Cleaning out a lot of stuff, found thing I had kept, half written
letters I never sent, paper clippings, and an old journal. I began
keeping a journal almost 40 years ago. Mostly prose and poetry. This
particular journal was among the Lost and includes writings from the
70's . It was like opening a time capsule.

There was a poem that I thought fit well with some of the current
discussion here. So thought it would be most appreciated by those who
were involved in these discussions. Thanks for letting me share.


PRISONERS

Freedom, Liberty, Justice for all, Equality.

We parise these words as some would praise the words of God.
Are we indeed the children of freedom?
Or are we prisoners of our own thought?
We think we're free, because we have words written on a piece
of paper.
We've given it an official name, put an official stamp on it
and, as if by magic, we're free and equal.

These thoughts make us prisoners of words.
Words that demand we believe we're free.
Words that demand praise because they declare us all equal. Words of
fantasy that we idolize and protect as if, as if they
were fragile antiques.

That's just what they are; fragile antiques.
One day they will be shattered, and then..
Whose prisoner will we be?


PS, I wrote this not too long before Nixon resigned. I shivered to read
it again, at this particular time.

always the optimist? hahaha

listen, it isnt all that bad, here are other places on the planet i
would want nohing to do with. but hey its cool, i like your phrasings.
very indepth in one way of thinking- thanks for sharing.


doc

Thanks doc