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What is My AmericaWhat is my America, what is my USA?
What does it mean to me?
How can you explain, is there a way?
How can I say what is it to be free?
What is America to me?
Freedom, that is the expression
Everything that we were, and all that we will be
It’s the chance to do anything I want
To be able to live and love and be happy
That’s what America is to me.
This is the land where all people are equal
This is the land where all people are free
The place where I can say what I have to say,
Able to choose who I am, and what I want to be.
That’s what America means to me.
Lines Written in Late SpringThere had been a thousand blended notes,
When she had lain in the beautiful grove.
She had been content then, maybe even happy,
Her mind filled only with ease, and peace.
That was then, now was now,
Lady Nature had finally conceded defeat,
The long, raging war was over at last.
Now waged a different fight.
Petals had been it’s jewels,
Trailing from earthen floor to leafy roof
Brilliant pink and delicate blue,
Now all the same mundane brown gray.
Birds once sang in that lovely place,
Trilling the hymns of the seasons,
Spring’s new hope, Summer’s heavy heat,
Autumn’s colored leaves, Winter’s frosty splendor.
New branches had fluttered in the gentle breeze,
Leaves fanning the azure skies. Now,
Bricks and pavement lie in their place.
Heavy, silent, indifferent to those that passed.
“Woe, woe to the departed Lady,” the woman whispered
As she walked down the lonely street. “Natures gone, and with
Her all joy.&
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More