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"To the States"
To the States or any one of them, or any city of the States,
Resist much, obey little,
Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved,
Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city, of this earth, ever
afterward resumes its liberty.
— Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on April 24, 2007 7:53 PM.
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Comments (8)
Ah my favorite author...Oh Captain my captain. Oh wait my favorite author after you. :)
Posted by Kathy Myers | April 24, 2007 11:09 PM
Posted on April 24, 2007 23:09
Garsh and geegolly ma'am...I reckon I just don't know what to say. :-)
Posted by Chastity West | April 25, 2007 9:45 AM
Posted on April 25, 2007 09:45
Here is something that I wrote this morning. Let me know what you think.
Oh Pastor My Lord
Bow down before me and pay reverence
I am the anointed one sent by God to rule
My words come directly from above
They are to be obeyed without thought
Give to me all that you have gathered in your stores
For my desires are great and cannot be quenched
I have chosen you and gathered you together
To do my every whim at the request of God
I sit in my place of authority bloated with the plenty
Brought to me by my brethren’s sweat and blood
I ignore the tears and gnashing of teeth
For my desires outweigh the good of man
How I long for the day when all will be judged
For my reign has been great and the harvest good
My robes are pristine no blemish can be found
I recline in my chambers relishing in my holiness
Oh Pastor My Lord! All my subjects resound
Their eyes hollow and dark, the fire extinguished
Their lives I hold tightly in the palm of my hand
Waiting for the day I will receive my reward
Posted by Mary Alvarado | April 27, 2007 12:22 PM
Posted on April 27, 2007 12:22
Right on, Mary. Just let it all out.
Posted by Chastity West | April 27, 2007 1:03 PM
Posted on April 27, 2007 13:03
Can anybody hear me! He shouted, his lips remaining still.
His ears strained hoping for a response.
Am I dead? He questioned, feeling fear rise up in his throat.
His limbs lay unmoving, wooden at his side.
Is this the end? He thought, his eyes darting back and forth.
There were others sitting cold and silent beside him.
Why are we here? He contemplated, never finding an answer.
With all of his being he tried unsuccessfully to flee.
Who am I? He pondered, his mind conjuring broken memories.
There were many recent years left unaccounted for.
What is this! He screamed, starting to stand unexpectedly.
A pull at his limbs brought him quickly to his feet.
“Amen”, the Pastor said, ending the service
Gently wrapping his puppets he put them back in their box.
Posted by Mary Alvarado | April 27, 2007 2:26 PM
Posted on April 27, 2007 14:26
Hey I just and an idea... we should put Voluntold in Wikipedia since GCC has officially made it a word.
Posted by Kathy Myers | April 27, 2007 9:00 PM
Posted on April 27, 2007 21:00
My my Mary.
Quite the literary genius.
Poetry and truth rolled into one.
Amazing what can be said when you are free!
Posted by Jonathan Myers | April 27, 2007 9:06 PM
Posted on April 27, 2007 21:06
yes mary, your poetry is definately worth reading. i love reading your guy's blogs.
Posted by heather | May 4, 2007 12:52 AM
Posted on May 4, 2007 00:52