Living Freedom Archive » Poetry

Into The Arms Of Life

author — Sat, 25 Nov 2006 16:43:10 +0000

Whosh,

zip,

snap,

the clothes,

my clothes,

our clothes fall to the ground

and only

the seagulls

and the

wave horses

galloping toward us

Wild, wild, wild and free

are there to witness our own

Freeness,

Freedom.

We have the cool breeze of the sea

flowing through us

turning to

Energy,

Life,

Happiness,

Joy.

We,

have the energy of

the

World

And run to, into the arms of

Life.

Letting go of our worries that

Clog up our stream of

Joy.

Before, us

Awake

Free

Girls,

get reimprisoned

in our everyday

Life,

we felt

the Sand beckon

for us to

be held

by her

warm,

motherly

embrace,

to help us remember

Our

experience.

by Angelique, Age 11
Oregon, USA

When We Say Freedom We Are Naked

author — Sat, 11 Nov 2006 17:01:12 +0000

when we say freedom we are children
forming a word out of our desire, our instinct
shaping something we can’t yet embrace, may never
our meaning gathers so many layers and nuances
in time
we are speechless

when we say freedom we are human
what other creature needs the concept, the comfort

when we say freedom we are naked
aware of every prison, literal, emotional, spiritual, physical, mental,
self-created, self-imposed, dictated
we know these tortures intimately
we created them, too
and our genius is that we believe in freedom
in the midst of all this
and fight for it
and die for it
even though we don’t know what it is

by Angela
Gibsons, B.C.

My Freedom

author — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 14:04:48 +0000

I am an artist,
humanitarian, mother,
wife, daughter, neighbor,
grandchild, sister, movie buff, gardener, flower arranger, (and sender) wine enthusiast, friend and confident, fashion seeker,
stranger (hopefully kind and considerate to most,)

aspiring chef, photographer, producer, collaborator, curious mind (who loves discovering new perspectives,via books, the internet, media, other artists, encounters, etc) and ultimately, lover of science, nature and this phenomenal planet.

I can tolerate, initiate, humiliate or perpetuate….
the dignity of another human being, my own………..

I love to discover, invent, improve, and love.

I love to be me, and I am free to be myself—
authentic, difficult sometimes, exhilarating others.

My freedom allows me to write
the story of my life
and be the guide in my own journey.

I can give and take.
I can listen and refuse.
Defend and oppose.

I can argue and sympathize.
Appreciate and condemn.

I can perform or watch.
I can twist and lie or choose to walk in the truth.

I can create and preserve, I can fly.
I can scream out loud,
be reverent, run, play, forget, reject, embrace and I can laugh.
I can advertise, speculate, whisper and dance.
I can speed, and I can go to traffic school or pay the price.

I can choose.

I can do anything that being me entails.

I am free to protect, project, propel, grieve,
memorialize, pray, worship, protest and I am free to speak and/or sing.

I can imagine, deny and change —
myself and the world around me.

I can walk, run, swim
or just be still and breathe
and find the freedom
that lies deep within my soul.

by Chantal Kreviazuk
Toronto, Canada
Singer/Songwriter
www.chantalonline.com

Mercy Is Above Justice

author — Fri, 13 Oct 2006 03:39:20 +0000

From: THRALL

……when obscenely further back, malefic
democracy broken open,
optionally steps through you
disappearing in the dips
and the bourgeois body
pursued to the limits of faded money
wills not
to jump its shark

impressed into the radiation
a single torrential fusion
draw aside panoptic
collapse of time and space
by none
exacted with more rigor

we, who go through the day
as yet unmingled in ceaseless flux
all the dead darkness
skyward…working the vault

others in ersatz, gibbous sanctums
fire inversions of fear gleaming
redemptive glee,
the cauteries……

o, chaosists,
disintegratingly whisper
dieu le veut! god wants it!
to favor vicious prelates

defence itself a
seemingly invulnerable lie
feeding upon entropies
and that labor..
there as here
delightful at death

strip us out
first money,
then time
now intimacy

through effort and cunning
and no other manacle than logic
we think we state the cause,
wandering the halls of any science
as if orgies of naming
shimmy the body
of everyone,
chaotic as an egg
all at sea
snatching

esprit des bagatelles!
coagula!
whose nature it is to be one long want
dartle along the surface of a
frictionless ocean

enring us
not as casuistries’ pulsation
nor as fashions of ruling accidias,
it is this inanity, this tenacious feces
deciding for the world
behind custodies of
small and large sadisms

as if we could……
through the agency
of moral incontinence..

and to then
lay odorless

o, takers-in of the sublime
some call sheer lifelessness,
do not give way,
wild-rice flourishes in slow-flowing streams,
and summer lightning..
matutine..
knowing the cause of beauty in fruit,
or the bliss of melting love,
thoughts have mass..

any of this dogs the XYZist, cacophonies and
boffo intellectual franchisees
can be but
lobby-fodder
exuders of poignant helplessness

will the scapegoatee never triumph or
shame the obliterating bloodier?

even some poets
gently hate the world
blurring the dignities
ipsa manu, ignes fatui
while isomorphic to capitalism-imperialism
does first embrace manifestations of
apish ditsy chichi gauzy glib tacky puerile profundities
even if ungermane……it lifted you
who pluck the word wasp from a lexicon
when the same is untouched by
the sap of a thing in snowy waste

in the stumbling that speaks for me
I say death to vanity,
solipsism’s potency
let the pyrrhic
burning thorn
in deeper
Mercy is above Justice

by Lissa Wolsak
Poet ~ Essayist
Energy Field Therapist
Vancouver, B.C., Canada