the muse came late
her face in battered bandage
her angry beautiful
her homemade crutches
works of art in cherry wood

her face in battered bandages
the muse came late
she gave her blood
in vials of splintered glass
her angry beautiful

the muse came late
her angry beautiful
a satchel filled with herbs
to cure and ****
she gave her blood

her angry beautiful
she gave her battered blood
as thick as cherry ink
her whispered manifesto
a satchel filled with herbs

she gave her blood
a satchel filled with herbs
of rosemary forget-me-nots and rue
her homemade crutches
works  of art in cherry wood

She's wearing glasses and sits behind glass,
    He's wearing gloves; blue eyes in a mask,
    The note: "I haz Gun?",  hastily written,
    Brown eyes meet blue eyes; the brown eyes are smitten.

    In the distance, The Sweeney, all tongs and hammer,
    She's fixing his spelling, correcting his grammar,
    He's expecting used fivers stuffed in a sack,
    But she writes down her number and slides the note back.

    Outside: The driver's impatiently waiting.
    Inside:  Wide open,  blue eyes dilating,
    Then he runs, glancing back, and he's out in the rain,
    From the display case, a sigh; she'll never see him again.

    But at the end of her shift and in less of a hurry,
    In a whistle with some flowers, he takes her out for a curry.

To the women who lived in the barrio,
The actor seemed quite the lothario.
   But his novia knew
   ‘Twas a mythical queue,
She had written her lover’s scenario!

I don't honor Easter
Bunnies hoppin' on one leg
I have no taste
For colored "peeps"
Or chocolate Easter eggs

Thanks to
Emperor Constantine
We have this pagan brew
I find the worship of Ishtar
Has me in a stew!

The holidays of pagans!
And to see events of Christ
Blended in with all of it
Has my stomach in a vice!

Take your rabbits
And your "Ishtar" eggs
I'll just have to pray
I'd just prefer to call this time
RESURRECTION DAY!

The sea appears before our eyes,
with tides that wash and sanctify;
And lifts our spirits toward the sun,
where golden rays connect as one.

They sanctify our souls within,
with crystal waters erasing sin;
And cleanse the ache of angry ire,
extinguishing all the raging fires.

While resting on the burning sands,
we contemplate our lives' demands;
With hearts aspiring to simplicity,
and Wills designed to set us free.

As we watch the rolling of the sea,
the tides tumbling fast and furiously;
We sense that angels rise above,
to demonstrate God's eternal love.

By: Cedric McClester

Should we decide to impeach,
What is the lesson that it would teach?
Would it be considered overreach?
Even though decorum has been breached
Does the House have the sworn duty,
To render to the country, the President’s *****?
And wouldn’t that be a thing of beauty,
Or simply a sign that the Democrats are moody?

If you can get where I’m coming from
Clearly, we’re caught up in a conundrum
That’s just as abrasive as a corundum
But Constitutionally it’s in secundum
With what’s laid out in black and white
But should we engage in that kind of fight
Knowing the Senate probably won’t do right
Should we march boldly into that good night?

How to proceed is anyone’s guess
The question is, what would be best?
Does duty call nevertheless
Or are you of the opinion that I digress
I don’t profess to have the answer
So consider me an artful tap dancer
Running in circles like a lab hamster
Contemplating how to punish a lamster

History will record where we’re now at
Whether, or not we go to the mat
Fact of the matter, it’s our turn at bat
And all of us know that we smell a rat
So, how do we propose this riddle gets solved
Should we drag it out and hope it evolves
Or like everything else watch it dissolve
Considering everything that it involves




















Cedric McClester, Copyroght © 2019.  All rights reserved.

By the time I got to Woodstock, I was pushing Sixty-five.
I was qualified for Medicare when I finally arrived.
All the famous bands that played there, by and large, they are no more.
You can hear them still on vinyl; just not at the record store.
It was mud and drunken nakedness in the summer of sixty-nine.
There were ******-active drugs too if you were so inclined.
All the gorgeous girls who made that scene back in Love’s own summer,
Now use Clairol to hide the gray and are somebody’s Grandmother.
And what about the tall lean dudes who lusted for them then?
They now rely on small blue pills to get it up again.
Imagine standing on that stage staring out at the tie-dyed throng
as Janice Joplin poured her heart and soul out in a song.
I hear Hendrix was electric even as the skies did pour.
And Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young were up for an encore.
Lennon couldn’t make it and Jethro Tull declined.
Joan Baez was magical; Joni Mitchell would have cried.
They are but ghostly echoes now, playing to an empty field.
We were all once young and beautiful, and Love was true and real.
Still, Time is a heartless arrow, relentless now as then.
I only fooled myself to think I could go back again.

Keep the torch alive to pass to a new generation with the key that unlocks the road to the future follow your passion the unemployment will follow we’ve been through some amazing times together make a difference to thine own self be true commencement means a beginning not an ending as we go forth life is a journey not a destination we made it all the hard work we’ve put forth to this point in time these are the best time in our lives as one door closes another door opens because a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step to make the world a better place trust your instincts you don’t find education in books we are the future bright with promise some see the future and ask why but we see the future and ask why not Habakkuk 2:7 we did it I can’t believe we’re here believe in yourself live your dreams to be all that you can be God has a plan for you we have the responsibility to build a new world if opportunity doesn’t knock build a door don’t follow the path blaze a trail because there is no one like you because you are an individual just like those other hundred or so people your age and dressed just alike because life is what happens while you’re making plans live, laugh, love you have to look through the rain to see the rainbow dance like nobody’s looking (even though they are, and they’re laughing at you, not with you) aim for the moon and if you miss you’ll hit the moon (or something) life is not waiting for the storm to pass it’s about dancing in the rain because you are a new generation called to miss 100% of the shots you don’t take because we were all one big family who have lived, laughed, and loved together hey and remember the time (name) barfed on the stairs we’ll all have that shared moment to remember together we can’t save all the starfish but I can make a difference for this one because as a great man Robert Frost said in “The Road Not Taken” we can make a difference for all the starfish in the sea of life today is the first day of your rest of your life oh, the places you’ll go like maybe eternal stasis in front of a smartphone I don’t know why they asked me to be the speaker shout-out to Mom wear sunscreen because your future’s so bright close your eyes and remember when hey, an air horn, that’s so cool, no one’s ever done that before woo-hoo I want to congratulate each of your on your incredible talents and abilities as you begin your journey to a bright and shining future because we are the best class (name of school and a shout-out to the mascot)) has ever graduated (since last year) a dream is a wish your heart makes and you can become anything you dream to be or wish to be or something #lifehack #hashtag now go forth and make your lives exceptional although on Monday morning we’ll wake up and realize we’re just some more unemployed Americans.

“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed…”

                                       -Allen Ginsberg


No. He didn’t.

He helped mediocrities self-destruct
Through formless howlings in their lonely minds
He pushed them to their deaths with obscene smirks
No more connected than foul faeces flung

Against the good, the beautiful, the true
He pitied himself, and called it rebellion
He squealed out his pimply scatologies
He destroyed the weaklings he could have helped

The best minds of his generation pitied him
But kept their children far away from it