liberty

The Liberty Dreamer

 

Envision freedom as a circle spanning three hundred and sixty degrees

 

And sitting at the circle’s center you are at liberty to swivel and tilt at will

 

Mesmerized by the seemingly limitless opportunities that beckon

 

Within each degree a fountainhead suffused with vocation

 

And you are at liberty to choose among many choices

 

Without incarceration, custody or constraint

 

A path imbued and pregnant with destiny

 

And though you must endure sacrifice to excel

 

Born to love and felicity

 

The only obstacle before you

 

Is to leap without reservation along a path already foreordained with peace and prosperity

 


But

 


Such liberties remain the preserve of kings and queens, lords and noblemen

 

And few among us inherit such glory

 

And you are not among them

 

Your pitiful birthright barely spans a degree of opportunity

 

And you will always peer into the warm from the cold outside

 

A swaddling cast upon a landscape of turgid black-peppered earth

 

A pauper not a prince, an enslaved soil tiller not a king

 

A birthright so pitiful you barely command a grain of sand from deserts sweeping so vast

 

Nor can you imbibe a single drop of water from oceans wet and ebbing

 

Bound by societal chains, suppression, racism and misogyny

 

A destiny hijacked and shackled to invisible nemesis

 

And after endless toil you are overcome by exhaustion and lassitude

 

Your subaltern fate draws ever nearer

 

A sheaf waiting for the sickle

 


But

 

Sudden like a stowaway

 

Escaping from a labyrinth of barricaded opportunity

 

A solitary voice breaches the ramparts of darkness without supplication

 

A message so powerful and pure it radiates outwards across the universe

 

Into hearts that have long ceased to yearn

 

And woebegone souls that have long ceased to dream

 

And awaking from your poverty induced stupor

 

Freedom becomes your final act of rebellion from mental slavery

 

And with the liberty dreamer now awakened within you

 

You possess the key to a circle of opportunity suffused with vocation

 

 

By Peter J. Middlebrook

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Emancipation

Courageous is the man who speaks openly
Of his afflictions, his addictions,
Who is under the 'dark night of the soul',
And can corraberate his admissions
Exposed in gratitude, to understand the path
That led him to his personal hell,
And bring meaning to his suffering
In a way that raises his spirit to higher ground.

 

Through the journey of tracing the scars
Carved upon his soul by his weaknesses,
He procures and acclaims his strength
As the gracious hands of wisdom
Untether the ties that bound his sapience,
And he learns what it means to be free
Whilst donned in the shackles of the flesh
Binding him to an earthly existence.

 

1:26 AM 5/5/2013 ©

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Just a basic poem, nothing special.

When a man falls from the very top of the steps,

Does he climb back up to reap the civil sweat?

Does he think twice and decide that down low he'll go?

The answer can be found, a tight, simple, no.

 

When this poor little ragdoll slips from such great height,

He remains in place for an extensive night.

In limbo, he floats, unaware of his oncoming demise.

The man cannot help but look on with wide eyes.

 

A white light fills every chasm of his sensory perception,

All thoughts vanish from the man and neglect him.

He dies.

The man is dead.

 

A valiant swarm of carriers sweep his remains from this street.

Taken to be judged for the purity of his meat.

Has this man been keen to hold his word?

Or has his past held something, on the other end, absurd?

 

Either choice leads him to either place.

In either place, he is met by either face.

About God and His opposition this trifle is not,

A choice to be made, it's the last one he's Gott.

 

Eyes wide shut with a hammer and knell.

A coffin filled with white, and stories to tell.

Oblivious to the world, and cold to the core,

To up or to low? For this man is no more.

 

His deeds are as follows, and to the word they will be,

or will have been, as we only may later see.

At a young age, he killed a girl.

It was an accident. An honest, accident.

 

At a middle age, he killed a boy.

From that corpse grew a man, tall as can be.

At an old age, he killed a man,

And that man was me.

 

But that man is no more, and now we can see,

I am that man; that man was me.

That man is me, and I was all three.

Yet two are all seen, though not all alone,

 

For company overwatches constantly,

I'll present this, out loud:

 

He who takes the ashes, lights the fire.

Be it in thy Father's name, in times like this, so dire,

Yet let it show that what once shone so brightly is now so dim,

And let us not forget, Him.

 

We thank you for this precious food,

Upon which we may feast.

We thank you for this guiding light,

To dissuade us from the Beast.

 

Amen.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just a basic poem, nothing special...

Little Liar

Folder: 
Poetry

little black liar on your perch so high
see how you lie see how you lie
tax us to death
steal our bread
sell us to your brotherhood
tell us we'll be alright
we'll be alright
you'll make things right

little black Marxist on your perch so high
why do you lie why do you lie
steal another term
let America burn
play your fiddle above the noise
liberty falls into despair
we fall into despair
things are fine you'll be there
little black liar

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ThoughtShock: A Manifesto Chapter 12

Folder: 
ThoughtShock

Chapter Twelve
'What's in your head?'

What's in your head?
Best open your eyes to the carnival before you, a mad circus complete with 'puppets on a string'. Just how much more are you willing to give up? How many more sacrifices will you make before you start feeling any safer in this insane world we are living in? And do you remember nothing of our history? Our past transgressions meant to be a lesson but now obviously forgotten, traded away for ten second stars who sets the trend for the coming weeks.
It comes as no surprise to me that our entire system is starting to collapse in on us, it was buckling for years yet an entire generation decided to bury their head in the sand leaving the mess for someone else to clean up. The same ones who set the dominoes up are the same ones who teach our children that when you get in trouble all you need to know is how to buy your way out of it now. All the kings men, could not kiss enough ass to make this dieing system work.
What's in your head?
While you are distracted, bickering over the small petty issues the world is dieing. I fear a much worse storm is brewing over the horizon however. Like moths to the flame, with our mentality we become brain dead by the flashy lights of popular culture. Hypnotized by the slick fast talking teleprompter reading suit, that sits behind his desk in the news room. Believing without a doubt what this little opinion head is saying. Only moments before going live on the air a buzz ringing in his ear as a mysterious voice instructs him to sway his followers to that view. Puppet masters behind the curtains shape the direction of what is public opinion. Millions upon millions of dumbasses.

It becomes a hard pill to swallow, the vary idea or thought of what I write could cost me my freedom. I have grown accustomed to the fact that being a writer I will offend some people with what I have to say, and some that can be violent when offended. However to be locked up and imprisoned for speaking or possibly even thinking something that goes against popular opinion is sickening and down right disturbing in itself. You call yourself civilized, however a civilized man would not ignore the constitution even if the topic offended them.

Before you think I am slipping into insanity, that I am crazy to think our freedom of speech is safe, you my friend desperately needs to wake up from your dream. Free speech is long dead, Why would we need “free speech zones”? Why are there even laws on the books to detain and fine non violent protesters? Why is it that we cannot even question what the “official” word is without fear of being dragged out of the building, pepper sprayed, or flogged for “stepping out of line”. Like our constitution the vary fabric of what being free means has become nothing more than a relic. Like the great pyramids, it's just a symbol, does not mean anything.

Believe me or not, but your shackles and chains are not made of iron or steel, but rather your labor in the money you so preciously revere. The almighty dollar has become your drug, the substance you crave with a high so powerful you revolve your entire life around it. An object that has no more power than what we decide to give to it. So explain to me again why the dollar sitting in my wallet continues to shrink, not in size but in value?

What's in your head?

“Dead babies in your hands,
your crusade to change other lands.
Remember the sacrifice, we may have to do it twice.”

Dropping bombs in the name of peace. A crusade we are going to lose and corruption like cancer has spread throughout the entire damn system. From the ground up, its infected our sense of logic. What is right? What is wrong? Who the hell knows anymore and I can actually see the smiles on the faces of these strange people. Either completely oblivious or genuinely happy about being under the boot of the hungry beast. What just as long as you are not whipped too hard?
Zombies unaware of what real freedom is, and means. Instead you force a law onto another for something you disapprove of or find offensive. You are free to live, just as long as you live how they want you to live. Free to choose, just as long as it's a choice they give. Then you get scared, forget for a moment that life is a lot like running blind with scissors, and that we all will eventually die. So you begged and begged for protection and security. Tell me how did that work out for you?
Everything is fine, just as long as you spend that sacred dollar, work and cash that paycheck. I must ask, have you ever stopped long enough to realize that in this moment through all the distractions. There is a method to the madness, it shadows all the stupidity. That in this illusion we perceive to be real is not, and the reality of the moment is by far stranger and much more complex. So chaotic that our brains can only comprehend a fraction of the picture.
We strive so hard for perfection, when it is all around us. Our minds rot from a cocktail of mundane routines that have us trapped in a broken loop. If only to see this world in new eyes again. To witness it as if it were the first time. In the vacuum of space hangs a tiny blue planet. Lush with all kinds of life, and if that is not a miracle I truly do not know what one would be.

So once again I must ask, What's in your head?

“Left for Dead”

Everyone travels this open road,
driven by things we are told.
Can you hear my voice miles away?
In your head, you listen anyway.

“Had you found your courage, in the face of danger?
Never gave in, stood toe to toe against your fear?
Can you find your heart, when you face the world alone?
While staring into the abyss,
trying to make sense of all this.”

illusion that offers no promise,
standing at the edge seeking forgiveness.
Living in such a cruel and brutal existence,
and everyday you bare witness.

I thought I had seen it all, until I saw that angel fall.

Left for dead, left to rot
No use struggling when the system has been bought
remember this moment, the coward who ran
sold your soul in one great scam

Lets blame everything on another,
closing your eyes to beat your brother.
Stabbing god in the back, you would sell your own mother.
Misery shadows your every step
as you make yet another regret.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'd like to introduce Chapter 12 of my book "ThoughtShock: A Manifesto" As my mission continues to try and wake up as many dumbasses as possible! :D

Your thoughts?

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In the wake of suicide

Folder: 
Poetry

The day America died, her children fell on their swords, the loss they could not bare, the slow, suffocating death of mother; the death that came not from a foreign enemy, or rival power, but from neglect from her own offspring. Those who turned on the liberty and freedom she'd nurtured them with from birth; those who no longer cared left her to die from the cancer they'd elected.

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indirect direction

i stand

i stand tall enough to not bow far enough to give up on fighting for me

i was chained

i was bound by the mentalities forced upon me, by the atrocities that have been tearing their way from my gut for too long, by the silence and indifference that created a forcefield around me from which i was beaten for trying to be free of

i waited

i waited for a a savior who did not come but who always has and will reside within me, for a freedom that for too long i have envied, for an equality that should equal all ideas of free

centuries and decades passed me by and though i walk with no chains, have the opportunity to prove myself if i follow the teachings and conform, and speak similarly as eloquent if not more than most: my path still reminds all of the concept this country was built to allow....FREEDOM FOR ALL PEOPLE

I am the child of the slave

screaming out in their absence while unknowingly standing over their grave

set me free! i am indignant yet brave

because if i don't behave,

even this far away, my life can also be shaved.....

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This piece was written in response to the documented history of the statue of liberty and a photograph that reminds me that there were several casts and models made before the US accepted the one that stands today. The earlier casts were of undeniably african women, but was buffered to look egyptian in order to be accepted and not seen as the taunt that it was originally intended as. It caused me to reflect on the plight of my people, who were slaves at the time and have been fighting for a freedom that this country was supposedly built upon using them as laborers while in bondage. How can we ask as americans for a freedom that we refused our own inhabitants in one way or another until this day? i am just saying... do i believe i am held down by 'the man'? no, nothing holds me, but i am the exception....

ThoughtShock: A Manifesto Chapter 9

Folder: 
ThoughtShock

Chapter Nine
'America Lost'

“Can you remember a time when there was peace,
Walking through the grassy meadow.
Everything calm, feeling the gentle breeze
Time seems to evaporate, These memories will grow.”

..........Wake up;

You are living within a dream. The flashy and fancy lights dangle and sparkle before your eyes. Distracting you, while they brand you and your children like you were nothing more than cattle. Sleep for now your child is saddled with tens of thousands of dollars in debt, and this, this is all our fault.

You may not have pulled the trigger to the bailouts, or lost billions of dollars or even toppled the dominoes on the many bubbles in the economy. However it was our responsibility to keep the powers that be, at bay. Our job was to elect officials into office who know and understand the limits of what “government” should and should not do. We have allowed wolves to sneak in with the blind and ignorant. Feeding them lies like sugar. Brainwashing their common sense into utter insanity.
We have lied to ourselves for years, living in a constant state of ignorance, that everything was fine or would be taken care of. Only our bliss is eroding and fast. Leaving us to witness the cruelty of our own device, the monster we created. The harsh reality that we are prisoners in our own castle. With the freedom to chose what they allow us to chose.

In this life, the end result will be one of two things, a free society. One that was founded on the principle of individual rights. The other I hate to even think about, a complete totalitarian society complete with our own black bag men. For this universe, this reality is based off of polar opposites. There is no middle ground when it comes to liberty. When this entire song and dance is finally played out, we will see either freedom or bondage in this once great nation.

Anyone with half a mind can see the writing on the wall, the pattern before their eyes. The pieces so clearly visible. Our constitution is shreds of it's former glory, only whispers of promises to protect your rights now as they still cast the illusion that your rights are protected, when they are now only safe guarded by their word. After all they would not lie, would they? Do not be mistaken, The executive branch now holds the powers of a dictator, a revolving door of rotating power heads.

Lost is the reason to the madness, that terror lurks around every corner. Trust is bartered for greed, as neighbors are urged to spy and obtain if any reward money. Kid's lemonade stands being shut down by force with threats of punishment. Fine or arrested for milking your own cow, and selling it to friends or family. Raids on organic farms where sanity is flipped on its back. It does not stop there, if you dare speak out against such “activities” or dare “question” you are put on a watch list, for simply speaking your mind, and don't you dare make someone feel threatened, The hate speech will suck a few dollars from your pocket.
Guilty until proven innocent, in a civilized society as you walk through the magnetic scanner. Even your children could be the devil in disguise, so they too need to be screened and patted down.
Watch carefully those words that escape your lips, or those painted to that sign. Tread softly for now those words can be a crime. Dare not say the wrong thing in front of a secret service member.
Only a true dictator, king or tyrant would believe they have the right, or the moral justification to assassinate another living being. You call yourself civilized. No man, no mob or posse has the right to be a person's judge, jury, and executioner. As the mob and posse have already been swayed and only want blood. Assassinations, a cowards weapon of choice to resolve an issue.

“Give me a twenty one gun salute
down the hatch with Turkey, crown, and absolute
Russian roulette the rider behind the wheel
a suicide dash, for every colored pill”

For just a moment, step outside your reality
expand your mind as it becomes your key
For just a moment, step outside of your box
close your eyes, for your soul is the paradox
take a breath, and claim the moment.

Perception is the reality we all see,
as deception slowly strips away our morality
There is no math, no science
that could explain our conscious.

With one foot already in our grave,
we proudly march on towards that dark day
It will be the crash heard around the world.
A crash to test our true worth.
We have broke the code to life,
cured disease by surgical knife
and yet we still fail to understand ourselves.

“When will the insanity end?
Everyday its growing harder to pretend”

I see a world turned upside down,
I see a society worshiping a golden crown.
Yet it puzzles me still,
how blindly they are willing to just kill.

“Pain becomes a tidal wave, smashing against the rocks”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Chapter Nine of ThoughtShock: A Manifesto,
It's hard to describe where my muse came from on this one, I know a lot of emotion behind this is anger which was easy to find tonight due to some hard headed bosses. I would like to add I did enjoy writting this one, and touched on MANY topics I've written about before but also on some I havent.

leave, left, live

Left in hate, I argue about love, and what is the frustration about when the cause outreaches the existence of liberty and when the argument lives in hate.