“The President is merely the most important among a large number of public servants. He should be supported or opposed exactly to the degree which is warranted by his good conduct or bad conduct, his efficiency or inefficiency in rendering loyal, able, and disinterested service to the Nation as a whole. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that there should be full liberty to tell the truth about his acts, and this means that it is exactly necessary to blame him when he does wrong as to praise him when he does right. Any other attitude in an American citizen is both base and servile. To announce that there must be no criticism of the President, or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. Nothing but the truth should be spoken about him or any one else. But it is even more important to tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about him than about any one else.” – Theodore Roosevelt, 26th US President (1858-1919)
I’ve just started to follow Tom, and have read only 2 of his poems so far.
If this one is typical of his talent then I am really going to enjoy his words, and his voice. He has tremendous expression and, I’m sure, he is going to gain a tremendous following.
Listen to “Anatomy of Longing” and then try “Ellipsis”. I’m sure you will love them!
Cutting to the heart of all this longing
is it the vicious tongue you wag at me
or the perpetual mystery hanging from your actions
the contradictions of your possible state of mind
I see the hurt, I feel the pain you carry
and sense your urge to be desired by men
the flirt of all you do rings loudly before you
and against my better judgement
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
With every scar you try to inflict
or accidentally leave on my skin
I drift away for a moment only
then find myself battling the waves
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
I know you didn’t ask for this
I know you didn’t choose me or this adventure
and yet I brought it to you anyway
and you didn’t quite turn me away
And you’re cute, there’s no denying
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This needs no introduction whatsoever, other than to say what a wonderful tribute it is.
Seventy Five Years In The Passing..A D-Day Tribute. Seventy five years in the passing, The 6th of June; brave troops amassing. Nobody knew how countless would pay, For saving our souls that proud D-Day. From hillsides, valleys, towns & moors, They set off, leaving British shores. A rendezvous of military purpose, They called it Piccadilly…
There are still lessons to be learned, as hatred and bigotry are still widespread in all countries. It was reported today that 1 in 10 in the UK do not believe the Holocaust happened. Thank you to Kelly for the reminder.
Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day, and marks the 74th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. I thought it was a fitting time to recount my visit to the Sydney Jewish Museum back in November.
The museum was established in 1992 by the generation of Holocaust Survivors who settled in Australia. This very special place continues to give a voice to the victims of the Holocaust, so their individual and collective stories can spark dialogues and inspire change. As well as preserving and documenting this important historical period, the museum also beautifully illustrates the richness of Jewish life in Australian society. The ground floor displays teach many aspects of Jewish faith and traditions. This Gentile found it fascinating.
The Holocaust exhibition stretches across three levels of the building, and details the persecution and murder of European Jewry from 1933-1945. The events of Hitler’s WWII are described in chronological order…
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This makes so much sense to me. I hope it may make you think beyond the ceremony of remembrance!
Wars kill people. They devastate families. Wars should be a politician’s absolute last resort and they are an admission that they have failed their people.
It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.
Photo by fotoerich at Pixabay.com
Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.
Those new contraceptive tablets were great.
The instructions were really clear.
I just had to make a sheath out of the intestine of a goat and stretch it over my organ, before ravishing all the handmaidens I desired.
I didn’t have an organ, or a piano, so I stretched it over my lyre!
Margo, “That little voice“, has a few very pertinent questions for the American people on this, their Independence Day. The same questions apply to all countries, to all societies, to all peoples, and it is the people who must decide the answers. I do so hope that they get it right!
July 4, 2018
Can I celebrate this day the way I have past Independence Days: without thought, concern, doubt, fear, disgust, or alarm?
The question plagues me as I watch the sun rise on this two hundred and forty-second birthday of the United States of America. On this day more than two centuries ago a group of men signed a paper declaring America would no longer be ruled by another nation. Our country would be independent of and from outside dominance. Henceforth we would determine our own fate, decide how we would be governed, guided by a Constitution that promised equality.
Not a perfect document, but one filled with hope, determination, and belief that individual voices can better chart the future of this new democracy, not one person.
So I wonder if we, the people of this fragile yet strong, and relatively new nation, can weather the storm of today’s internal…
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Join John on his tour of 50 yards of Florence. It is beautiful, and totally missed by all the crocodiles of tourist groups
The medieval lanes and streets and alleys provide welcome breaks of shade from the heat and the sun, and occasionally from the crocodile lines of tourist groups faithfully following their guides. But you tire easily for you are not so young now, the back hurts a bit, the legs ache, the sun is hot, you need to pause, to sit down, recover a little and you look for a pavement bar or café. But they can be intimidating these Italian bars and cafés, and you pass that one and avoid this one and then you come across a rough looking bar in a little rough looking space, a small scruffy square; there is graffiti on the walls and a few battered tables and chairs clustered outside the very ordinary and un-prepossessing door of the bar “Mingo” There is a van, and a motor cycle lazily parked across the small square…
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