"adulation" poems
There's one thing
I have to tell you.
I can't stop uttering,
anything about you.
Whether its about the midnight rain
and how it describes your voice so well,
or the way you won't stop singing,
till you're satisfied and sewn me to sleep.
If I look at the dark orange spotted afternoon,
or the satin red leaves of autumn.
I'll know its been a while since I've thought
of you.
If I hear the chalky barren concert of concrete,
or the uproar of the arid wind.
I'll have forgotten what your voice
sounds like.
If I feel the reticent tremble of winter,
or the cold bitter piercing destitute bed.
I'll remember why our adulation had
my heart in a headlock.
I cannot give you the world
or my name.
Because I do not own them.
All I can give you is my love and lungs,
that is all that I have and hold.
All I'll ever ask of you is for your voice and love.
You make my head lighter with just
some notes you sing.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 1:09 AM UTC
A confident man feels not a need to speak
on all things with which he does not agree
Though in the proper time and place
he is not afraid to assert his way
And though his words at times cause spurn,
he will admit when they are out of turn
Fearing not the inevitable mistake,
but rather owning it too late
Caring and feeling without hesitation
and not for reciprocal adulation
Emotions are expressed appropriately;
either subtlety or rationally
As honest with others as with himself;
recognizing what he does and doesn’t do well
Claiming to know what he does know
and asks when he don’t
Pursuing tasks for their benefit and or joy
rather than status or fleeting ploys
Those latter things are often great fun,
but worry of them yields none
While in his mind there is good thinking,
he is more occupied with good acting
In order to have concerns of the ideological,
requires labors that are practical
On his confidence, he does not ponder,
as neither he or anyone wonders
of whether he truly possesses it.
We know it.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
Benign, benevolent ballerina bubbly bathing by beautiful blossoming balsams.
A gander I took and I was a statue, still, allured, and enchanted. my lips basted by beauty, before her I was an apparition, lost in forests of adulation.
A vanishing spirit soon to be a vestige of a vestige. I shall wage wars, arm myself and battle my way to her hands that can melt the glaciers residing in my heart.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
Step one, the first steps...
So Joyful was I of every single stride,
Impossible for me to hold back my teary eyed fatherly pride...
Not much more through the years could I have said with genuine adulation,
At times though a fathers words unspoken, will express volumes about his deepest hearts jubilation...
A balance of tenderness tempered with sympathy, things that have to take first place.
Discipline... must come in a way that will heal without any harmful trace.
To be a father is sincerely like nothing else,
To actually understand what our heavenly father feels and makes his heart melt...
Fatherhood, Fatherhood to me please be kind,
I beg you make the memories of my child's heart always desire to rewind...
J.I.F.
1 Corinthians 13:8a
8 Love never fails.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Bravery
I thought I was brave
with the scars to prove it.
My legacy -
broken bones, split knuckles,
black eyes and loose teeth.
Adulation and respect.
I fought both man and isms
Never backed down.
But a black man, driving
an Uber taught me the truth of
true bravery.
Harassed, insulted, threatened by
a low-life passenger,
white racism covered in a cheap suit and tie,
he refused to take the bait.
He denied himself the pleasure of
justified violence.
He told me his story -
and anger for him, righteous indignation,
crashed over me in furious waves.
I admonished him for not
confronting that mans ignorance
with a closed and determined fist.
Never back down, right?
Gently, he spoke the truth of
black men in America.
His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.
You, he said, are innocent until proven guilty.
Protected by a system that
oppresses me.
I am guilty - period - and would be lucky
to be arrested, not killed,
in a confrontation with that bigot.
So he did nothing, let the swine in a tie
off at his destination,
and drove on - leaving that pig to
wallow in his hate.
His bravery earned him nothing.
No adulation. No respect. No recognition.
Nothing except another day of life.
Another day with his family.
In contrast - my lifetime of bravery.
A pale reflection, when set beside his truth.
He was brave, not I.
My self-styled bravery, forever
tainted
by my privilege.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
Banana splits lickedy his spican-and-span throbbing
peninsula clock jar.
The scar from his far faux **** ignited his beating
hexagonal calendar.
Which is used to peruse the jujubees metallic books in the public
libation crazy train station.
His ecstatic adulation exemplifies why diamonds are
a girl gorilla's favorite soap.
His floating cubed boat is on a remote desert
impala growling at the turquoise toilet.
But his spoiled toys are annoyed about the choice between life or
demonstrative sponsored concerts by budweiser.
Woeful razor beaked birds marvel at absurd his Salvador
Daoist Dharma surreal cereal caramel karma flakes.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 4:02 PM UTC
Through the fog of disenfranchisement he emerges
Gold watch, Gold rings, Gold hair, Lead heart
He has the resources...
He knows the secret to making money
He must know how I can make that money
So I can finally be happy
As happy as I was before I knew I needed money
Unless the secret of making money is me not having it
He has the influence...
Over those with crumbling foundations of knowledge
And foreclosed homes of empathy
Their situation is dire
They need someone to admire
What channels will this river of adulation lead to, though?
Their minds sneak across the borders of fear
into paranoia
Their hearts scale the walls of love
into hatred
He has the power...
The Botanist tells the customer that the flower is actually a ****
And he must **** it
There are Bedouin villagers who know nothing of the outside world
Except for our bombs
Will the sounds of love be heard over our tanks and guns?
He has no control...
No control of the thoughts of those that live
in the shadows of uncertainty
No control over the brotherhood all men share despite our differences
He is not the sun
And time waits for nobody
And misery finds everyone no matter what
And you can burn the witch at the stake of your fears
But her banshee screams will unleash the titan of retribution
Through all this hatred
Love will save us, right?
Or is love what led us here?
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
A truck driver from Tupelo
A pop band from the 'pool
A superstar from Hoboken,
And one...the King of Cool
The superstar from Hoboken
Became the Chairman of The Board
If you made it into his 'rat pack'
You knew you'd really scored
His movies and his music
Made him the world's number one
But he had to minimize his world
When someone stole his son
His boy was kidnapped, truthfully
Back in 1965
And through his contacts in the mob
He got his son back home alive
This is the price of fame folks
Behind the glitter and the glam
They've got to have their safety
But the fans don't give a ****
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
The Memphis Mafia gave protection
To The King of Rock and Roll
But, by choice his world got smaller
And he went into a hole
He built a house in Memphis
To protect him from his fans
And thanks to Dr. Feelgood
He died a lonely, broken man
He couldn't live the life he earned
He was a prisioner instead
It's a shame he has more value
Now that he is dead
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
He'd a partner and was cool
He was suave and sang songs
And he worked with a "fool"
They conquered the nightclubs
They were known near and far
But his created alter ego
Lived his life at the bar
He ran with Frank Sinatra
He was the King of Cool
But when The Chairman started lessons
Dean was right there in his school
The Beatles broke in Hamburg
But way back in sixty two
Their bubble was just forming
There was nothing they could do
They lived their life behind the scenes
For when they did go out
The girls would all go crazy
And the world would twist and shout
Privacy came hard for them
They went four separate ways
These four young men from Liverpool
LIved life inside a maze.
It's sad that adulation
takes their freedom, makes them hide
But they're safer locked away from us
They're safer locked inside
Prisoners of their own success
Their world's now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
The coming of Trump
Like the coming of Jesus
Is hailed by the masses
He knows how to please us
Or maybe it’s that
He just knows how to tease us
Cuz he’s clearly not Christ
Nor is he close to Jesus
The coming of Trump
Like Jesus went through Galilee
All that’s missing
Are the palm fronds ya see
But Jesus rode an ***
Trump rides an airplane
And so you’d have to say alas
The two just aren’t the same
The coming of Trump
With all the adulation
As if his words alone
Could really save the nation
And those who are prone
To not have any patience
You find at every stop
Wishing him their salutations
The coming of Trump
Like Jesus’ Sermon On-The- Mount
Talks about bringing
Many things into account
He’s gonna build a fence
At a huge discount
The Mexicans will pay for it
Which for him is paramount
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:50 AM UTC
The walk along the streets of fame
Streetlights illuminating the night
Dazzles are but fleeting moments
Adulation of the crowds will wane
Looking through the dark glasses
To fend off the bright camera flashes
Offered the spotlight by bright lights
They will switch off during the day
Temporary embellishments will disappear
With ease walk the streets
Where fame is just not a stereotype
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
your eyes don't glisten like they used to
just saying it's not something usual for you
*so I guess you're heavily imbued
with this crestfallen attitude?*
yea I know,
I've changed in the same way
my own little reverse-breakthrough
Risque foreplay with ultramarine Bombay
before stepping in to emcee the Devil's soiree
And no, you really don't --and honestly never did-- know me;
you only knew one of many façades I brazed
on my face
in the midst of a cliche
New Year's day typa haze
During the phase of
my infamously tempestuous craze
I was precipitously *(ignited
quite possibly by my own
flaring sparks)*
set ablaze with praise
but my mores seem to be misplaced
probably somewhere in the frenzy and hysteria
So I guess I'm left to embrace my untraced boundaries
*And get my viridian eyes back to glistening
on their own viridescent terms
Not codependent on the hollowed adulation
and sweet-talk from bamboccioni*
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
As I beheld a flower of rare beauty
In the silence choked heart of wilderness
The facsimile of a pretty woman came alive
From the coagulated heap of images
A woman…….! Isn’t she
God’s supreme handiwork
An animated form of chiseled art
A joy to behold
A figure of curvaceous ups and downs
God’s beautiful calligraphy
Her skin glowing as satin
Hands and fingers of creamy softness
Eyes reflecting love and gentleness
Voice musical and sweet
Moving with measured cadence
And walking with fluid ease
One who smoothens the rough edges of life
But Alas! A treasure rarely valued.
A loving daughter to her parents
An adorable mate to her man
A forgiving mother to all
The fountain spring of new life
The lovely mother to her children!
Though she is branded by many
As frail or fickle, infirm or impish
How empty is a man’s life
Who hasn’t known a woman,
Either as a mother, sister or daughter
Or a lover, companion or wife
This marvel of creation,
This miracle worthy of adulation!
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Red faced and wasted
I saw you naked
And fell in love
With your ancient body
Gone is the impulse to run
And all i can do now
Is to write simply
Lies and truth
Mixed together
Like oil and vinegar
We are fumigating
Our own bodies
Remove these carbon copies
And quietly daydream
About the faces of lost
Summer lovers
Fundraisers say goodbye
To yesterday's vacations
Just as we long to cry
We catch ourselves
Smiling for a moment
What do the turtles wish to communicate
Are we awake in our shells
Or have we fallen into the spell of limitation
Consternation and ************
Facts and figures receive their adulation
While we attract only tender triangulations
Please finish up your investigation
I blame you for instigating this comedy
A catalyst of abomination and dichotomy
Which followed me into retirement
Let's give banquets back to the government
And return to ancient lands
Devoted to camels and drunken apologies
It's apocryphal
Pornographic phantasmagoria
Fantastic fan-fictions
Describing sacredly sadistic rituals
Glorious duality
Radically alters our expectations
Yet manages to satisfy your frustrations
In dissimilar situations
We liberate our agitation and consternation
Over magazines and barnacles
We are more conspicuous
Than an empty gap in the sky
Made by two constellations
Taking a long vacation
Intrepid sailors raise their sails
And navigate by stars and compasses
Renaissance dancers are porous instigators
They initiate our imitations
We dream of political sovereignty
To remediate these tragedies
I breathe warfare and cleanse the air
Of apathetic non-negotiaters
Harboring criminals like butterflies
Sometimes the means do justify your eyes
Targets never argue
And bullets never lie
Finances and fiancées
Certainly have some value
Yet we underrate our skies
Miles of lost continents
Drift out from your skin
We begin an embargo
Hoping in the future we will win
Metaphysical furniture
Effects the state of mind you're in
The record players turned down
But you heat me up to begin
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 4:05 PM UTC
We thank you for our Queen,
For all that she has been!
By generations seen
As steadfast and serene.
Strong champion of the Arts,
She played so many parts,
Although our mourning starts,
She’ll live on in our hearts.
She counselled countless politicians,
Showed a loving disposition,
‘Service not self’ remained her position,
The Christian faith, her life-long mission.
She walked with the rich;
She talked with the poor;
She re-formed a nation
Broken by war.
Her Christmas messages
And kaleidoscopic dresses
Gave us hope,
Took away our distresses.
Above all, though she led our nation
She stayed down to earth, our special relation.
Now her train has left our station
We offer our humble adulation.
We thank you for our Queen,
For all that she has been!
By generations seen
As steadfast and serene.
Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 3:28 PM UTC
on the adrenalin of popularity they thrive
it pumps within their veins so inflated
if there were none they'd not survive
an accolade won't make them feel deflated
they've got to receive all the bolstering
it pumps within their veins so inflated
always gathering plaudits for a holstering
which brings unto them that air of rise
they've got to receive all the bolstering
the supporter base not going into demise
devotees keeping the pulse throbbing swell
which brings unto them that air of rise
to be the premier acts in a long spell
falling out of favour they'll not easily tolerate
devotees keeping the pulse throbbing swell
much adulation ever liking to slate
falling out of favour they'll not easily tolerate
on the adrenalin of popularity they thrive
if there were none they'd not survive
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
The screeching sound of the metal tin can,
Pulls up around the corner of desperation.
Hair flying, adulation from fans,
You know its nothing but imagination.
Howls from inside echo through the sheet,
Music to the ears, and she gobbles it like nectar.
The door opens, and you're looking at her feet,
"Don't move, lest it should fester."
She speaks in an exotic tongue,
Like the animals in the wild.
She places a strong hand on your lung,
While your breathing goes mild.
The tool, ah yes, the tool,
She wields it like a paintbrush.
"Sit still, you pretty fool.",
She spouts, with an excited gush.
The lion's face peers at you,
From the far side of the room.
While a peculiar broth begins to brew,
And a dark mist begins to loom.
The rhino looks helpless on the wall,
Its horn standing out in the line.
" Oh, be calm you sweet little doll,
This should do just fine."
You can smell the taste of the wax,
And breathe in its visual splendor.
While her pleasure has reached its max,
Through the willing gifts, you lend her.
At last, its done and dusted,
And your face adorns the wall.
Wondering how on earth she could be trusted,
But alas! You cannot resist the caravan's call.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC
starlet of the silver screen
crafted herself to display the power of her beauty
and practiced in the art of visual seductions
she desires to be intoxicating
to move men to noble heights without saying a word
to ****** the hearts of men with just a smile
to be center stage in the brilliant light of adulation
her craft allows her to be anyone she wants
princess or pauper
a master of her craft she is every man's dream
she is true beauty
at the height of her career
a hollywood starlet
an american goddess
the love affair daydream of every fanboy
i look into those velvet eyes
and see all that ever could have been
all things ever desired
she's a starlet of the silver screen
woman boldly striking a seductive pose
assured and strong
true beauty
american goddess
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
I think some R here
For Adulation
Not merily
Concocked Expajulation
But Rather 2
Find Some Praise
2 Their Creations
2 fullfill
Some Sensation
That Their TIME
Spent With ***********
Was Something MORE
Then Emancupation
4 ALL of U
I GIVE
adulation
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 1:55 AM UTC
You, photo sharing
pop-up rhymester
a one-day glory
for a full-time jester?
is that all you’ve got?
exulting in adulation
of ‘up thumb’ display
painstaking toil
for a chirpy convey
much bother for naught
go away from that evil
a rectangular cage
a duality so curbing
too daunting to assuage
surely, not asking a lot!
banter a bit, out of the cage
break her reckless grind
a cursed double-life
no cage to hide behind!
it wasn’t what she thought!
mother’s day isn’t just a day
it is your lifetime, borrowed
moment by moment
nourished and hallowed
a vicarious life – don’t let it rot!
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Prepare to be entranced
by symphonic sounds
acuity and beauty
displays of pique
explosions of profanity
evocative waves
of love and adulation
restrained tones
profound as shadows
crossing a motionless road.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
She said ,"If you don't love me any more I'd understand ."
WHAT ?
WHAT !
I wouldn't understand if I didn't love you !
Love you forever !
Humph ! Here I wake up thinking about your ******* , while they may be small I'm sure they are large in enthusiasm . And I would like to kiss them to find out .
Ummmmmmmm ! . . . yes they do taste good . And they vibrate with life , teasing my lips with a tingling sensation that causes me to lick my lips , wanting more .
And now you say I don't love you ?
Nor would it surprise you if I didn't ?
You must be the ballerina who tiptoes through life to the applause and adulation of a cheering mass only to doubt it's sincerity .
Oh me ! My manners have flown the nest !
Good morning ! How are you !
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
Your use of words
of late, I have noticed,
seize the cold light of day
snowball the pack ice
send a shudder down the spine
hail the dawn of an audible ice age
lest if only
One would listen
that loquacious nature
left to stew in the freezer
the embodiment of toxic wine
your preferred after taste;
the sediment of choice
demands a selective palate
we have bulldozed
The Garden of Eden
now only the Snake remains
offering the bitter-sweet apple
to those who oblige
pave the way for emotions
to argue their objections
a subjective nature
in acerbic tones
fierce and unwavering;
the adulation of the Other
A raised eyebrow
denotes a self-centred assuredness
that anyone else
with a deft hand for art or language
is clearly a copy of the blueprint
your ingenious creation;
such is the intellect you abide by
that of your own reckoning
Your argument
is the passing of an iceberg
perhaps fleeting
the early evening;
the disingenuous melt
of your carbon-cloaked temper
My riposte
will be your undoing
defeat by the warmth
of the passing Sun;
embrace that which you chase
see what you dont see
agree to disagree
is the sympathy
for your antipathy
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
she paints amazing paintings,
she writes beautiful poems,
she sings wonderful lyrics,
she dances fantastic choreography.
except there's a little twist to this
incredible artist-
she paints amazing paintings on her body,
she writes beautiful poems in the form of tears,
she sings wonderful lyrics from the desolate part of her heart,
she dances fantastic choreography by the demons shadowing her soul.
she doesn't know reality from dreams or imaginations,
she doesn't know what real happiness is; just plastered smiles,
she doesn't know if it's genuine care or just adulation,
she doesn't know anything anymore,
all that she knows now is
pure
dark
s a d n e s s
and she can't escape.
(a.p)
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
The girl I have been longing for is so many miles away in my soul
but in my heart shes right next to me
she is like a dove flying through the mid morning sky
i try to find her through my vulnerable soul
but alas only through my ever awakening heart
I am able to find her through the stars
i see her ever glowing with such a magnificent color
that it is irresistible to the eye of man
she is my muse ever singing along with such grace in my waking dreams
she is the flame that fills my heart
with such passion and adulation
come back to me now
oh sweet dove come back to me
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC