gentle is the night.
the morning light
is too sharp for sight.
batlike, i shall hide,
waiting for the moon to rise.

you know what,
at one point
he probably did
love you back
but he was just
a boy
lacking courage,
inferior to pride,
silent of words,
and
stagnant with change,
both too afraid
to embark on opportunity,
to embrace life.
so life flew by
and together you died
while alone
you lived.

By: Cedric McClester

Why do widows and orphans
Cause us such fear
Who are running for their lives
And just seek a share
Of the American dream
That brought most of us here
How quickly we forget
Now we don’t seem to care

These are people between
A rock and a hard place
Who every single day
Stare death in its face
We can’t claim to be the best
With quite as much bass
As we could in the past
And in any case

Please don’t tell me because
They are Syrian
That makes ‘em
Twice as scary and
We can’t say we’re who
We try to pretend
That myth or that fantasy
Has come to an end

We’re faced with a battle
For the American soul
Once open and warm
Now we’ve turned so cold
That the American fable
Has now gotten old
Today we're  just punks
Who used to be bold























Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2915.  All rights reserved.

If only I could preserve her motherhood in a bottle of glass, I could have forever slept in the luminous embrace of its hypnotic tenderness.