I, too, saw God through mud, -
       The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled.
       War brought more glory to their eyes than blood,
       And gave their laughs more glee than shakes a child.


Merry it was to laugh there -
       Where death becomes absurd and life absurder.
       For power was on us as we slashed bones bare
       Not to feel sickness or remorse of ******.


I, too, have dropped off Fear -
       Behind the barrage, dead as my platoon,
       And sailed my spirit surging light and clear
       Past the entanglement where hopes lay strewn;


And witnessed exultation -
       Faces that used to curse me, scowl for scowl,
       Shine and lift up with passion of oblation,
       Seraphic for an hour; though they were foul.


I have made fellowships -
       Untold of happy lovers in old song.
       For love is not the binding of fair lips
       With the soft silk of eyes that look and long,


By Joy, whose ribbon slips, -
       But wound with war's hard wire whose stakes are strong;
       Bound with the bandage of the arm that drips;
       Knit in the webbing of the rifle-thong.


I have perceived much beauty
       In the hoarse oaths that kept our courage straight;
       Heard music in the silentness of duty;
       Found peace where shell-storms spouted reddest spate.


Nevertheless, except you share
       With them in hell the sorrowful dark of hell,
       Whose world is but the trembling of a flare
       And heaven but as the highway for a shell,


You shall not hear their mirth:
       You shall not come to think them well content
       By any jest of mine. These men are worth
       Your tears. You are not worth their merriment.

There was an old man who was very depressed
He'd failed every trouble and trial and test
He wept and he sobbed til his eyes had gone dry
He was so very sad that he wanted to

Seek emotional counsel for his dismal disorder
So he picked up the flute and the woodwind recorder
He learned to find joy through music expression
He thought he had finally beat his

Very hard level in Mario 3
But he failed at everything, even the Wii
He did with his sadness once again coincide
Til one fateful day he committed

To an exercise plan that got him in shape
He got slimmer and trimmer and boy, he felt great!
He was glad as a songbird and free as a dove
And thanks to the splendor of Tinder he even found

An overcontrolling excuse for a girl
Who caused years of therapy to slowly unfurl
As his job, his courtship, and his whole life went south
He finally put a bullet in his

Resume list of all of his talents
He saw each day as an exciting new challenge
From raise to promotion to recommendation letter
The old man's life had took a turn for the

Edge of the bridge that his body fell from
Though police say "suicide" there still are some
Who doubt the absurd and believe the absurder
That what actually killed him was coldblooded

Lizard-people who rule the government's workings
Putting on a facade while in the dark lurking
"The happiest suicide" may one day be explained
But if it is the Illuminati will wipe all our

life is an interlude
when the world began
I was doing dreamily
sent out to a foreign land
with a vague recollection
of the pleasant paradise
I came from

how the creation seems so real, pacing around the garden
it’s always a revolution, I said, I can dig that
bronze trees before an azure darkening sky
down the cool breeze’s path, never held back your thoughts, heavenly shock
grabbing all the meaning, whatever I can come across

year already asked for an ending, gave it all my hopes, tell does it give a pleasant thrill
pictures were nice, the highway desert isn’t as scorching
absurder yes, fitting a preference for divine and outlandish

waited long enough
it’s a good time to leave
not that it was for nothing

travel before the sun gets here
make it bright and far as my
midnight music

games are fun when there’s a warning
about how much it can cost ya

numbers of stars, the more
that’s the hope
out there
somewhere too

I want an interlude that’s graceful, great as designed, a strange but heavenly dream
it’s my interlude

By: Cedric McClester

Dog Whistle Don
Who was privileged born
Would that he be gone
Than we be left to morn
Another senseless death
Or comfort the bereft
Because a shooting fest
Created the distress

Dog Whistle Don
Pretends to be forlorn
When innocents are gone
And their lives are torn
From mayhem or ******
But nothing’s more absurder
Than his false sympathy
Cuz as everyone can see
He lacks true empathy

Dog whistle Don
Spouts his rhetoric
Like words tend not to stick
Or attract the sick
That no good such and such
Uses rallies as a crutch
And as long as he’s untouched
He don’t care that much

Dog Whistle Don
Was worthy of our scorn
From the day he was born
His mouth’s been a bullhorn
Inciting crowds to violence
And that the press be silenced
Because of his reliance
On mass compliance





Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.