For Truth to Freedom

Let me give you a poem I wrote some years ago, I called it: “Judgement” Who am I, or you to say of another they are bad or good, when we do not even know them well enough to say hello! It is not the one’s we judge, my friend, who have a price to pay. Small town minds, little selfish, bitter people; they hung their hero on a cross, two thousand years ago; and he is still hanging there today. I say; Free Him from that Cross and send Him on his way. HEY! Way, down deep inside yourself, you know what I am saying; ‘You have a little circle of friends, who think the way you think’ and all the rest are Wop’s, or nigger’s, or chinks. Hey brother, there is a stranger at your door, He has blood on His hands and feet, but you won’t let Him in, because He does not think the way YOU think. Judgement makes one so ugly, who could instead, be so Beauty-full…….

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