It flies amongst the stars.
Flashes for a moment.
Despite the left scars.
Holds a place close, yet far.

It carries the fallen.
From mistaken paths.
To reaches impossible.
And develops new plans.

It creates new countries.
Raises dead soldiers.
Stamps unsung heroes.
With a feeling of free.

Hear its silent sound.
Open up your eyes.
Place it in your heart.
Elevate from the ground.

It helps us climb.
Better than rope.
Do you see its shape?
It is hope.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Red.
The color of sunlight through eyelids,
Morning clouds before a storm,
Frosted rosebuds and Eve's fruits forbid.
Red.
The color of cheeks flushed,
Falling hearts like autumn leaves,
Wax seal of love notes all covered in dust.
Red.
The color of cherry juice on pale lips,
Soft tongues burnt by bitter coffee,
Blurry traffic lights and cold finger tips.
Red.
The color of beating skin,
Tender hearts rubbed raw,
Silk on curves and a moaning violin.
Red.
The color of freshly stained sheets,
Blood red sun dripping down her skin,
The holy place where her thighs meet.
Red.
The color of dim firelight as eyelids close,
Limbs of lovers intertwine in gold,
And now the color of my words, I suppose.
Red.
My favorite color.

Life could've been different.
Those muddy shoes,
Down that dirt road,
Winding into a gully.

Sometimes the rain makes it,
a river.
The townhouses always had symphonies,
Fogging the cold windows, at night.
The lyrics were concealed,
In the drooping wintergreens.
The vines stretched the brick for ages.

Life could've just been this way.
With this black bean dirt.
Beneath years of reformed concrete.

So I,
Could see it the way that I do.
This yellow moonlight, lynching the air,
In the earliest hours of morning.
And this pair of muddy shoes,
That I washed & put away.
Those days, were still in them,

they say cheerios make your heart stronger
but when you said "this is it. Cheerio" and left
i was leaft heartbroken

it was just a lie
all of it
i trusted you

to nourish me
and give me my daily fibre intake
but you didnt

you left me
by myself
and thats all i will ever be

By: Cedric McClester

A Muslim goes to pray
At any mosque on any day
Which is not meant to convey
The things their critics have to say
I don’t know if you’re aware
Despite the way it may appear
A mosque is just a house of prayer
You’re not indoctrinated there

So wasted time is being spent
Looking at which mosque a terrorist went
That don’t give you the slightest hint
As to why he became so bent
You are more likely to find
The source that captured his warped mind
Somewhere down the dial on line
That’s how he became so blind

Nowhere in Qu’ranic teaching
Will you find what they are preaching
It’s a matter of them reaching
Their own ends while they are breeching
Everything that Islam stands for
Which put simply they ignore
Though that’s the badge they wore
While acting in ways Muslims abhor

They can bastardize the text
And baffle some folk’s intellects
By ignoring the balances and checks
That the Islamic religion projects
And it’s easy enough to fall
If there’s no foundation at all
You might answer anyone’s call
Who can reinterpret and enthrall












Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.