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The Twitter Madonna art gallery curation thingy


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I can't remember where all the information was posted so I made an official thread. Menschul or anybody with any information please post it for me. Thanks. X

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It's all on Facebook, dear.

This Tuesday, October 8th at 4:30PM EST Madonna will host a 'live art curation' accepting and providing input on artistic submissions for the #ArtForFreedom movement.
Madonna and VICE created this platform to give people around the world an opportunity to answer the question: "What Does Freedom Mean To You?". Madonna and Steven Klein premiered their project #SecretProjectRevolution to the world last week, as the first submission for the #ArtforFreedom platform.

Now, it's your turn.

The Twitter community is invited to submit images, videos, music and poetry by including #ArtForFreedom in their tweet expressing their personal meaning of Freedom and Revolution. Submissions will begin Friday, October 4th to be part of the 'live curation'.

Madonna will be curating the submissions in real-time via her official account www.Twitter.com/Madonna. Join the revolution!

For more information on Art For Freedom go to www.ArtForFreedom.com
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Guest Rachelle of London

So tea time tomorrow for us? Ughh Ive got some sort of Christmas party to go to :(

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA

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So I submitted a video. Far from perfect but I wanted to do it.

There's a thread that connects us.

It's not what you might expect.

You concealed it in the same way that I do.

He concealed it before you.

That's how we connect.

Silently.

A cannon ball in each shoe.

Something like that.

I was selfish, naive and impatient.

I never considered that the music was a tool to sooth his aching past.

The torture of war.

His physical collapse.

A capable consciousness clouded with ash.

It hurt endlessly to watch.

Is there any suffering worse than watching another person suffer?

Petrified.

Time slows.

You grow and you grow and you forget.

Time moves fast.

The sting grows deeper with the things I learn since his death.

Distractions wear thin and the truth comes right back.

We can never forget.

I don't want to forget.

He gave you a blessing.

He gave you a curse.

It gave you a reason to explore what you loved.

Toes pointed, arms raised; floating across the floor.

Then the dancing had to stop.

That's something you will never forget.

I too know how much it hurts to almost regret.

A feeling confused by a feeling that crushed you in childhood.

An echo of sadness.

Still, a momentary escape from that thing that nobody talks about is priceless.

Any escape is priceless.

You taught me that when I thought I had nothing left.

When I was surrendering to ghosts.

When my mind was a mess.

You taught me to shrink my obsession with death,

reinforced my backbone; you became my strength.

Night time invasions from apparitions.

Faces unrecognisable and grey like cigarette smoke.

Voices like white noise filling a cathedral.

Nothing related to anything I know.

I never doubted that they were demons and ghosts.

The launch of a deafening whisper, more like the jeers of a crowd.

No words I could discern other than 'Your brain is irregular and you might as well die. Some malfunction of the human design.'

I was trapped in flesh.

The question was not 'Whether or not?'. It was just 'How?'

At my lowest point desperate and ashamed.

Numb.

I confessed to you with barely an emotive tone that I was empty and alone.

Fearful and trapped.

Your voice quivered as I lay next to you but you hid your fear.

That's what we do.

Real advice and endless love from my grandfather's daughter.

I think we both cried silently.

Obsession with what happens after ceasing to exist began almost a decade before.

Age seven or six.

Education was the ultimate peak of self worth.

My exhibition of sadness was praised, something to admire and applaud.

Intellectualisation of something rotten.

I was confused by everything then.

What exactly was I being taught?

It never seemed obvious to make myself happy.

That's why I owe a debt to your simple words.

A purity that gave me a reason to care.

My mental health, emotional burden, chemical imbalance, destructive nature, thinking too much and distancing myself from love.

All of that became a part of my soul and not just a curse.

Stupidity is in my nature.

IQ of one-fifty-six.

Not everybody works this way.

All who do I'll support.

No patronisation.

No cliche.

Just my hand holding open a door.

Just one crumb of what you gave I'd feel a success.

I'll give that same advice to everybody else.

Accepting yourself brings freedom,

but knowing yourself comes before.

If you ever feel abandonment or fear,

there's something that you may want to recall.

There's a thread that connects us.

It's not what you might expect.

We're all stranded alone.

Together, no less.

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Yup!!! Everyone go RT it and I will do the same for everyone :) I want her to see it!

i retweeted!

mine's on my twitter as well

@mr_whoopiedoo

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Hey guys ive been a madonna fan since i first went to see her "virgin tourl" i come on here most days to see whats happening but this is my first post ...this is really exciting! this is my submission to Madonnas curation... its a song i wrote last week while i had spare time in studio inspired by #artforfreedom its called "Revolution"

hope you like it http://youtu.be/0GzDkXJwBqQ xx

Edited by Starstormer2013
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Hey guys ive been a madonna fan since i first went to see her "virgin tourl" i come on here most days to see whats happening but this is my first post ...this is really exciting! this is my submission to Madonnas curation... its a song i wrote last week while i had spare time in studio inspired by #artforfreedom its called "Revolution"

hope you like it http://[/size]youtu.be/0GzDkXJwBqQ xx

great song! i like it

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So I submitted a video. Far from perfect but I wanted to do it.

There's a thread that connects us.

It's not what you might expect.

You concealed it in the same way that I do.

He concealed it before you.

That's how we connect.

Silently.

A cannon ball in each shoe.

Something like that.

I was selfish, naive and impatient.

I never considered that the music was a tool to sooth his aching past.

The torture of war.

His physical collapse.

A capable consciousness clouded with ash.

It hurt endlessly to watch.

Is there any suffering worse than watching another person suffer?

Petrified.

Time slows.

You grow and you grow and you forget.

Time moves fast.

The sting grows deeper with the things I learn since his death.

Distractions wear thin and the truth comes right back.

We can never forget.

I don't want to forget.

He gave you a blessing.

He gave you a curse.

It gave you a reason to explore what you loved.

Toes pointed, arms raised; floating across the floor.

Then the dancing had to stop.

That's something you will never forget.

I too know how much it hurts to almost regret.

A feeling confused by a feeling that crushed you in childhood.

An echo of sadness.

Still, a momentary escape from that thing that nobody talks about is priceless.

Any escape is priceless.

You taught me that when I thought I had nothing left.

When I was surrendering to ghosts.

When my mind was a mess.

You taught me to shrink my obsession with death,

reinforced my backbone; you became my strength.

Night time invasions from apparitions.

Faces unrecognisable and grey like cigarette smoke.

Voices like white noise filling a cathedral.

Nothing related to anything I know.

I never doubted that they were demons and ghosts.

The launch of a deafening whisper, more like the jeers of a crowd.

No words I could discern other than 'Your brain is irregular and you might as well die. Some malfunction of the human design.'

I was trapped in flesh.

The question was not 'Whether or not?'. It was just 'How?'

At my lowest point desperate and ashamed.

Numb.

I confessed to you with barely an emotive tone that I was empty and alone.

Fearful and trapped.

Your voice quivered as I lay next to you but you hid your fear.

That's what we do.

Real advice and endless love from my grandfather's daughter.

I think we both cried silently.

Obsession with what happens after ceasing to exist began almost a decade before.

Age seven or six.

Education was the ultimate peak of self worth.

My exhibition of sadness was praised, something to admire and applaud.

Intellectualisation of something rotten.

I was confused by everything then.

What exactly was I being taught?

It never seemed obvious to make myself happy.

That's why I owe a debt to your simple words.

A purity that gave me a reason to care.

My mental health, emotional burden, chemical imbalance, destructive nature, thinking too much and distancing myself from love.

All of that became a part of my soul and not just a curse.

Stupidity is in my nature.

IQ of one-fifty-six.

Not everybody works this way.

All who do I'll support.

No patronisation.

No cliche.

Just my hand holding open a door.

Just one crumb of what you gave I'd feel a success.

I'll give that same advice to everybody else.

Accepting yourself brings freedom,

but knowing yourself comes before.

If you ever feel abandonment or fear,

there's something that you may want to recall.

There's a thread that connects us.

It's not what you might expect.

We're all stranded alone.

Together, no less.

Thank you....Thank you
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Will I break?

With the odds all against me

Can I stay?

Within gods grace so he can save me

It's not safe

To Dwell in thoughts of

Insecurity

So I pray

Pray for him to heal me

It's not fate

For me to die

I will fight

For my life

Paralyzed

From the devils constant shaming

Beaten down

Scorned by those who claimed to love me

-break with harmonized oohs-

Chorus (Joined by oos)

My life is in his hands

I don't have to worry bout a thang

I can count on him to restore

All the joy that life can bring

No crying

No crying

He's here and I'm not dying

My song for artforfreedom

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