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We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna watch our freedom fly
We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna live now till we die

My heart beats a little faster
Every mile closer to home
My mind don't need a master
I think just fine on my own
The ocean looks much different now
Such a hopeful sight to see
As freedom bells are ringin' now
'Round Sierra Leone

We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna watch our freedom fly
We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna live now till we die

Well, I left half my pride
In those cotton fields
But I found all my spirit
And strengthened my own will
I made it through the sufferage
Never once alone
I trusted in the Father
And he has led me home

We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna watch our freedom fly
We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna live now till we die
This is a song.
Butch Decatoria Jan 2017
Yo
Fil -Am I am
Tho' that Uncle Sam
Is a pilfering kind of uncle,

I still believe in Love
Of Freedom rides
Of Lady Liberty's symbolic
Light
Burning brightest
A united flame...

Yo! Bro'
There's no need (yet so many do)
Have - nots hafta
Feed
         All Walks
                            Long Roads
Home.

The seeds will sprout
                   Great roots / Evergreen

When we quench every thirst
        With poetic Justice
Logic / Science / Reasoning

Truth.

Yo!
Now, Says we
No Underground or miners' sky of coal
Cuz hearth is home
Where the heart is strong,
(Where resides living souls)

A coat of amor of many hues

Of cotton--chain gang--rainbows
Of our bodies
Electric / this sojourn railroad
We dance
       Deep down getting down
Blues / rhythm/ love on high
Every kind
Spectrums of hot jungles and purest light.
Sun tan and showers
Brought to you by the Maker
Of Sky...

Yo!
Joe, my bro', is not
No ******,
G's / Living Proof
Peeps this
White wigs
My All American is multinational
(A Hero)

Youths
And fountains

A World of many nations
Toward one republic :
Mans Fire and Golden worth
(The future points to moot)

From soot or steep
Great Walls and Mountains'
Sherpa Buddhist peace
Rise from our only Earth
As we bask beneath
with all
The bounties of the Sun

We are Sam / I am you
And we are
One
      together

Here the same
We are
American genomes

As for me, half breed
A Filipino and green
With Irish flame
"O-oh"
No shame in my game.

Yo! Americans
            
Be Thankful / you thinkers in kind

Mankind / Human
Down to the last
Past
Suffering,
Sufferage and Tribunes,
From melting pots
A succotash

What kind of American are you?

___________

*African American
Native American / Indian American-Hindi
Asian American
Irish / Italian American
Spanish speaking Mexican American
Japanese and Chinese American
Korean American
European / Candian / French American
Siberian / Slavic American
Middle Eastern / Arab American
All American Russian / Serian American

A cohabitat of all of us.
(A world of beautiful Mutts)
wordvango  Dec 2017
mon dieu
wordvango Dec 2017
mon dieu
enchante'
madame
gratuits dans mon égocentrisme
seul dans mon sufferage
vous sous la tour
et je me tiens sous
éclat de votre enfant
visage tête chauve et frisson
Styles  Oct 2015
Beloved
Styles Oct 2015
The courage to love,
The sufferage of pain,
Before one can be lost,
The other has to be gained.
The difference is a subtle
As the heart versus brain,
With set aside,
It all hurts the same.
Some never learn there lesson,
Some just ignore the pain.
Some get over it,
Some broken they remain.
Nothing is forever,
Nothing remains the same.
Once you learn that,
Only then can you live again.
Ken Pepiton Sep 5
As a man thinks in his heart, so he is.
Thus the early warning for uninitiateds,

Pomposity, this is not, yawn

hypnopompic (adj.)
"pertaining to the state
  of consciousness when awaking from sleep,"

Accepting the hand stretched toward my spirit,
the idea that is me, in your mind, tenere- root
tension, the push and pull
stretch the minutes into days, yawn
hear,
the rolling of the dough, sticky, folding
butter and sugar and cinnamon in, ah,
coffee, creamed
morning,
in paradaise,
pomp and circumstance, ministers
solemnly stepping up
recommencing the quest, master.

To make a form for spiritual consideration,
of worldly wisdoms and philosophy's guides
granted all with access to the raw data of us,
clear text incontextual time locked eternity,
part one

all we may know, no real secrets lost to time,
all we may know, upon waking in confusion, is

and was known, upto now, but no further, see,

between thoughts comes time, no force felt,
think, what reading really is, is us thinking again,

a gain, a step in the only way time relates
every thing to next, smooth
only on the surface
tension
of our enclosing bubble
of being,
bound
by words we never read, really,

while amused
at the talent
of our acting friends,
where everybody knows your inclusion
in an active Dunbar herd
of potential help,

the one in need, indeed, met

the wedoms, most common groupmind limit,
the size of a military subgroup, hereditary
strategic deployable drilled
to respond
to drum and bugle calls,
now radio, neuro linked,
orders conveyed to science users,
ready made from those so usable,

second string and above, do what you love,
ding, the bell, another round, ding

imagine the power of players taken in,
swallowed whole by an ancient serpent ,

slowly growing from worm to wise will

to oppose untrue why factors, long used
to beautify the imaginable future, if,

eh, Rudyard, who were you watching return
from Balaklava?
Did she force you to see?
Lady Elizabeth Southerden Thompson Butler,
Ai, ai, we totally know, yes,
must be some history in her string of names,

but,
what she projected on to the medium
what she witnessed in her spirit,
she showed us, the after facts,
the faces, the mud, the blood,

weariness and desperation, hope
captain, tell us, that's enough
war for the world to see,
life in color on canvas,
the message is the medium,
in it's pre-acrylic hues from tubes,
the latest advance in painterly tools,
and new colors, brighter, longer lasting

to let the spirit bearing the message,
alive until you stop, and realize,

you may, today, stare all day
at fifty-seven windows into
Lady Elizabeth's
upper crust wisdom,
becoming today's prompt,

To ask, if you do not find it easy,
my assuming you used your will,
voluntarily, to find the art abstraction
taken from the mindshare gone global,

my friends in all the lands enclosed
within the world wide web lattice work,
filtering the light we see through
to objects in mind reminding us,

of awe, the state, aha,
we agree, we sometimes weep
for those who live in foaming lies,

remains of old nursery fixed hates…

Have you gazed a while,
at the messages from Elizabeth?
Have you zoomed in to see
the faces on the nameless,

the glorious-less role call,  no.

I can't not go again, you see, war
and me, we
be adversarials and unreconcilable,
I swore to oppose all oaths to
pomposity, solemn turns first lie
to principal reason, first need met,
Art, making for the sake of making,
in the chaos, see the beauty, we live,
we who use words to capture thoughts,

think, we words, are no longer thoughts,
nay, we know, knowing, science, is
knowledge held as true, even known lies,
and the multitude of uses pride contends
is good to force feed kids, stacking order,
status quo, master and emissary, in one.

As a we form sapience spiritually coherent,
we all must protect,
free thought, raw truth, full function,

breath, modulating noise,
to seem musical.

Whew, hew and cry, scything on…

yes, self analyze,
woe is the skeptic
in America today,

or, no, the other way, today, in doubt's
haying day, sickles at the ready, stone honed,

least labor, follow the leader on the right,
starting from the left, northmost corner,
sweeping south along the terminii line,
proprietary responsibility border line,
work worth
sweat, taken as a feature,
water as a gift,
given by the fortuitous cloud catching
streams of conscious muse using,
refreshings, cool, new media,
cool, new colors, look, Spot,
see the images of all the worlds finest art,
right there on your globally tied in common-
uni-cating we conforming information device.

see close, zoom in, zoomers were born to this,
- old boomers who saw these images
- saw them in CMYK
- on shiny magazine paper,
- the message was not as loud as now.
Peace maker companions,
sharers of the one bread's condiments,
take some pride in pulling down imaginations
making peace, where a clamoring lobstrosity was,

warfare in the spirit, make sense from non-
sensible factors determining will to become,
still, observant, ignoring not knowing,
being left in the story your father's faith told
submission to authority, only obey,
-- line up, dress right, at a glance,
-- proceed standing at attention,
= be the message sent by the Bearskin helm.

will-less, submitted, under the orders
in the message most recently made law,
all those covered under the blood of victims,
in order to save the world, we must be ready
to let it evolve, no sweat,
- death has no sting, no lie,
- duty however is a killer,
- and pride the very worst.
Live
as might your favorite Bible character say,
sufferage is alright, wait and see, right,
you can choose your truth,
do the math,
vote by references to
chirality, right, or sinister,
the spinning difference is awesome
we mesh, fi, my talent, fits you
we become a one mind team
involved in mortal conscious
answers to sworn confusions,

Will to ever learn,
is a feature all spinning things use,
to stay in formation as we scythe through
ongoing knowing life is hard,
knowing is easy, taken slow,
bringing in the sheaves,
golden grain,
once worshipped,
worth the sweat,

laughing when the works all done,
was the winter breads and stewed roots,
all sets and settings we may imagine, on earth,
some sense we all share, every where we connect,

all at once, the world was enclosed, in clouds
of precocious proprietary secret methods,
right way to do things, procedures,

reusable code, rituals, rules and consequences,

object, entity in mind, abstraction, a pinch of now.

This is how all that ever matters must begin
in a literary effort akin to scything sown seed,

in a co-op thought pattern, me,
to you, feedback in the medium we share,

the air we breathe, but more enduring ties,
realizable already imagined known, yes,

the very idea that yes contains, on contact,
I know, be it how first or why, I care less,

yes, carelessly I spill my neuronic guts
distinct chakra reasonings, as factored costs,

go with your gut, but
first, grow ripe past pompous display,
look away, look away, do not open

the source code we think we see,

ah, me, too late.
Lady Elizabeth Southerden Thompson Butler, Roll Call, came to mind, and I knew it can be found, and I hoped to make Kipling's if one notch nearer the mind that witnessed the aftermath of the Crimean aliegances alive today.
Carnage in plucking the youth of the sage tree
and stacking her leaves on the ground
to carry in for the fall, and the tea
the incense she brings.

Carnage thats placed here
is a gentle handshake with the devil
a deal to be made to stay on the level,

A balance of sorts for this world that we live
has chaos ensue if one does not give
and sacrifice is made, in ways or another
and sufferage happens, upon the mother.

So carnage in plucking the youth from the sage tree
Ken Pepiton Aug 14
Gnoshit, reco-gnosis,
makes one imagine I am, no, know I am
one, in the largest ever population of nobodies.

I am as anonymous as privacy needs to be, open source,
casting pearls to pearl eating entities, noticing

taking notice, marking time for recollection,
whiling away on missed perceptions correction duty.
We, the public entity,
did we ever have a republic
without slaves, as a we, did we become
the people who constituted the distribution of power,
to the people,
under authorized sanctified known terms?

On the border between all languages,
the gift of translation, we have
t'reason,
to trusted reasons why we keep war alive,
in season,
the bulls all wanna breed,
the biggest boasters become kings,
let Lyndon tell it, ladies. History records
the incident as sometime after 20 Aug 1968.

While we replay the audio from the show at Khai Vinh,

put the mark anywhere? think wonder the verb, if
ever once it all seemed much like now
the experience, live
at the *******
across the highway.

Not many had the exact same experience,
but the music is all still played in that order,
chance opening a vein unexplored limnal spaces.

Playlists with metadata dendrite meandering mods.

Did you say you once wrote a book a day, by golly,
did you think that you wrote with extreme
prejudice, or did you slide each phrase,
along the edge, to the hilt, each phaze,

phinally spinning luck elucifity, apologize
for lies I left believed, as certainly as turbulence
mastery leaves lads and lassie's breathless,
globally on TV, the most imagined sin,

connecting, carnal knowing with dis connected
what kind of master would forbid knowledge,

start there o man of god, make me believe you know,
while you know I got you at the grand jesuture,
for all to hear, as all believed the lie about us,
let all believe the truth,

Job was right, no immortal knows a mortal's ignorance
of patience's perfecting function, waiting seems sufferage.

Endure until the end, pretend you are attending a judgement.
And notice, the remembering use by the accused to account
for idle words, with penitent acknowledgment, I was beguiled.

That's it, we know, the side the enlightener entertains
contains all the luminaries of our culture's global echo intent
chabad chata hamartia, principle idea, wisdom's dominion,

at the point of first precept, no noise, a twist, to on.

Our signal through tomorrow, prepaid.
Some days, time spent feels undeserved, and time taken in thinking,
seems to stretch to the inner edge of this bubble, where every way is up.
Tyler  Mar 2023
end of the world
Tyler Mar 2023
the sun's phoenix
scorched across the morning sky.
the watchers were at play,
and there were the background fading ,the boundary
of the red burning blue sky.
asteroids like hell fire
rained easing stones
to cease Earth's mighty
pains.

We must renew; this resurrection.
An apocolyptic sufferage
we have in envision
praying to God we are
the false prophets whence we led astray from eternity.

For there she lay in deathly slumber,
wondering what could have been
and what she ought to do !
The survivors were like her savior,
and eased every of mark.
And once the moon's cool light
drove the flames away she thought
she'd blossom again.

— The End —