Energy games these days.
Synergy claims.
Learn to relay, signals
Impounding on my ears.

Listen closely my dear.
It's all in here. There's just
Nothing to fear.
Tear fully, submit consciously,
Celebrate the oath of life.
Taste the flavors of the Earth.

She is here for us. And all.
And everything.

Questioning may continue
For a short time more.
My desire to know for sure,
Though will out soar,
Will implode the weak,
Low vibrations, Til they barely dim.

Peace is within, the faithful
Chant. I now sing this hymn
My heart has the beat,
And when I watch,
My mind finds the keys,
The steps, the recipe.

Faith is only the beginning...
I must be my best me.
Perfection is reality, no need to strive.
Standing up, Notice the toes on my feet,
Just being me. As I have no other
Choice.
Releasing IDs,
Sculpting energy,
Creating,

By: Cedric McClester

I believe hope springs eternal
With faith measured by the kernel
We can get past this infernal
If we get cooking with some Sterno
Can we turn it all around
When we commit to get down
All kinds of solutions can be found
So I’ll continue to expound

We can over come they sang
While shooters went bang bang bang
But not from the members of a gang
Out of the darkness from which they sprang
So I’ll remain an optimist
Not just a complainant who ***** his fist
I know that ignorance is bliss
But at all costs that’s what we must resist

If there’s a need for a paradigm
James Baldwin called it the fire next time
While city officials called it a crime
We can’t repeat it time after time
But I’m encouraged by what I see
From the populace and the powers that be
I don’t know if that’s just me
Cos I see a positive destiny

The commentator called for peace and calm
While the Nation of Islam called an alarm
And members of the clergy said do no harm
Let’s march in protest arm and arm
I know that we can find a better way
Than the tragic displays of yesterday
Because everybody’s gonna have their say
See I believe in time it’s gonna be okay




© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.

Poetry as a mental illness.
Interesting proposition.

Poets do not see like others.
Poets do not feel like others.
Often, they do not live like others.
Ergo: Poets are not like others.

Assuming others are normal
(assuming that normal exists)
then poets are not normal.

Does that make poetry a mental illness?

I haven't a clue and the mad-hatter
is throwing a party for which
I cannot be late. Forget normal.
Come along. We shall take tea
and play croquet with
flamingoes and hedgehogs,
while speaking in puzzles and rhymes.

That feels normal enough to me.
   ~mce

Lament, Repent and save me, for these sins we've sinned have slain me
sent me spiralling, icy shivers touch my spine as i think we cannot sin again.
Drained and Pained you've made me, through your web you have restrained me
Tamed me, Kept me wanting, Dreaming dreams i'd never dreamt before

Though your beauty lit the morning after nights i spent adoring
skin to skin we slept embracing, doting on each others form
Grieved am I, and mourning, wishing I had kept from falling
Drowning deep and deeper still in tears wept from our love

Sickly streetlight lit your features and made my body succumb to shivers
uncontrolled, uncontained as i strained to halt my nervous shakes
so sweetly we trembled together entangled inside one and others, soft embrace
as time stood still to let us savour each others touch

Misted windows kept such sights from unwanted spying eyes
and the music kept all sounds from trying ears
your whispered words a great disguise sent my mind to greater heights
believing wants and dreams were nigh and thus i now repent

"forgive me for my sins
and grant me a new life
gift this life with sweet reprise
and bring me to your paradise"

brilliant transformations scare her
she doesn’t know what she’ll become or how they’ll react but she knows this is what she wants
this is what she’s been waiting for and even though they’ll stare
brilliant transformations scar her
but she will convalesce, she will blossom, and they will adjust
and she’ll finally be everything she wanted