I dreamed of fire, then of ice.
I dreamed the dull blade hack and slice.
I saw a Mother’s face, tears overspilling.
Pleading for heart’s peace, never stilling.
I saw a Father’s disapproval, seemed uncaring.
I know he feels much more, he’s just not sharing.
Heads and hearts are full of strife,
This one’s suffering is not by knife.
Sons' and daughters' lives in full flow,
The dead passed on and rest below.
Old age and pain abated by the joy
Of grandkids at play, new girls and boys.
Suffering is real, understanding is relative,
Thought and memory are the only derivative.
No end in sight, but this life’s not long,
Neither is it only for the strong.
So if you’re feeling weak and tired,
Sit by me, I’ve lit the fire.

Art rests inside the vision of creativity
Art comes alive with that interpretation
Art is cultured from craft
Until a masterpiece has evolved

Jl 2016

I'm drowning in tears
Please just leave me alone
Or just carve out my heart
I don't care if you use a knife or a stone
Nothing can be worse than the pain i feel at this moment
The blame for that is all on you
Yeah that's right, you own it
Love is dangerous
Love is wild
You have no idea how much i miss being a child
When the worst pain was a scraped knee
And darkness was the scariest thing you could see
When "goodbye" meant "till tomorrow"
Not "from now on we're history" and feeling sorrow
Back when you could say "i love you" and not have your heart broken
When you could fall asleep on the couch and magically end up in bed without being woken
When you wanted nothing more than to grow up
Untill you saw what being a grown up really means and you just wanted to throw up
When you wouldn't have to worry about money or paying bills
Then one day you fell in love
And for the first time in your life
You felt those beautiful chills
That went right down your spine
And then you went to your first party
And had your first glass of wine
Years went by and you grew up
You probably made alot of mistakes
But you never gave up
you did all that it takes
And now you have won
It's not easy to win in life
Cause life first give you the test
And then you get the lesson
You don't have to be better than the rest
Just be better than you were yesterday
And maybe at the end of your life
You're talking to your children
Explaining what you've been through and what life is all about
You tell your kids that everybody they love dies
That they'll have less answers than "why's"
I was talking to somebody about all of this
About my mistakes and all other ****
How i can never make them right
How i've loved and lost
How losing someone you love is the biggest cost
How going to sleep early is so important
How life doesn't come with a lovely assistent
How there will always be pain
How there can never be a rainbow without a little rain
How you need sadness to learn to value of happiness
How you don't always have to say yes
How you can love the sun but sometimes have to hide in the shade
How life is the most painfull thing that's ever made
She looked at me and said "well that doesn't sound good"
I said no but i'd do it all over again if i could
Life hurts you and you can't hurt it
But that doesn't matter
Cause in the end, it's worth it

The tree has lasted many long years,
Seen his share of the forest's deer
Felt the pelting of a hearty rain
Been the perch for a lovely crane
He's turned from pink to vibrant green
Then to yellow, a painted scene
His leaves have fallen, he's covered white
Frozen stiff until daylight
A summer wakens leaves anew
Glittered sweetly by morning dew
This year though his leaves are sparse
As a result of a winter so harsh
Fragile and rickety becomes of he
A million lifetimes he's gotten to see
With each zephyr his old bones weep
He's ready to lay his final sleep
And so the old tree turns the richest gold
A finale quite grand and so bold

and they write confessional poems,
and they're scared
when it happens to be too authentic
and they never bother
personae poetry and a shamelessness
about it - as if imitating someone
and able to distance yourself
from the adequate metaphorical word
schizoid - the personae principle
of poetry - the poet disguised
within many people - and indeed
as poetry goes, the crude oiling not
represented by stiff-collar fictive
outputs of he said, she said, "quote",
and the out-of-body experiences -
but then, that wouldn't be poetry,
would it? what it would be would
be jane austen, or anna karenina.

Brain was a happy place where
all the memories lived together.
There were occasions of mistrust
but it seemed like a good place to live.

Like every society, there were
some unsocial elements in Brain too.
But the good memories could
keep them in control easily.

But something changed in Brain.
Negative thoughts came in large numbers.
They were heavily armed and
were well trained for combat.

The good memories, the core
defence of Brain, were helpless.
They lacked the necessary skills
and the “good will” wasn’t enough.

All the memories were terrified.
To make matters worse, the bad memories
colluded with the negative thoughts.
They leaked vital intel about the defence.

Once the good memories surrendered,
all hell broke in Brain.
The negative thoughts became unstoppable.
They tortured the memories to death.

In this time of terror,
the memories needed a leader.
Someone, they could look up to.
Hope came to their rescue.

By: Cedric McClester

It started out in
The outskirts of Pittsburg
At a backyard barbeque
Where shots were heard
In the dark of night
To the angel of death’s delight
And at the conclusion of the carnage
Four men were in flight

Fifty shell casings
On the ground
Where sadly the dead
Were found
Several more
Were wounded too
When shots rang out
Before they knew

Again the smell of gun smoke
Was in the air
Cause the cowardly perpetrators
Didn’t care
They became the merchants
Of death on a dare
Guns are easy to get
So the public must beware

Fifty shell casings
On the ground
Where sadly the dead
Were found
Several more
Were wounded too
When shots rang out
Before they knew

It’s a sickness we have
And there is no doubt
That we haven’t been able
To stamp it out
With a do nothing Congress
And the NRA
It seems to be happening
Every other day

This time it was Pittsburg
Where will it be next
And don’t take a single word
Out of context
Until we can get ourselves
Out of this hex
We’ll be confronted with something
That defies intellects

Fifty shell casings
On the ground
Where sadly the dead
Were found
Several more
Were wounded too
When shots rang out
Before they knew







Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.