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Created on: April 27, 2009
It is what my eyes still believe in.
The purpose of not to ponder, not too much...
To speak of what nobody would so up-tightly comprehend...
To divert elsewhere the truths that have been socially inserted into our minds.
It's the sublime silence, followed by out-loud-spoken dreams
It's the riot... it's whatever you scream
When you drive away from all hypertension lanes
And exit from the so-used- to-pretend motorway
To intentionally fall downhill...
Fall towards freedom
And the freedom feels soft.
Learn more about this author, Andreia Amaral De Sousa.
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Poetry: Freedom
by Tom Mcmurray
I am beggar
I am thief
I am Eve
Buried in belief
I am leader
I am breeder
I am Adam
Narcissistic feeder
I lie inside the doorway
Unable
Those Unopposed
innately nimble thumb sans thimble up
with index OK, it'll be a slow day
for Cricket or crochet
but perfect
A Yearning
Even small as a sparrow
would I be,
if I could fly above the world,
soaring free.
No more than a ripple
would I be,
if
~~ To Fly Away ~~
To fly away and feel free
Only to fly - flying only me
How it would feel -only to love
To fly - soaring like
-In response to "The Life of Olaudah Equiano" an Autobiography-
The ship of slaves
The vessel of the damned
The suffering and
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