Im sure you really don't want to know who I am
But if you did then you might take the time to truly absorb the words that have been written, otherwise it probably is one of those things that has become a waste of time; really I should have been doing something else.....but that might be the case for most things.
There is nothing more true about me than being able to love those that simply should be loved. John Lennon just might have been on to something......but i guess that guy who shot him, didnt want to listen to hime either. Maybe just like the guy who didnt like JFK, or MLK.......
There is nothing more true about me than being able to love those that simply should be loved. John Lennon just might have been on to something......but i guess that guy who shot him, didnt want to listen to hime either. Maybe just like the guy who didnt like JFK, or MLK.......
Don't you know
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Don't you know
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
wasting time in the unemployment lines
sitting around waiting for a promotion
Don't you know
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Poor people going to rise up
And get their share
Poor people gonna rise up and take whats theirs
Don't you know
you better run run run...
Oh I said you better
Run run run...
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
Talking about a revolution
While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
wasting time in the unemployment lines
sitting around waiting for a promotion
Don't you know
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Don't you know
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
wasting time in the unemployment lines
sitting around waiting for a promotion
Don't you know
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Poor people going to rise up
And get their share
Poor people gonna rise up and take whats theirs
Don't you know
you better run run run...
Oh I said you better
Run run run...
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
Talking about a revolution
While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
wasting time in the unemployment lines
sitting around waiting for a promotion
Don't you know
They're talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' about a revolution
Talkin' about a revolution.......
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
I don't think there was ever anything wrong with what they were trying to say. But they are ones who tried to break the chains in which we have become our own puppets with....
Sometimes I think if I could do enough good things, everything might just be ok, who know's if that will ever be the case. But I love those with a passion; I hate those even more, not that I think I really hate anyone that much, but if your going to do something you might as well make it worth while.
I'm a giver not a taker; I dislike those who always take. I'm a lover not a fighter; I dislike those that fight when there is nothing to fight about. I'm a writer; I hope to find what it is the world is trying to teach me through words. I'm educated; I pride myself in learning new things everyday. Im a business woman, I enjoy the connections that money can bring; the comforts that investing can create, but money never brings hapiness; by the end of the day I just hope that I have done enough good things with it, that it makes a difference for someone.
Needless to say I enjoy the finer things in life. Say a cigar and a nicely aged bottle of wine, or a fine imported beer.
Im a kid at heart; therefor my video game collection is probably the collection I am most proud of; the thing I would take if I had to be abolished to a deserted islan, along with my Megan of course.
I love Megan more than life itself.....after loosing the one person I loved the most; loosing another that stole my heart away, she has allowed me to trust, allowed me to grow; know that everyone is not there to take everything that I care deeply about away from me, because they are too selfish to think about doing anything else.
I enjoy meditation; Yoga. I enjoy reading an amazing book with a glass of wine; I only appreciate intelligence.
So theres something whether you wanted to know or not, what you do with it now is up to you.
Sometimes I think if I could do enough good things, everything might just be ok, who know's if that will ever be the case. But I love those with a passion; I hate those even more, not that I think I really hate anyone that much, but if your going to do something you might as well make it worth while.
I'm a giver not a taker; I dislike those who always take. I'm a lover not a fighter; I dislike those that fight when there is nothing to fight about. I'm a writer; I hope to find what it is the world is trying to teach me through words. I'm educated; I pride myself in learning new things everyday. Im a business woman, I enjoy the connections that money can bring; the comforts that investing can create, but money never brings hapiness; by the end of the day I just hope that I have done enough good things with it, that it makes a difference for someone.
Needless to say I enjoy the finer things in life. Say a cigar and a nicely aged bottle of wine, or a fine imported beer.
Im a kid at heart; therefor my video game collection is probably the collection I am most proud of; the thing I would take if I had to be abolished to a deserted islan, along with my Megan of course.
I love Megan more than life itself.....after loosing the one person I loved the most; loosing another that stole my heart away, she has allowed me to trust, allowed me to grow; know that everyone is not there to take everything that I care deeply about away from me, because they are too selfish to think about doing anything else.
I enjoy meditation; Yoga. I enjoy reading an amazing book with a glass of wine; I only appreciate intelligence.
So theres something whether you wanted to know or not, what you do with it now is up to you.
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise
And this is the point where I begin to say that my greatest joy at times is learning about the things that have happend before. Although the saying goes that there is no time like the present, I begin to wonder if we can really begin to understand what it is in the now until we know what it is that has brought us here.
As our time in this world is so insignificant to the amount of time it has taken the world to get to this exact point in time; the ever expanding thought that there are so many things that go on that we can not begin to understand. And the mind is blown to the thought that we become an ever shrinking speck within this sphere of a universe.
So, I try to learn; expand my mind. I appreciate the history of the things that are made available; still begin to wonder what it is that goes on everywhere else. There are billions of people in this world; reality is we only know a small fraction of them.
To the eyes that read this, I don't even know you. I don't even realize more than half of the people that actually take the time to read these words as you pass through, sifting through the people that you might begin to let in your life. Take note of the thoughts that might add to your ever expanding; evolving mind.
Maybe something more personal about me, what a time to say that I myself have been down my fair share of gravel roads. That at times I continually fight for what is right, like those previously quoted above. That I try to learn from these, and find my own rising against things that push me down; carry on with lessons that ones died for, for us. We can only try to be as good as we can; hopefully be able to look at ourselves in the mirror.
A goal, if I were to have one, would be that maybe I could make a difference in a place that counts. In the billions of us that exist, only a few have been made known as doing something important, whether it be for the good of man kind, or to our ultimate distruction.
I don't think I am one to have any religous backing to me, although I went to Church as a child for the enjoyment of spending time with my grandmother. Time, that forever will I cherish. But it is a belief that is held by many people; give strength to those that believe. But the thought that I ponder most, is what it is they believe? Although It is no different than believing in the history; teachings that my well used books have given me...But at times I began to believe religion; god is nothing but an imaginary friend. The ones that we used to talk to when we were a small child? But this is the one that has always been accepted well past our days of youth...The only downfall I find, the crutch, is what relegion itself does, what the strong beliefs of people cursed with berriers of distance brings. The changing values and beliefs within the relegion that has created the ever catastrodic wars; arguments. At times, I can only wish that we will find an acceptance, as man destroy's anything that is great, that is beautiful in its own right, we can only hope.
.....Because we compliment each other like that.....
.....and I might just LOVE you like that.....
...You have given me a strength at a time I didn't know I could have. I thinkI love you more than I can consciously comprehend. Something beyond my thinking; I must be comforted in the simply of what is. The comfortablilty. I want you to know this; hold it in a place that you won't forget!
That would be one of the most love cuz.... >The roomie, the savior, the friend forever, I'll just love you like that :love:
:love:And this is the part where i just might say how much certain individuals are to me. As one amazingly smart man said....only to an individual is a soul given, and it is the souls of my family and friends that I adore most. The things that I cherish most, because whether you know it or not, you have helped form me into my own individual, the one that sits here string together thoughts that at some point in time might mean something.
