crowd of tiny black birds
one of them prettier than the rest
feathers shimmering golden
but when his brothers and sisters fly
it remains below
because you can't fly with wings made of gold

auteur

i write the same thing,
in a different way
with the slightest twist,
in melodramatic patterns,
through a spectrum of moods.
Always ambiguous,
again
and
again.
back to the blank page.
Starting once more,
again
the same game,
played
in the same way,
played
time and time
again.

the mentally unstable
live contented lives
     while trapped in their own minds

medicate them
fill them with therapy

and you're left with another clone
to ruin society.

you swallow your
bottled up anger
and spew onto the next person
that dares approach you

friend or foe
you know not the difference

they're all the same
   to you
you're as comfortable
with each
   which isn't at all

you've been crippled
bred in abuse
rage
   and hate
you know no other way

born innocent
then molded
into knowing
                     only how to hurt.

By: Cedric McClester

She’s a Republican
In Democratic clothes
Which means - she’s beyond contempt
Someone to be loathed
An anomaly?
Well if you’re askin me
She’s what every one of ‘em
Pretends to be
A centrist
Who might go either way
On any issue
On any given day
She likes to calls it
A winning strategy
But it’s still selling out
As far as I can see

She’s a Republican
In Democratic clothes
But with the right pedigree
As everybody knows
She’s very bright
That’s obvious - it shows
Though you’ll find her
Wherever the wind blows
I often wonder
Who she really is
Behind the mask
I’m talkin ‘bout square biz
It’s hard to tell
With the naked eye
How she really feels
Though some of us do try

She’s a Republican
In Democratic clothes
Her popularity
Is always in the throes
We love her one-minute
Then hate her the next
She brings out feelings
That are that complex
She’s very hard
For us to get to know
How much is real
And how much is for show
That’s the question
On many people’s minds
What’s goin on
Behind those closed blinds

She’s a Republican
In Democratic clothes
Who’ll run for president
One day I suppose
She’s very suited
For the life she chose
A prodigy
Who won't be unopposed
There’s so much baggage
In her sordid past
The kind of thing
That usually tends to last
She’ll ascend
But then she’ll drop so fast
Say what you will
The dye’s already cast

She’s a Republican
In Democratic clothes
Who has a war chest
That grows and grows and grows
She’s courted equally
By the rich and poor
With the kind of access
That many would die for
But still she’s baffling
To say the very least
It’s hard to tell
The nature of the beast
And to add insult
Along with injury
Is we don’t know
How she's gonna be

She’s a Republican
In Democratic clothes
Who lost my vote
But that’s just how it goes
When one has trouble
Being who they are
It doesn’t matter
That they’re a rising star
I can’t support her
Under any circumstance
It would be foolish
To even take that chance
Though I do like her
I have to admit
I’ll vote against her
Or maybe I’ll just sit

© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester - all rights reserved.

hey
i could've waited you know
could've gone with you
sometime

hey
did you really mean to let me
slip away
quite so easily

hey
you could call, you know?
you could drag me back
i would

hey
i'm still waiting
how much longer
now

I am the raven,
I eat the dead,
I am the raven,
I remember all things,
I am the raven,
I build all,
I am the raven,
I know all things.

I am the otter,
In rivers and creeks I swim,
I am the otter,
I eat and I play,
I am the otter,
On slopes I slide,
Joy is mine,
In the mountain streams,
I own the rivers,
I feed on their fish.

I am the snake,
The serpent I am,
Between and through move I,
On belly I crawl,
Gold are my scales,
Glacier blue and silver,
All colours they change,
First one then the other,
I taste the air with my tongue,
Through my belly,
I listen to all,
Far craftier than all,
The beast of the field am I.

I am the fox,
The vixon am I,
Crafty and wise,
And hard to catch,
In the ground I live,
Cross the fields I race,
Quick and fast,
I take what I want,
Nothing is safe,
If it I desire,
A vixon am I,
Fleet foot and large tail,
Back and forth it moves,
Grace and escasy,
All come to me,
All I desire.

I am hawk,
I soar and I fly,
Above the plains,
All things I see,
None see what I see,
From up above,
Down I soar,
To **** and eat,
Still on a wire,
Or on a fence,
I know when to wait,
I know when it's time,
When prey is in sight,
Not a second to lose.

I am the vole,
Who lives in the field,
Down in the earth,
I burrow and dig,
Across the field,
All seeds are mine,
To eat and enjoy,
From dusk until dawn,
Timid and cautious,
I look to the sky,
I cannot fight,
I'm weak and I'm small,
But many am I,
And many more come,
And still we will be,
When all you are gone.

I am the owl,
Silent and still,
You know not I passed,
Only my wind,
Silent end deadly,
Queen of the night,
I will consume,
Whatever I catch.

I am the horse,
Across the plains do I run,
Swifter than all,
The one none can catch,
I run like the wind,
For we are one kind,
My mane and my tail,
Like banners and flags,
Nothing can stop us,
Nothing can try,
For we're always moving,
The fast wind and I.

I am the trout,
See how my scales glisten,
I am the trout,
At home in the water,
I swim and I breathe,
What causes others to drown,
I listen to the water,
The rivers, the creeks, the lakes,
The secrets I know,
No others can know.

I am the eagle,
High, high I soar,
Queen of the high places,
All others beneath,
What is not prey,
I care not at all,
I and I only,
See what I see.

But above all tonight,
The fox and vixon am I,
****** and sensual,
Grace and desire,
In the land where the sun sets,
This land that is dusk,
I am all ***,
The kiss of the dead,
The dusk sets like dust,
It powders my fur,
In the night do I hunt,
In the night do I *****,
My fur is desire,
My tail moves and calls,
I walk here as ***,
All come to my call.

~I Am the Fox by Lorekeeper, June 7, 2014

Vernacular manslaughter
Words tossed around like cheap plastic cups
Crushed under feet, like unwanted insects
Meaningless and endless
They bombard the senses
A continuous stream of things that once were
Happiness has fled, split when he saw the scene no doubt

All that is left is a shell
A vehicle for a simple being
But empty now
Scattered with memories
The wind gently swirls plastic bags and papers

                   Now it is me
                   Alone with my thoughts
                   And the ever-present idea of you
                   Leaving light behind
                   Leaving sound behind
                  
                   Alone with the trees
                                                    The stars
                                                                    My thoughts
                                                                                            Me
                    
                   Nothing to be forgotten
                   No reason for anger
                   Time well spent
                   And life goes on

a midnight cigarette in the wind
exhale
the wind blows the smoke back
stench
thinking it could have been avoided
return
what's that smell what were you doing
nothing
the lie reflects in the mud puddle and floating
ash
the wind saw it knows it
coughs
and
suffocates