in words misleading
Words without action are words without meaning
poem by P.R. Prosper
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The Lonely Bird and I
my little bird
is still in its cage
for years
i never hear it tweet
a happy song
i know it has kept
that song for years
but i never ask
it to sing it for me
i like to set it free
but it has learned
to love its solitude
in the cage
birds from the fields
on early mornings
seduce it to come out
and fly with them
but it is loyal to my
company
i have not asked it
about any desire for
freedom
sometimes i tell it
something about the
blue sky and the
fresh wind
and the beauty of some
far places
that i have been
to
there were many times
when i left it alone
and when i come back
it does not say anything
about loneliness
at all
when i think that it must
be dead
it stretches its wings
rebutting my theory
that it is possibly
a dead resurrected
for indeed it is alive
and in loneliness
have learned to thrive
it taunts me sometimes
that we have so many things
in common
but it kept things the
way they should be
always in secrecy
always with self-respect
about our own self-inflicted
choices
about our honest acceptance
of who we are
and of what have we become
you ask me about loneliness
and i have all the answers
but try asking my bird about it
it still remains in its chosen
field of
dignified silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mr Political Man
He will show his good side
With a friendly hand shake
He will talk around problems
And tell you what's at stake
Mr Political Man
You'll never see his bad side
Well dressed and ready to go
The way he stands and speaks
Is just a part of his show
Mr Political Man
His words are carefully spoken
And promises he quickly makes
The trick is too win with words
But many promises he breaks
Mr Political Man
poem by Suelynn Walters
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Rise Of The Enchanted
Enchanted words, and enchanted saying, enchanted words that has no meaning. Enchanted words that goes afar, enchanted saying that brings you to the stars. Rise of the enchanting is beautiful as my Lord, for it is as seeing into a woman's eyes, and love at first sight, everything is now on one accord. This is the freedom men as spoken of the freedom to be, enchanted with the mind for all to see. For as others have tried many have surpassed, the diverse mind that comes with many tests. What is the enchantment of which you so humbly speak, for it is freedom, the freedom of the meek. For I am enchanted but holding back I shall, until I show my true feelings for one I can appeal. I am enchanting and I am free, but not free to be, as tough it is my ecstasy, but I have the freedom, because freedom is free, but not enchanted I may not be, for to be free I have to be enchanted, because to be enchanted is to be free. May I be enchanted grant me thee, shall I be enchanted, shall I be free, for this is my rise, this is my plea, this is my enchantment I always wanted to see, the enchantment within me, my rise of enchanting, the enchantment for all to agree, because finally I am free.
poem by Augustus Gatlin
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Loneliness Like a Prison
Loneliness is like a prison
With invisible walls to bar
One from the freedom of seeing
And being with anybody,
So dear to one that one can't bear
The thought of being by one’s self,
Denied from having acquaintance
To be with others to share joy
Full of laughter to fill the air.
What one feels now is the anguish
Like the hell of grave damnation
That chokes one that one must get out.
Out of this hopeless loneliness
Like prison and seek out freedom
To happiness with strong will that
Attracts the company one needs.
It is this freedom one hungers,
Freedom to leave from loneliness.
Freedom to begin a new life
One can have with a peace of mind.
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
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Loneliness
Roy orbison/joe melson
Loneliness is the worst thing in the world
To be alone all the day long
No ring on the phone, yeah this is wrong
Low down loneliness
This loneliness, I must confess
Yes its a mess of this loneliness
Low down loneliness, loneliness all around
Loneliness, you have found me loneliness
Oh loneliness, all of the time
Such loneliness, youre so unkind
Low down loneliness
Loneliness everywhere
Loneliness, Ive got more that my share
Oh loneliness, my destiny
Yeah loneliness, was I born to be
In low down loneliness? loneliness
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song of Freedom - A Prayer Reflection on Mee Kamocha
When did we leave Egypt
And when did Egypt leave us?
When were the chains of slavery broken
And when did we finally truly feel free?
Freedom came in steps
It was part of the journey
From Egypt to Canaan
Our people took
And we can still take.
Freedom is courage and hope and clear vision
Freedom is walking to places we can’t see
Freedom in knowing that we can find food in the desert
Freedom is feeling safe though our houses are booths.
Freedom is choosing good rules to live by
And freedom is singing our very own song.
So with Moses and Miriam and all those who went with them
With all those before us who brought us to today
We still sing these words, our first words of freedom
'Freedom is having no sovereign but God.”
10/12/2003
poem by Lewis Eron
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352
sad indeed,
there are other freedoms
still
freedom from having no ideas, from this dryness,
freedom from having you
as a poet on forced wit and half-cooked cleverness
freedom from a reader
who has nothing to offer
except his own loneliness
his having nothing to do
freedom from beng bored
to death
freedom from having nothing
to say and comment
freedom from this feeling of emptiness
this bigotry
this indigestion of dumb thoughts
freedom
from impertinence, immateriality, irrelevance,
freedom from thinking about freedom
freedom from freedom itself
there are more
freedom from pain
is useless now
that you are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And What About Freedom?
sad indeed,
there are other freedoms still
freedom from having no ideas, from this dryness,
freedom from having you
as a poet on forced wit and half-cooked cleverness
freedom from a reader
who has nothing to offer
except his own loneliness
his having nothing to do
freedom from long bored
to death
freedom from having nothing
to say and comment
freedom from this feeling of emptiness
this bigotry
this indigestion of dumb thoughts
freedom from impertinence, immateriality, irrelevance,
freedom from thinking about freedom
freedom from freedom itself
there are more
freedom from pain
is useless now
that you are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Did You Say That Your Only Freedom From Pain Is Death?
sad indeed,
there are other freedoms
still
freedom from having no ideas, from this dryness,
freedom from having you
as a poet on forced wit and half-cooked cleverness
freedom from a reader
who has nothing to offer
except his own loneliness
his having nothing to do
freedom from beng bored
to death
freedom from having nothing
to say and comment
freedom from this feeling of emptiness
this bigotry
this indigestion of dumb thoughts
freedom
from impertinence, immateriality, irrelevance,
freedom from thinking about freedom
freedom from freedom itself
there are more
freedom from pain
is useless now
that you are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Real freedom
Franchise freedom sans political freedom,
Political freedom sans societal freedom,
Societal freedom sans economic freedom.
Economic freedom sans marital freedom,
Marital freedom sans sexual freedom
Is no freedom you grant women.
24.01.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On The Third Day
seven days i will be silent
not that i embrace silence for no reason at all
not for the sanctity of its doorways
and halls
no not at all
seven days i will not talk to you
because i live in the shanties of my madness
because i thrive on the food of my doubts
for love that do not have mouths that speak
for hearts whose doors are shut
in the narrow paths of your shallow minds
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken
Do you know what it's like to be broken
Wish this morning that you had not woken
When all words of love have been spoken
And hopes disappear in the night.
So you know how much silence can wound
A beating heart that fate had harpooned
Laying shipwrecked forever marooned.
And pain reappears at first light.
Yes, broken we hang by a thread
Over memories and new paths to tread
Maybe stars if we look straight ahead
Look behind for the scars where we bled.
And i just need one hand to hold
Not to die in merciless cold.
poem by Kevin East
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Deprivation retard
I order children to silence
As I must be for myself so.
I forbid men indulging in sex
As I have to refrain from it.
08.07.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You Cannot Tell Me!
you cannot tell me
that freedom sees color,
religion, or financial status.
you cannot tell me
that freedom divides
between classes.
you cannot tell me
that freedom is for the few,
and not for the many.
you cannot tell me
that freedom can be bought,
sold, or traded.
you cannot tell me
that freedom can be won
by destroying innocent lives.
you cannot tell me
that freedom invades other countries
for political or economic reasons.
you cannot tell me
that freedom exists without justice.
you cannot tell me
that freedom is out of reach!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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