Freedom

Pure-Freedom  matthew quick

“Now that she had nothing to lose, she was free.”
― Paulo Coelho

There’s no freedom in the city
the cement sucks the force from it
like kryptonite
I feel free in green spaces but am still locked into a programmed day
Janis sang about another word for nothing left to lose
perhaps birds look down from riding the wind
and feel pity for the landbound
true freedom is an ideal
unreachable while we draw breath
the binding, the tethers are in the very things that sustain us .
Only your mind can go freely
above the cement
roam widely
no distant walls, no clipped wings
no rolls of palm slicing wire
can hold it

*artwork by matthew quick*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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