By: Cedric McClester

If it quacks
Like a duck
Acts like a duck
Why get stuck
It’s a duck
What the ****

Here’s what
The case is
Of course he’s a racist
He’s covered all bases
When it comes
To other faces

He spews hate
That he reitterates
At rallies
And debates
Where he anticipates
The reactions
That he rates

Chances are
None to slim
That we would ever
Vote for him
He’s a prisoner
Of his own whims

If it quacks
Like a duck
Acts like a duck
Why get stuck
It’s a duck
What the ****










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

today a dark 
sky is
   wrapping
itself around
my town,
squeezing
    all that
surrounds
in its strong
muscular
   hands, one
solitary crow
    manages
to slip free,
flies over
highways,
      streets
& trees,
I watch it
enviously as
it disappears
thinking
what I
would do
      for a pair
    of wings

Down by the sea
where the marram grass grows
there's a ******* the beach
in a rusting boat
with a tablecloth sail
and it's rudder broke
and her eyes are an ocean wide..

As I read your poetry
I wonder if it's true
Do the demons that help in rhyme
Really have a hold of you

And is the one you say you love
Not returning you the favor
In the poems that you pen
Is this all your life's behavior

Does your father really raise his fist
While your mother screams
As alcohol flows freely in your life
Or is it just poetry

Are you on the verge of suicide
And do you truly cut yourself
Do you feel that worthless in your life
Is what you write a cry for help

As I read your poetry
It often sets me off to wonder
Do you write about yourself
Or do you write about another