A loose handed emblem,
of folded thoughts,
Loss is weaponized in enchanted red,
Wrongs corrected stemming from the
blissful bare signed gawky individuals.
Homage backtracked and renounced
Barely earnest calls for a curious fathom-ability
Heaven bound birdlike shadows,
Bright light gagged and janky,
Found little finger blood tacked to the earth.

The Hanbleceya.
The cry for a vision.
The Vision Quest.
The space between worlds.
In the presence of the Great Mystery.
I went down to the fire,
and she, the self I aim to be,
was not there.
I became her.
And maybe just for that moment on my blanket because I needed to be her.
She is on the eternal quest.
Forever in search,
forever seeking.
That magic I was hoping for did not emerge in the way I believed it would...
I let instead the Earth, and only her,
hear my screams.
Hear some deep agony within me,
maybe not even completely of my own.
Maybe the ancestral pains of the women who carried lives before me.
Red is the road to my heart,
is the color that bled out of me on the way up.
Dripping prayers down my legs,
each step became even more sacred.
Together, we sang our warrior song.
They are my amor, my comfort, my shelter, my warmth.
But on your blanket in your circle of prayers,
there is only you and the Creator.
You and the Great Mystery.
You and your fears, your pains, your demons.
You and your truths, your reasons, your prayers.
It is your choice whether to feed to thirst and hunger in your head,
or the hunger in your soul.
There is no greater pain than a soul not enacting its purpose,
its duty, its agreement with the Divine.
No greater pain.
And those screams that emerged from me,
from depths vast and deep,
was everything I ever let block me.
When we are broken open,
when we cry that deep soul cry,
we are breaking to let love and truth in,
we are watering our gardens.
So what magic am I believing was not present?
A vision may have not been shown to me,
but the courage of a single moment was.
To decide to not shut my eyes,
but to pray.
To offer compassions back to the Earth and take less for myself.
To not **** a single mosquito,
but rather walk off that blanket four days later marked with their persistence.
I watched their points enter my flesh
and saw their bodies fill with my blood.
Maybe they were extracting from me all that I no longer need.
And what itch is worse?
That of a red bump,
or that of the soul's need to incessantly scratch through its flesh suit to get to the core of its truth?
There were hours upon hours I let myself fall silent.
Listened to the sound of the woodpecker,
watched the spider crawl,
saw the turkey run.
They know how to be at home here.
And it is nothing grand that they do,
but they understand their purpose and place and they do not strive to feed and ego.
They do not "Ease God Out."
They are of God,
they are a God of their own.
So how do I remove myself from all the ******* of this world
if I do not place my being into the womb of Creation and sit?
The layers strip down,
the sun rises and sets and does so again.
I began to know before the sky would lighten that the morning was coming soon just by the sounds of the forrest.
The great trees barely swayed and the Earth was uprooting.
What am I doing here?
The days were long and hard and filled with a frustrating buzzing in my ears.
Buzzing like all the nonsensical thoughts we have on a daily basis.
If only our ears would buzz and ring every time we had a thought that backtracked us from our truths
and the inherent love that is within our beings.
If only we had the persistence of the mosquito that does not,
will not stop until it is filled with the one nectar it was meant to live on.
There were moments of bliss and moments I felt anxiety bubble up within.
Such a rare form of myself,
a piece of me I do not know too well.
I wanted to crawl out of my skin and be gone.
Be wind, be ether, be smoke.
Be gone.
And then they came,
bearing compassion.
Just a single sip of water.
Just a little.
They handed me that cup and I just cried.
Cried from the depths of my being.
"Do I even deserve this?"
And I let some moments pass,
held that cup in my hands and prayed in the form of tears.
That water,
that precious gift bearing life,
it touched my lips and made its way into my being.
And all become calm.
I am here for a purpose,
on this blanket, I mean.
I am here and meant to be no where but here.
And gently they spoke of the 6 pointed white star flowers surrounding me.
Not to me,
but a message for me.
A reminder of the beauty all around,
if I would only just look.
There I was,
sitting upon the hands of Creation.
If I had just stopped to listen,
stopped to breathe,
maybe I would have understood that on my own.
But that is why we tie that red prayer hung to our Ancestors.
He said,
"that prayer is your reminder to come back."
So for the next 360 days until I sit upon my blanket again,
the only prayer is to remember what I learned on that Mountain.
To remember what a blessing it is to drink a sip of water,
to be alone,
to look not into the eyes of another,
but only see the beauty of Creation.
I went out there wanting to be silent.
To just listen to what the world had to speak to me,
to shut out the voice in my head,
but there were moments that I could not hold back the words and prayers from my throat,
moments I needed to send my voice up or else I swore I would get up off that blanket and just walk away.
Moments I swore I would have filled the Earth with my screams again.
And when I spoke,
it was with such softness.
Maybe to not disrupt the frequency that Mountain has known long before Creator ever chose that spot for me to pray.
Maybe because when I spoke I barely recognized my own voice.
Because when you speak to Creation,
it is the truest version of yourself whose voice rises up from the very depths of your soul.
This is the voice that Creator knows.
And I just need to say I'm sorry that if for any moment I used my voice not pray
or to talk myself back into my heart and out of my head.
I'm sorry if I wasted a single moment on that Mountain.
The minutes seem so long when you're out there,
but now as I'm back home,
I'm wishing I could have just a few moments back on my blanket.
That I could have just one more opportunity to pray.
I would say to the Creator my name,
I would say please help me because I am struggling.
Please help me because  just want to make the best out of my life.
Please help me because I want to make sure I am on the right path to my purpose.
Please help me because I never want to know a life without you,
without prayer, without this Red Road.
Just one more time I want to speak those truths and let my tears become offerings of myself to the Earth.
But that is why we tie that prayer in Red.
Because I can go back.
I will go back and again be given the holy space to send my voice up and pray,
to cry,
to fall into silence,
to watch the sun set and rise again.
And I can stop now and breath.
I can stop and close my eyes and be on my blanket.
I can smell the freshness of Earth and the copal cloud of smoke.
I can pray and cry with myself on that blanket,
because there is a piece of me that will always be there.

it has been over two years and i am proud of my growth. my main focus this year is to finish my grieving so that i may continue my life in an efficient manner.
the process of grieving is commonly known as, but not limited to:

denial
anger
bargaining
depression
acceptance

my denial proces:
many times the easiest way to get over trauma is to repress it. i was 15 when i was ra ped. legal age of consent is 16. he was 18. i was naive, and could not imagine the man i loved doing that to me. i believed that it was an accident and neither of us knew what was right or wrong. I had assumed that because i had previously given him my body, he was able to ignore my pleads to stop this time. i blamed myself more than i blamed him, and he blamed me. i had been so infatuated with him that i had pushed away the people who cared most about me. when i told them about being ***** our bond was already so far gone that they could not feel anything more than pitty. i was terrified of losing him, so i convinced us both it was an accident. ra pe is no accident.

through denial became anger:
i became genuinely angry for the first time in my life. i was angry at him for being somebody that i had trusted and loved. angry that i had let this happen to myself. angry that i had no strength nor respect to stand up for myself. if i had told him to stop one more time he would have. i understand now that i should not have had to say no more than once. i was angry because i let myself down, but I’m more angry that i could not blame him. being angry was the easiest part of grieving. it is okay to he angry.

bargaining is a toxic healing method:
i became really good at bargaining with myself. after he was gone i had begun to understand my emotions, but i could not control them. my fear of more being taken from me fed my overcompensation. i began to give my body away, so that it could not be taken. it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. my body is not meant to be given nor taken.

depression hit hard:
i began to reflect on all of the points in my life that had lead me to this one. i became close to restarting the grieving process. i spent a long portion of the depression stage in denial. then i was angry that i had backtracked to the beginning. i had more meaningless se x that i now regret more than anything. i saw how good his life had been going and how poorly mine was. it was obvious that i needed help.

acceptance:
this entire passage was my process to acceptance. i reached out to my therapist. i made new friends. i stopped wallowing in self pity and i began to recover. i stopped begging to forget my flaws and began to forgive them.

Lost in a void of darkness mentally and stuck in a box physically. Mentally I try to answer the question of all questions but get backtracked from feelings coming through and common sense out the window. What's
in store at the end of the tunnel ? Is there gold in the end or just a mental trap ?

We say that we should take care of Mother Nature,
yet we destroy it in every hauntingly way possible.

We say that we shouldn't judge others by how they look,
yet we call them names and make them feel insecure.

We say that we should be nice towards others and to treat others with equality,
yet we backstab people behind their backs.

We say that we should love ourselves more as we love others,
yet we carry the scars that are like our clothes we wear daily.

We say that we should be thankful of what we have,
yet we take advantage of every kindness given at an open door.

We say that we should educate the future generations,
yet we are the ones to poison their mind with all inhumane acts.

We say that we should go back to things before technology were everyone's life,
yet we are attached and no one seems to leave their gadgets and making oral conversations.

We say that we should make a big difference,
yet we are so backtracked of what our surrounding seems to be.

Letters A and B were supposed to meet that night,
But letter C got in the way.
Letter C knew what he was doing,
With that twisted smile of his.
As did letter B,
Who watched them with jealousy,
Knowing that letter A should've been his.
Letter A fell in love with C,
As the story goes.
However, they weren't meant to last,
As everybody now knows.
Letter C didn't quite feel the same,
And soon backtracked,
To his rightful place in the alphabet.
Which isn't next to letter A,
But after letter B,
And directly next to his sweet letter D.

So, what became of letter B, you ask?
Well, letter A and B finally met up.
Can you believe it?
A perfect match!
And so, now everything is in order.
Letter A is with letter B,
Letter B is best friends with C,
And C is with his true love, letter D.
Isn't it funny how everything works out?
Now everyone is happy,
Without a doubt.
But every now and then,
Letter A wonders if there's any chance that the alphabet may get mixed up again.

I wish that you believed in love, so then maybe you could see the love I have to give. Like a trap star, I got so much I sell the ****. But nobody wants it, all having been scorned by the one before. So I'm sellin mine in bulk at a discounted rate- lacking conversation and maybe a second date. Always only half invested, I keep having to get myself tested to see if something's love or lust, and always saying "In God I trust" but trust less in the dollar bills that are leaving people unfulfilled like a bad trip on a half *** stash. Like a ****** out of rehab, you swore off love because her lies tied the belt around your arm as her breath fueled the fire of her kisses that cooked and were injected into you veins, that was the only pain you knew of love. Left strung out on the bathroom floor your hopes and dreams went down the drain along with your hope that you'd get another hit of her. Her love was your drug and it turned into addiction- a daily procedure, she'd tell you lies of pride and leave you alone to seizure. You checked yourself in to the nearest center for rehabilitation and you made gettin clean your obligation..
I'm sitting here wondering if there's any hope for a relapse cause you've seemed to have swept off my feet and I'm standing on my kneecaps. I'm not saying I want you to fall back to the track of what backtracked you, but the feeling that comes when something you're in is the truth. I want to be your natural high. Trippin off life and all the little things. Let me hold your hand so can feel the beat of my heart pulsing through your veins. I don't wanna make you blind, I just want to open your heart so you don't see the end before the **** ever starts. That was my problem too, but I had to live in the moment. I knew that they'd be gone, I just couldn't have shown it. I just want to make you breathless, remove your fear like articles of clothing and shed this...
They say if you want to stay alive, don't get high on your own supply... unless of course you sharin- that's better, then you can get high together. John Legend said we on cloud 9 together. Let my kiss send you to another place while my hair that falls around you is the only way to find your way back. Lay me on my back and rest your head on my chest and exhale your stress. I'll inhale the lies and believe me when I tell you "everything's going to be aright". Everything's going to be alright.

I'm bored
Dead silence wife and kids
Are out visiting cousins
A sudden knock on the door
Ecolocated like bats do
The invasion was welcomed
With ***** and beer
Poker and aces
The joy on familiar faces
Memorials fantastic places
Nostalgia backtracked
Vinyls out crispy tunes
From high noon
To high moon
Friends run a cheery way
The magnificent seven
Lived to see another day

You won’t believe it
We were together
If only in my mind
And it led me to try things
I never thought of
It’s exciting, at the start
But then I turned and you were gone
I fell on the floor!
Afraid to go on
And I backtracked, to a non-existent circumstance
When we were together
I jogged in the summer heat
Gravel crackled under my shoes
But I felt it through the soles
And the sun shone on us both
It won’t do that again
Can you believe it?

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
wind on my face, hair back
grin on my face, getting backtracked.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
wind's there, no waving hair
moonlight off the skull, giving glare.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
stiff joints, drifting BMI
monotonous monochromatic life.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
colors faded, cinder remains
butterfly butchered, moth's reign.

Nameless was my friend from old times
His girlfriend young and lovely
She fell in love with my guy
And my guy killed Nameless

I was lost, realisation, trauma
So bad
My friend of old took me to the coast
It was her birthday and I fell asleep on the train

Half sleeping I, murdered Nameless came
He showed me white stones, big pebbles
Told me to build them by the sea
So that he could be free

We wandered by the sea
I think I spoiled her birthday
I could see no white stones
She went into a shop with the children
I sat on a bench in an old harbour wall

Then, a man with a child came walking by
He pushed the pram, child walked in front
Child was carrying a huge white pebble
Walked to me and threw it on the ground
At my feet

They passed by
I picked up the heavy pebble and looked around
Friend and children said where was it from
I said I don't know they came this way
We backtracked to where the heavy tides wash against the seawall

Carried them in our arms to the point where sea darkens sand
Built a hollow tower
A child wrote goodbye in the sand

Sitting until the sea came and washed it away
No-one touched it
Not even dogs
Not the seagulls who circled it
When it had gone I knew I had freed him

Everywhere you kissed, my skin burned
but, you quickly backtracked
and healed my skin with your hands.
I should’ve stopped and warned you
that it wasn’t okay for you to reopen wounds
that weren’t your fault
and then heal them all at once,
but everything was blurry and slurred.
I didn’t mind.

My heart and my mind constantly let me know
that they don’t enjoy being at war with each other.
I would like to relieve them,
but I don’t know who to let win.

(Please, don’t kiss me like that ever again.)
(I don’t know what I want.)

Here I find myself in grandpa’s new flat in Vancouver
Speaking in high English and making black Tea, He said
“It's always good to have company when I fear the world’s forgetting me”
The last time we made the trip, your wife saw naked apparitions on the roof
And fed the poodle chocolate and cheerios
Steaming like a chimney leaving
Smoke inside the bed linen,
But last year she had to leave
As her lost lover and world
Backtracked through the cavities in her fermented mind


For this, he sits in his arm chair by the home phone
Reading the newspaper with a seeing glass
Always waiting.
I like to think he doesn't dwell on the truth
But I can guess where he goes
When I hear old records play from his room

The day before, we visited Grandma Joyce in the ward
Where zombies wheeze and shuffle worn feet on the floor
She was displayed in her bed
In cold sterile light
Forgetting her blood and forgetting her sight

Her lips clacked open and squeaked,
“All these nice people came to see me
All these nice people came to see me
They stand in my room at night
And murmur like a chorus.
I think they want to **** me
And feast upon my dreams”
Lost, Lost and rambling, but
The guards confess that there are moments of clarity
Where she hurls her frame off the fence in twilight chanting “I need to go home”.

As the trip came to a close,
There was nothing we could do
Grandma has lost herself in the sepulcher or existence and
Her husband waiting for a resolve
He walked us to the lift and wailed like a baby to his child
“Just stay for me a bit longer, and make sure to come back.”
“We will be back soon.”
The door shifted and rang
And slowly shut faithful eyes that were never seen again

Lost in a void of darkness mentally and stuck in a box physically. Mentally I try to answer the question of all questions but get backtracked from feelings coming through and common sense out the window. What's
in store at the end of the tunnel ? Is there gold in the end or just a mental trap ?

By: Cedric McClester

Perhaps she just got
Too excited
Then said, “Finally
a great wrong got righted.”
Because the news
Made her delighted
Now ever since
She’s been slighted

‘Been talked about
On social media
She’s even cited
On Wikipedia
As often happens
When your mouth
Has defeated ya
And a negative response
Is what has greeted ya

Some think the clapback
Was too hard
For a person with the
Stature of a Phylicia Rashad
Since they’ve pulled
The “Me too” card
It’s as if she were
The Marquisa De Sade

Now she’s backtracked
And opened up her eyes
And to one and all
She’s apologized
Because of how
She’s been criticized
And even by some
She’s now despised

Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2021.  All rights reserved.

fingers hover over keys and
i am, as usual, lost for words.
i cannot write about thing things
that really matter.

but i think to myself
' i need healing,
and peace
and quiet '

but you will no give me any
even if you do not know it.

i read somewhere
' if you want to let go of someone
do these things' it said

write a list of the things you dislike about them

so here it is:

you're always late even when you're early.
in fact
i don't think i've ever seen you be early
what the hell do you do?
how can you consistently be late to
everything the same way i'm always early?

that's effort to be that unpunctual.

you never finish sentences
because you're bored or you forget
what you were saying

you refuse to remember to do something
out of laziness and carelessness
and you said
' my parents tried '
not hard enough.

you keep thought hidden and
you lie out of convenience.
saying you like it when people
aren't politically correct.

i think you're just too scared
to say some things yourself.

scared?
lazy?
or just weak?

i'm not sure. but i don't like it.

you only help me when i'm sinking
and you don't like the way it looks.

you only seek me out when you
haven't seen me in too long
and you stumble on your words.

you never mentioned her in months
until you did and never again.

you never say her name.
why don't you ever say her name?
if it hadn't come up, would you have ever said
' i have a girlfriend'

i know how your voice sounds
when you speak about your sister
and your mother
and your father.

i know you eat together as a family
and your sister hasn't been visiting that often.
i could see the resentment on your face
when you told me about it.

you don't like sweets or chocolate
you always order coffee the same as mine
you thought it was strange that i didn't like bread
but you didn't seem to mind.

you said
' she's going to sit there '
and
' you looked worried, so i followed '
and
' we can talk about this at lunch '
and backtracked when i asked
how were we going to talk at lunch?
you had it twice in the common area
and left.

you don't like to be touched or touch
but you touch my arm and i've touched you
you didn't flinch.

you follow me around the room and
whenever i show up to talk to him
somehow you always end up by his desk

i walk in and you get up, walk around the room
either avoiding me or running from me

checking to see if i'm coming out to smoke
(yes i saw)

i dislike that you're doing this.
i dislike that i don't mind it at all.

I guess now I’m good
There are people who will go to my funeral

People who remind me I’m a tree on a hill
giving shade to a dog, being home for a bird

I guess now I’m good
I tend to say all things tentatively

I guess I’m scared I’ll miss my parents
I guess I’m scared I’ll regret
rushing forward to my chosen lights
always choosing, always rushing

Scared to look down the trap of the past
so I keep running

Once I leave I am gone

I am going

My mother was right
to say I would go and stay going

Some steps cannot be backtracked,
some doors never reopened

Why does it feel like this door is forever closing?

I’m sorry I am short of breath for you
I’m sorry I want so badly to be somewhere else
I’m sorry you were right

I can see your ribs
Jacob's ladder holding your organs in tight
Count them up
Un deux trois
Cats on your socks
And the world on your shoulders

Are you a god that you can stand the weight of seven billion souls?

How many times have you seen night turn to day and back again?

You've got history stenciled into your skin
Your father's complexion and your mother's fingers
In a combination so significant that only the youth can relate
Hard to be, hard to grow
When your ancestors have already grown so tall behind you

Set down the planet for a while
Give it a good kick
Watch it roll
Time spun the wrong way
A million sunrises in a moment

Is this not better?
Teeth flashing in backtracked frowns
All the laughs before they happen

Jonah swallows the whale in this one

Maybe you should eat something too.

I find myself
without a rhythm
a lack of lyrics
back in a prison
I thought
I'd escaped out the back
but the fact is
I backtracked
back by my own volition
and wishing
on familiar chains
to be free of dusty days
deep breath
inhale
choke on hope
and blow