Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
My people want freedom
My people want peace
Our leaders are corrupt they do not lead
All man are born free
For us its a myth
We are all leashed
Unshackle us
Set us free
All men are born free and equal, and have certain natural, essential, and unalienable rights; among which may be reckoned the right of enjoying and defending their lives and liberties; that of acquiring, possessing, and protecting property; in fine, that of seeking and obtaining their safety and happiness (UNIVERSAL HUMAN RIGHTS OF MEN  DECLARATION)
Vinnie had the confidence of a roman statue.  His emerald-isle-fiery-red-hair belied a family heritage that had emigrated to The Promised Land from Northern Italy, not Northern Ireland.  What few friends he had called him “Little Red Ferrari” or LRF for his fiery red temper and uber-ancestral pride.  

Tonight’s rain in Freedomville meant wintrymix.  Vinnie had just been 86’d from the German Brauhaus and now LRF was driving his Pontiac Aztec home at wintrymix+.08 speed,  Statue of Liberty proudly gorilla-glued to his dashboard.  

His mind couldn’t quite process the dark wretched masses to be a family out walking the road at this hour in these tempest-tossed conditions.  He pulled over, flashers blinking, lamps high.  The golden door of his Aztec opened, LRF-adrenaline pumping. What were they thinking?

“Sir, we are hungry,” (señor, we are hong-ree), the man said as wintrymix pelted them. The children—smiled?

What are they thinking/doing, in some human way, suddenly felt like nonsense.  These poor huddled people in freezing-wet clothing were here, hong-ree.

Vinnie’s mind saw his own pride in them.  What courage! This man’s people built pyramids!

“Vieni qui,” Vinnie said in Italian pointing to the Aztec hoping it was close enough.  It was close enough.
Flash fiction entry to Plazm Magazine contest, "Opposite of Hate."  Winning the contest is not the point.  As writers, contribution to the higher purpose is our reward.  Participation our Victory.
I can not fight back
I won’t listen when they tell me that
I can do this,  i can rebel, i can reach freedom.
Liberty
Is something i don’t believe in but instead i trust
Obedience
Reading
Is useless, what enlightens the mind is
Instruction
“Long live big brother”
I say, and  I refuse to believe
We don’t need  a leader that controls our perception of information
Conform.
Do not try to  
Rebel.
The population needs to
Trust that
The leader knows what’s right
Its naive to assume
I can fight back
read top to bottom, then bottom to top, opposite messages will be revealed
Arianna Oct 19
I have sailed upon the tossing seas,
And seen the sunsets turned to wine;
I’ve watched the waves lap ravenously,
Those suns down from the blazing sky.

Beneath the brilliant stars on deck,
The ivory-winged sail-birds soaring high overhead,
I’ve anticipated the shadows of mystery worlds
Peering inquiringly over the tides, as a child from her bed.

Day breaks, and I wander foreign shores once more,
But the lustre of Morning gleams wan;
I pass avenues of roses, eerily sure
Of having passed them already countless times before.

Day falls like clockwork,
Night’s indigo blood drips once more
Through the heavens.

                               But Blue is eternal.

Nightfall-Nightbreak,
Daybreak,
Heartbreak...

All are consumed
In the madness of the Sea,
Throwing herself against the rocks
And shattering:

                                         High-tide suicide.

The ivory-winged sail-birds
Hang listless:

                                                   Lost.

                       No sea-breath buoys them upon the air,
                           Nor current bears me here or there.

Not here,
        Not there,
                 Upon the sea ⸺

                                             Not anywhere
                                             Is home to me.

But had I wings
To call my own,
I’d cut those angelbirds free;

And far from earthly seas we would fly,
Darting and dizzy between the planets whirling
Across the Universe
Venturing

Until,
Weary with wandering,

D
           r
                   i
               f
                         t
                                  Motionless:

                 ­                           Paper cranes

                                    In death dream

                                                         ­ Vertigo.
Lynnia Oct 3
It was our fathers’ independence
Not quite passed down to their descendants
These “We The People” days were through
Long before our world came to
And now we breathe and bleed our rights
Always ready for a fight
People screaming through the streets
Bullets from a single tweet
The American Dream so lovingly kept
Drowned in Liberty’s tears as she softly wept
Left and Right at constant war
Raging, always craving more
We tear at all the different ones;
Turn our faces from the Son
If this is what it means to be free,
say goodbye to Liberty.
I’d conjure Fall leaves to follow you
Bright hues, radiant in gold and plum
And they’ll speak of what magic I’ve done
I’d seem like a great wizard tis is true
But such magic would barely compare at all
To your gaze which causes my chest to fall
From Helios heights where frost doesn’t thaw
Where **** and love’s leaflets languish like law
Where passion’s ruthless river is rushing raw
From this endangered emotive environment I fall
And naturally I then tumble from my studied reason
But luckily Fall is my favorite season
Finally the first day of Fall!
Choderlos Aug 20
A night in the park
The moon sheltered behind clouds
Shape of hills like things asleep
Birds are scarce in the skies
The world is in a background
It's only you and me tonight

Sing at the top of your voice
Make love to me like never before
We fought the law and won
Live every moment of your life
Like that dream you had is real
There's no stopping you and I

The last of our worries
Began the first of our joys
The shadows of our past
Lights our way to the future
Dance the rain, my dear
For a life of bliss and beauty
Awaits you and I.
Isaac Aug 20
your
mind
is
what
determines
victory
transforming
struggle
into
l­iberty
Written 20 August 2018
LR Thompson Aug 13
Dammed,
The vault of his mind was laid bare
A barren stream with only fossils visible
At the mouth, buried under silt he found unspoken words
That he had left to the undercurrents of political correctness:
"You do not own my mind
It is mine and mine alone
And with it I shatter
Your rules and ties that bind"

As if in response to the unearthing
The dam began to *****
Releasing a tiny rivulet that began to push downstream
Splitting into two distinct eyes that have for too long been blind
Where one stretched long and far into the past
While the other ebbed and flowed in the whirlpool of the future
Where endless possibilities competed for dominance
Against any attempt to join the relative calm of memory

The dam shuddered again and the gates flew open
The river of life rushing back to fill the void
Deafening the ears
Which for so long had only heard the carefully curated lines
Repeated and indoctrinated since his birth
It was in this moment of flood that freedom came pouring forth
His eyes were opened
He saw the sight
His ears could hear
His tongue could fight
His raging river returned to him
Liberty in the light
Next page