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Mira Lamb Oct 2014
When backpacking, there are certain
rules that everyone knows like
take less than you can carry;
   you’ll pick up things as you go.
Be careful when hitchhiking;
   follow your gut instinct. Always.
Stick to your budget;
   you don’t wanna run dry in Kansas.

What no one actually tells you is:
   Don’t fall in love
      with a town or
      with a boy in a town.

Oops.

A boy who is settled and nestled in a town is dangerous.

The other roaming, free-loving boys are fine, because
   they understand and you understand
   that, like a Lynyrd Skynyrd song, your
   both freebirds who must be traveling on.
These boys are easy to love and set free.

Townies, on the other hand, are like rose-colored poison
which seeps into your every thought,
   but then you don’t really mind.

They show you that their quaint little town
doesn’t just look like magic.

   It is magic.

They show you that there’s something beautiful in
   greeting the mailman with
      “how’s the wife?”
   the charming town diner
      where the pie is county-famous
   the declaration of love on the water tower
      written in red spray paint.

The boy shows you how to fall in love with a town,
and in the town you fall in love with the boy.


They should start printing warning labels on backpacks:
      WARNING: don’t fall in love with a boy
      who is settled and nestled in a pint-sized town


because he will clip you wings.
just wrote today
trying to get back into my writing groove (and I need to flush all the ****** writing out of my system)
(starting with this piece)
Terra Day Apr 2021
Poem: Freebirds
Can you
Can you
Catch me
Vibe along
In tune
In time
With me?!?
The question is rhetorical
The subject
No longer
Is it moot
Put your unwanted
Opinions on mute
Throat grabbing
Verbal chokehold
Like clenched fists
On the clutch
Downshift
Upshift
Time to
Upgrade
Loosen up
You’re too **** uptight
Take a breath
Slow it up
Relax and loosen up
Let that old **** go
Too much wishful thinking
And naïve foolish
Dreaming they keep telling me
But they don’t know
This new me
Throwin judgments
Unbacked
And dumb
Unfounded
Assumptions
With no base
With no realistic
Knowledge
So how they think
They know even
A little bit
What it is
So foolish
For me to do
Now look
What it be
What they do
Who’s complacent now?!?
Not me!!
Must be you!!
Chase now!
It’s on!
I’m on the move
Sone been
Switching
My **** on up
Still they always
Be ta talking
Tryin always
To tell me
What it be
I ought ta do
Keep it movin
On along
That first
Foot out the door
Faded
Flash out
In a haze
Left in a daze
This is real ****
Half them
Shallow ****** *******
They don’t know
What it is
How ta do
Be a real one
Over their head
Don’t got the heart
Ain’t got the nerve
Gutless mouths
Ghost walking
Dumb as rocks
With mouths always
Just runnin
But they can’t
Back that ****
Playin chicken
Hopinp that
The real thing
Ain’t gonna
Come along
And call their Bluff
‘cause all they do
Be
Front
Front
Front
I was down
Crawling cross
Sharp
Painful
*******
Hard to swallow truths
All sharped
And ppJagged
Like bits of glass
Sharded
And pointed
Flesh up
But if you can’t take
Reality’s truths
Sharp as they be
You don’t need ta speak so0
Keep on
Keep on
Moving on
We crawled on
For the sanity
And sanctity
Of our nearly
Exsanguinatedp
Near beat down
Broken bodies
We rose
On a high Eve
One Sunday
Late afternoon
Saviors of
The fallen maimed
Nearly vanquished
Beat down
Hard broke
Population
Of men
Real as they come
Warriors
Home from warring
On our own flesh
Mad minds
Seeking insane truths
From those willing to sit
And sip
Daily on disillusions
And self deception
But we dug 6 feet deep up
Those war fields
In our heads
In our chests
Seeking always
Honor
Justice
Reality
AAunttRuth
We are the real ones
Dug deep in
And healed our own wounds
We won’t drink
The kool aid poison
Of ignorance
And simple
Deplorable excuses
For appalling
Grotesque
Stupid *** ****
Behaviors
of the weak
And brittle minded
Sheep
Choose ta be
Choose ta do
We’re healed
We’re real
We dream
Of popping
The lid off this *****
And flyin the coop
We’re birds
We’ve escaped our death cycle cage
Healed
Our once clipped
And bent wings
Jokes on them stupid 0 sheep
Sipping on their menticide and
In coercive persuasion
Flavored kool aid
Us real ones
Done
Healed you
Repaired you
Those wounds have been long done inflicted
But are Scarred
We observed
And we learned
From your actions
Taught us
What not to be
We won’t seek out
Revenge
For forgiveness
Does truly heal
And liberate
Once wounded souls
It’s the most powerful weapon
We choose to raise
And use
Moving forward
We won’t turn
To repay
Convict
Or condemn you
We
Who are
The real ones
Know truth
We move
And lead
In
By
And with
Love
By example
We Will show you
How it is
You should do
You should choose ta be
We’re rising up
Above all ththat
Low vibrational *******
Forgiveness
And love
Both
Our weapons
And our gifts
The most powerful we can use
We broke free
Popped the lid
Off this *****
And with healed wings stretched
Caught the breeze
Flying free
Escaping our bird cages
So long
Farewell
Giving our best
To those sheep
We fulfilled our dreams
Us real ones
Now free
And that Sunday evening
We rode love’s breeze
And flew that
****** coop
Eternally
Free birds
We will
Always be.

t.day

Megan Sherman Jun 2017
Our hero of the earnest era of Romance,
Doth dream, dwell and dance in divine dalliance,
Commiting Heart to solidarity and alliance,
With the revolutionary atmosphere of France,
Optimism for change doth have him in trance,
A liftime took to perfect philosophic stance,
Meandering aimlessly cross Earth like child,
To apprehend the nature of the freebirds, the wild,
Rancorous, with passion riled,
Of Nature's Beauty most beguiled.

Counting the confederacy of poets as friends,
Towards brighter day they weave and wend,
Humankind's sublime destiny they dare not forfend,
So to revolution they duly lend,
Their timeless and rumbunctious pens,
To show the world through inspiring lens,
They're enamoured of its darkling dens,
Where inspiration from the ether sends,
Visions suffice to be immortalised,
In the poet's pithy cry.

Poet evokes the stirring herd,
Rebelling against tyrant's rule absurd,
Shaking off oppressive law,
Which the righteous mind does abhor,
Revolution befits a troubador,
Enamoured of freedom's wild old tour,
Transcribing her beauty in to lore,
Wsidom older than ancient war,
Wisdom that's the friends of sages,
Wisdom felt, not learned from pages.

Paying heed to impulse, feeling,
The troubador is a devotee of passion kneeling,
Feeling Love through their heart freewheeling,
A feeling which is most appealing,
With their verse they want to spread,
Their passion like a golden spindling thread,
Going soft with gentle treads,
Planting flowers in human heads,
Daisies with Love's light imbued,
Converting sunshine in to useful food.

Emigrating like the flower of the Jacaranda,
The fledgling Shelley lives to bloom and meander,
Defying the tyranny of propaganda,
That doth against the soul deceive and slander,
So towards a bright Eden he takes a gander,
Towards iridescent, bright, immortal hour
Where the mannacles of the mind,
Are crushed by Love, activity refined,
The spread of care duly kills,
The hate bore grim from tyrant's thrills.

The world becomes unite again, and not in the imperial way,
But in the way all souls are friends, and borders die and go away,
The world is a bright, clean canvas,
Ready to take a splash of art,
Coloured bright with the idea of heaven,
Imagined from hungry human hearts,
Lo, the death of illusions fake,
Like wealth, through which the devil spake,
Arise, ye children from your mistake,
Off your ******* like feathers shake.

Peace grows strength in every line,
In which a future free doth shine,
The path of righteousness aligned,
To hitherto deceived and corrupted minds,
In a dream of heaven they duly find,
A fate to which they want to be intertwined,
That of a human herd that wakes,
To be freed and liberated from its mistakes,
To die standing than live on their knees,
To take war to tyrants dictums and decrees.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Free birds aren't meant to be caged
Their freebirds,
They deserveth to fly...
Megan Sherman Oct 2017
A tyrant's sham, illusion most uncouth
Betrays the people of Beauty, rare forsooth
People's wisdom doubted of its truth
When they the gift of Heaven duly hath
Forever incurring petty tyrant's wrath
The mannacles descend, and maim the mind
By devils with pretence they're so refined
They lead the lovers, whilst their own hearts blind
Freebirds sense direction of the wind
Sweet soar! The tyrants languish, left behind.

From immemorial time their lies assailed
Lady freedom, from whence the war cry wailed
See the lawmakers bring justice to her knees
Captive on their island on jaded seas
Too callous and remote to take her pleas
To breathe free air, stunning by degrees
But people will her return, to their shores
Her heart so irresistable to adore
Her triumph sweet foretold in ancient lore
Lo! The victory, the end of war.

— The End —