"advocated" poems
that over millenia
major religions have advocated peace
their adherents have been slaughtering each other
supposedly in the name of their assorted gods
more than any other known species
why is it
that in my maturity
(which people usually call old age ...)
I‘m getting so ****** off
with politicians who seem not to see
the obvious solution to a problem
but find elaborate fake excuses
just so they can get re-elected
why is it
that for Europe it‘s so difficult
to find a way for refugees to be accepted
with respect and dignity
why is it
that the USA apparently forgets it‘s been the country
living off its (il)legal immigrants for centuries
and now simply ignores the words
they put onto their Statue of Liberty
why is it?!??
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
She was crying.
So he approached
to lessen the anguish,
her life has notched
He exchanged her tears
with his cozy smile;
to calm down her nerves
at least for a while.
The language of tears
has always appealed him;
as to the insects,
the sundew's gleam.
Innate was this nature of his
to weep for the poor,
for the women, for the children
and for the downtrodden, to be sure.
But with hollow chauvinism
then, the men ruled the society.
And accounted weeping as a sin
resulting from inferiority.
They disliked the boy
and his uncommon ways
to heal the sufferer,
to their utter dismay.
They called the boy
and asked him to change
his beliefs and ideology
or to be ready to estrange.
The boy couldn't understand
how his actions have been
outrageous in their view
and thus sentenced as a sin.
He stood against them
and let the proposal decline.
He advocated his logic
to those ****** swine.
But their ears were concealed
to even the rumbling thunder.
Intoxicated by masculinity
they committed blunder.
The men enraged
and reached for their knives.
They shouted, they cursed
and skinned him alive.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
You love hearing.
You love seeing.
You love smelling.
You love feeling.
You even love the taste of life,
Bold statements arise: pentagon built pyramids; hexagram built light…
I’m speaking subtlety’s; the space between five and six,
Like that star David from CSI;
Eleven mirror, twelve depicts,
If they’re in prison, it was because of common sense,
If you’re successful, universe says you were dependent on the sixth…
We’ll acknowledge foundations as Gravity, Although they reflect;
Time as tragedy,
Too low to connect;
Space to one; a division within;
I’m thinking maybe this trinity could project a web,
Gravity is the outcome of manifestations existing;
Creativity transmuting energy that’s coexisting in a space in which polarities consisting,
Space is the frame that’s assisting;
A geometrical web full of light that infinitely splits simultaneously while it’s energy is shifting,
Time is the perception of distance between manifestations, it’s the same as predicting,
It doesn’t exist until it exists,
That’s a matter of apathetic wishing,
“He’s an oxymoron…”
We fear the unusual,
But we can’t possibly be normal,
That’s actually abnormal,
When we conform to others idealism, our realities become harmful,
Earlier I advocated that space is full,
If you’re pushing space in your own gravity, displacement will leave your mind full; time-poor,
Love yourself, because you love your five senses,
No need for senseless for it is why we sense-less before more,
That doesn’t mean closed door,
It means your time is poor;
How can you be of wealth if you’re missing idealism,
In such a situation you’re obligated to war;
Be informed, be young, belong life,
Disconform, keep ***** on your side,
Obliterate, reiterate, polarize,
You must know thyself before you know the sky.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
It was a scam, a sham
The flimmiest of flams
There was more pork there
Than a Christmas ham.
It’s nothing but a racket
Stuff it all into a big packet
And put into a time capture
Leave it until the rapture
Where it can’t hurt anybody
Then, fix yourself a hot toddy
And laugh about how shoddy
Future folks will think we are.
They won’t be wrong by far.
They’ll marvel at how many
Candidates worth a penny,
Or less, showed up to run
Like the whole thing was fun
And better than a TV show.
How could they tumble for
Not that good of a governor
Didn’t know what lips are for
Or what to say on the floor
Yet some wanted her to run?
What fun the press had with
Filling up the internet bandwidth
With screeching permutations
Of tired old KKK reiterations
Of the wonderful Aryan nation
The South advocated before
We had us a big-ass ugly war.
It’s like they didn’t know they lost
And were prepared to pay the cost
To do it all over again, not just men
But women too, who shouldn’t do
Because they were not part of
The government to be started up.
It was rather Alice In Wonderland,
The fuzzy details of their whole plan.
Certain things were carved in stone.
Some should go back to an age of stone
And forever leave the real people alone.
Because they’d shout out now and then
That this world was meant for white men
To run and control and own. Nothing tribal.
They said it was written in their Bible
Which was obvious they never really read
Or they would know what it really said
About helping the poor, the halt and lame.
They went on doing harm in the name
Of the King of Passion and Rescue
Saying that was the wrong thing to do.
They insisted they could do what pleases
And it should have nothing to do with Jesus.
It’s all about who is rich and who is not
And who doesn’t need what they have got:
All the good land and the mineral rights.
The rest can just stay up nights working
Two jobs, maybe three, they didn’t care.
Those pundits had to start somewhere.
Let those dishwashers and caddies
Go get their own filthy rich daddies
To leave them accounts full of millions
So they could hire undocumented millions
To build their dynasties of marble and gold.
Really, folks. This story never gets old.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
This is for Bartee
Who's in heaven hopefully
Dropping pearls of wisdom
Like only he could give 'em
When people started buggin'
He advocated huggin'
More huggin' less muggin' he said
Now he's dead
For him it was essential
To use his poet-tential
And everybody knew
He always had a poem or two
This is for Bartee, who inspired me
This is for Bartee
Who will always be a living memory
The D-Train poet, who could really flow it
This is for Bartee, who lives inside of me
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
Instead of a work of fiction
Writing of fantasy or addiction
I chose to write about me instead.
About something I thought was better left unsaid.
They said I was confused, that I misunderstood
Is this what it means to enter adulthood?
It means we’re punished for being open?
Or having to pretend we were just joking?
I wasn’t a child, I was eighteen years old.
Now I carry it, it comes back around, like the flu or a cold
When it’s someone you know
Someone you should be able to trust, where do you even go?
We live in a world where men think being accused
Is the same as being sexually abused.
Where if a woman says something, she’s just lighting a fuse.
But I’m starting a fire because I’m sick of living in hues of gray.
I don’t want to sit back and pretend I didn’t lose something
And then I turn on the tv and feel sick if I watch the news
I see we live in a society where we teach girls to protect themselves
We tell them to make sure he rapes a different girl, not you.
One in three women they say, make sure it’s not you.
And when we speak up, we’re told he won’t be punished.
So why bother saying anything at all?
We’re told we won’t be believed.
Well not today, not for me.
I’m tired of somedays, and maybe they’ll see.
We live in a world where girls clothes are regulated
To make sure it’s the boys who are educated.
We tell our girls their cases won’t be advocated
That boys will be boys, and their comfort is overrated.
You’re homophobic because you don’t want
To be treated the way you treat women
And then you don’t want to be the villain
Catcalling us on the streets
But what if it was your daughter, your mother, your niece?
Defending yourself, saying we can’t take a compliment
And we have no choice but silence when you’re dominant.
You walk down the street without a care
But we worry we’ll be trapped in some nightmare
Make sure it isn’t you.
She’ll always be more drunk, showing more skin, be more alone
And when you say nothing, you don’t even realize you condone it
When you say she was drunk, it was her fault,
You’re blaming a victim, letting him get away,
And you’re saying it wasn’t really an assault
You say if it was your daughter, you’d **** them
Don’t you care what the other daughters will become?
I won’t be silenced,
Not in the face of this violence
Not when a boy can **** a girl and get three months
Where they can sit back and call us ****** and *****
Not when he can ‘grab em by the *****
But if I say something, they’ll just shoot me down or call me pushy.
I’m tired of meaning nothing
I’m tired of them thinking touching
Without permission is their given right
Instead of something that is literally disgusting.
This poem demands to be spoken,
And I refuse to be broken.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
Modern day heretic
With death filled eyes
Hand stroking long black beard
Sipping ambrosia tea of aniline
Smoking rolling snorting his pleasure
Speaking on Lenin, Watts, and the price of heaven
He offers nothing, slips of LSD
His mind a traveler, the smell of burnt almonds is everything
Ask him if he has ever advocated for the overthrow of God
He will coyly smile, and politely nod
Yogic Tantric, naked downward dog
In the morning, he salutes the sun
Christian, Buddhist, he accepts not one
Yet he will quote Jesus and the Dalai Lam
Born again, always dead, rock n’ roller
Passing through the karmic gates of fire
Going out where politicians fear to tread
Drinking whiskey with the devil, eating mushroom heads
He wears his hair long, despite what the moneyed men say
Not for glory, not for fame, not for one care who remembers his name
He only bows to the wind, that truth eternal
The bronze gong shatters
He knows he is mortal
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
A kindred spirit laughed and played
As birch trees whispered while they swayed
The wind caressed their hanging jewels
It flirted coyly with her news
A change occurred
The clock struck 12
This turning point, a new event
The time to open up and delve
Into a life of uncertainty
An adventure beyond reality
There, beneath the glittered sky
Beyond the memories of her cry
Slipped in a choice
So bold, so rough
It's presence penetrated
It advocated
Her deepest most hidden truth
The plank ran out
The end had come
An end to living in a sleep
the hour to awake and reap
Her life away, to new beginnings
To new dreams
All that was left,
A final stare into the deep
Her ****** of the closing leap
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
When emotions run deep there is often confusion about the reality of the given situation and we question the validity of our reactions.
But this doesn't mean that there are situations where the reality isn't real, it's just that it is more difficult to determine and choose the correct reaction.
We are influenced by our cultural and our perceived needs, this can be dangerous but also exciting and can provoke extremely strong reactions.
Caution is advocated from our logical mind but emotionally we welcome the chance of some pleasurable action that satisfies our perceived needs.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 4:48 AM UTC
Specks of electroluminescent sand leave third degree burns on the abysmal beach.
Driftwood, like messages in bottles, rolls up on the banks.
From Washington? From San Juan? From the British Columbia mainland? Or have they all drifted in from the riot of the Pacific theater? They roll up without complaint of the commotion they no doubt suffered on their journey from wherever, to in front of our feet.
Deteriorated, rotten and rancid
But unbreakable nonetheless.
We have no choice but to build something, because the advocated creative coincidence that just occurred leaves no room for complacency.
It's cold, but we all have homes,
It's wet, but we all have clothes.
The Scouts that we are
Our eyes roll back in unison, as the waves of Cadboro Bay crash, and the wind breezes through the cracks of our collective pride.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Circa Holy Roman Empire
between ninth
and thirteenth century
after common era
(approximately 800 AD and 1200 AD)
benchmark year 780 bracketed
Benedictine monks
of Corbie Abbey
devised cheeky guttural lingual rapartee
vis a vis European
calligraphic standard script inked lined
writ via extant Irish and English monastic
members nsync
strong influence of Irish literati
eased communication
popular Latin cognoscenti
common lingua franca
spawned Carolingian Renaissance
Codices, pagan and Christian text
plus educational material
written viz Carolingian minuscule
Emperor Charlemagne issued prescription
(hence named Carolingian)
boosted unified modus operandi
he advocated learning,
though somewhat illiterate
recognized value of education
predicated on singular
codified regional alphabet,
the then webbed wide world
linkedin, sans uniform symbolic shapes
uncontested salient advantage
offered up ease to master
clear distinct explicit letter formation
simple logic boosted
rapidly transmitted standardization,
especially with exceptional legible
readable characteristic
adequate spaces between words
Merovingian "chancery hand"
still reserved to draft traditional charters
Gothic and Anglo Saxon
favored traditional local script
as opposed to Latin
learning latter involved less tricked out
embellished flourishes
or interconnected strokes
drawn by a scribe
allowing, enabling, and providing
greater popularity to teach masses,
latent etymological nuances apparent
centuries following implementation
quasi initial Carolingian letters
steadfast, where Carolingian
influence moats strong
adopted local stylistic signature flavor
divergence woke since proliferation
stoking diffuse prospects
decreeing entrenched footing,
where auspices boded prescient
until groundswell didst surcease
sub limb mated into modern patois.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
Patriotism these days is sonething of a damning schism
Because people think you're supposed to love your country blindly and not offer opinions or criticism
Now through this piece I might ruffle feathers and hairs I might split them
But i have a point to get a across so please listen
Now first let's address the problem of racism
It's been a long time coming but I've got a lot of thoughts to be written
First off, I'm all for being proud of your heritage and knowing your roots
And I'm all for knowing your family history and being proud like an army troop
But every time I hear someone say "the black panthers were racist" or "all lives matter" I really have to stop myself from ruining their day
The black panthers were a pro Black group in a time were thar term almost didn't exist
When being black was enough to get you killed by anyone who was a trigger happy half wit.
Secondly, you claim because they supported black power they were racist.
Well they advocated for black power when blacks had no power, and it's with ease I can say this.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
I sold the one thing I should not,
Some thing I had not.
I traded nothing, in exchange for
writing my own life's script.
I was instantly granted
each and every wish;
I corrosively imagined
I had seen through the mist.
When I found out that
who I advocated was
what's in the details,
I stole the one thing I should,
What I had sold.
Since that meant
I'd steal nothing,
I got back my soul.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 10:55 PM UTC
The Devil softly spoke,
To the foolish earthly folk:
By idiocy you are enslaved,
Your morals are depraved.
Set your souls free,
For I proudly foresee -
With might, you may reign
And without masks of vain.
You will be saved from emotional pain,
You won’t have a reputation to maintain,
Worldly pleasures will be yours to obtain,
Treasures will be easy to maintain.
You just have to set yourself free,
You must set yourself completely free!
Free from rotten morals of progress,
From the false virtues of the virtueless.
...the Devil advocated for his ways,
Who he deemed fitting for our days.
And while it might sound repulsive,
This is also a preposition compulsive.
Now I speak: the world is doomed,
By its own idiocy, it is consumed.
The morals had gone wrong and vile
Ancient virtues are out of style!...
Ergo hear me and set free,
For I too proudly foresee -
With vigour, you shall reign
If you drop the masks of vain.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
When you see so much injustice going against you.
Just fight on.
Strive to be the best within your own heart.
Just fight on.
God see all injustice that's wrong.
No one upon this earth can say they righteous.
Even when we mixed within them in a crowd.
So fight on-for the less fortunate
Yes, fight on-like Mayfield's keep on pushing song.
You might get tired.
But advocated do.
You might face threats from all sides coming after you.
Just remember to fight on.
Curtis Mayfield, would say, fight on.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 5:43 PM UTC
The world still doesn't care about girls.
We still tell them to shout fire.
We still tell them that they will be called a liar.
We say your shoulders are distracting
And we tell you that you're overreacting
That your learning is less important than his.
Why don't we tell our boys that girls are not objects to play with
That this isn't something you'll get away with
And have it be true
The world still doesn't care about girls
They said I was confused, that I misunderstood
Is this what it means to enter adulthood?
It means we're punished for being open?
Or having to pretend we were just joking?
I wasn't a child, I was eighteen years old.
Now I carry it, it comes back around, like the flu or a cold
When it's someone you know
Someone you should be able to trust, where do you even go?
We live in a world where men think being accused
Is the same as being sexually abused.
Where if a woman says something, she's just lighting a fuse.
But I'm starting a fire because I'm sick of living in hues of gray.
I don't want to sit back and pretend I didn't lose something
And then I turn on the tv and feel sick if I watch the news
I see we live in a society where we teach girls to protect themselves
We tell them to make sure he rapes a different girl, not you.
One in three women they say, make sure it's not you.
The world still doesn't care about girls
And when we speak up, we're told he won't be punished.
So why bother saying anything at all?
We're told we won't be believed.
Well not today, not for me.
I'm tired of somedays, and maybe they'll see.
We live in a world where girls clothes are regulated
To make sure it's the boys who are educated.
We tell our girls their cases won't be advocated
That boys will be boys, and their comfort is overrated.
You're still to blame because you don't want
To be treated the way you treat women
And then you don't want to be the villain
Catcalling us on the streets
But what if it was your daughter, your mother, your niece?
Defending yourself, saying we can't take a compliment
And we have no choice but silence when you're dominant.
The world still doesn't care about girls
You walk down the street without a care
But we worry we'll be trapped in some nightmare
Make sure it isn't you.
The world still doesnt care about girls
She'll always be more drunk, showing more skin, be more alone
And when you say nothing, you don't even realize you condone it
When you say she was drunk, it was her fault,
And you're saying it wasn't really an assault
I won't be silenced,
Not in the face of this violence
Not when a boy can **** a girl and get three months
Where they can sit back and call us ****** and *****
Not when he can 'grab em by the pussy'
But if I say something, they'll just shoot me down or call me pushy.
I'm tired of meaning nothing
I'm tired of them thinking touching
Without permission is their given right
And how dare we try to fight
The world still doesn't care about girls
My words demands to be spoken,
And I refuse to be broken.
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 1:52 PM UTC
Clear skies
straight out the woods
Birds will advocated for joy
its misunderstood
I dig deep
deep..
deep down inside
Pull out everything i felt for you and toss it aside
Watch my heart decompose
watch the sun rise again
Watch the leaves flutter down
wish to die yet again
Angels blessing my mind
devils clutching my spine
Iv been running forever
but their always behind
Air adorning the lands
curse the gods for this grievance
As you slip through my hands..
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 8:21 AM UTC
I wanted to be a man,
Some idea of something supportive;
Instead, I became assertive;
Father said stretch my hand, and for some reason I advocated my ideology as if it contained some type of importance,
My song is killing her; his-tory chorus,
I apologize for believing in abundance when there is clearly a shortage...
I’ve had thoughts that were heaven sent,
I lost mom to life, nothing is relevant,
I wanted elegance, to express truth to those that were ready to jump; Although I myself was hesitant;
Heaven is this hell I’m living in,
Received the message through intelligence; two realities that were evident,
Something only the psyche and intellect can represent,
This is life, and I’m accepting it,
What is Love... if we are not Respecting appropriation,
Pain and pleasure? Guilty by association,
Why ratify a foundation if communication isn’t a consideration when we’re speaking on things like integration, relations, and revelations?
That logic is ill to me,
That arithmetic; if plugged in...
It means we **** to be,
And actions are assertive if responsive, exerting energy for purpose to ensure that your reality is one that is free,
If we know this, then why is it so hard to be?
Why is so hard breathe; believe...
I want to be a man...
Someone who’s assertive with emotion and receptive with intellect,
I don’t want to be detrimental when beauty dances with the devil and I’m brought into a reality in which I can’t protect,
I want to be one that serves and reflect,
Grow as he humbly respect,
Know as he openly accept,
Hope with faith over indulging in concepts that pertain to the term expect...
I am that, conceived it, conceded, I’ll be it.
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 12:34 AM UTC
I need to make my point
as the most righteous of them all.
But the stairway towards my soapbox
is made of living people.
Ten steps, each step a taller pile
of people I must trample
to make my point.
I take the first on an older man
as the bones of his spine crack against
the rubber padding of my florsheim shoes.
The next upon a pile of women weeping.
One of them is pregnant, so I make sure
to avoid their swollen, plump belly
as I step upon their face.
The third, a bunch of teenage boys
as I trample through their necks.
The poor, the sick, the needy,
the mentally ill, the dead, the pleading.
As I climb those stairs with solemn righteousness,
I see the final one.
Propped like fate, it's me
upon a pile made of my own family.
It shocked me to know that they had walked this path before,
and when they finished
they fell and piled down to help me make
an even taller soapbox for myself.
Nothing had changed. It hit me then.
What I advocated for, was only to keep things the same.
I accepted my fate, and took that final step.
Aren't I brave?
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
Freedom of speech is a gift Uncle Sam gave to everyone.
This beautiful gift allows equal expressions and something even grander..
Having a choice...
To learn from what is being taught
To speak up for yourself in defense for yourself and your loved ones.
To write beautiful poetry and written novels for the masses...
Having the power to use this gift in ways that benefit...
Never loosely spilling words of hate ....
Nor advocated violence in twisted cult classes.
Beauty is in everyone.
Such I love to see shared.
Not just silently.....to the world around them.
For one selflessly well guided and helpful word can
mean a violent act, to a community, can be spared.
Words can hurt. So I believe.
We were given a gift..... let us share such for the greater good.
Let the hearts that need such a voice be spoken for and be mended...
Through a kind message, all the violence will end.
Simply by using Uncle Sam's gift by giving gifted and helpful speech back to our communities, instead of remaining quiet, and simply receiving.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC