"baltimore" poems
This is America for Petes sake
Black lives don’t matter here
They say they’re being treated unfair
But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare
And we even pay for their health care
Poor black folk shouting black lives matter
But they don’t matter
The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter
Build a school or a jail?
In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail
Let’s not forget from whence we hail
We came from abroad to build this house
This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse
They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour
Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared
White people are only safe when white people are feared
When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared
The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow
Since then look how low our country did go
But at last at last now again we can make America great
Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free
Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me
When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee
When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be
You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die
You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling,
You’ll stand there you’ll cry
And then you’ll wonder why,
why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win
As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin,
ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in
This country was never your own
We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but
Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone
Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone
Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone
We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown
As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom
Cause you see freedom isnt free
We gained ours in 1776
Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me
Thinking that you’re free
But you will never be free
Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves
And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies
Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free
And that mere truth is the key
So we won’t say their names
We won’t feel their pains
Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
I had Joe Willie from jump. The Jets were off the chain
Baltimore benched Johnny U cause he knew the game. And played it too.
The AFL was full of bells and whistles.Speed kills
Three yards and a cloud of dust. Get real coach. We shootin rockets to da moon. High tops . Cmon pops.
Change the guard.
Them people ain't done nothing to me said Ali.
Da Nang ain't my thang. He was the greatest. Still is.
The Haight was great. Oh yeah Kent STATE.
1968. Open the gate to the house of the rising sun.
Joplin. And Jimmy. Marvin and Tammy.
The Doors and Hair. ****** in the air
What rhymes with Agent Orange...... Nothing.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
I'd heard about problems with police
hard to hear harder to believe
personally I never had a problem
oh a few well deserved speeding tickets
probably cut a break no definitely
I drove very fast especially in the turns
roll-the-tires fast in the turns
that was me
and the more I heard the faster I turned
as a young kid I applied and was accepted
to six colleges six for six piece of cake
why the stress my SAT score equated
to an I.Q. of 1 above plant life
accepted open arms those WASPs loved me
graduate school one for one
best in the country
bar none MBA with honors that was easy
they called it the golden passport yes
passports are even faster
I never had problems
with band-aids
the bank
the insurance company
the healthcare system
never turned down
for a credit card car loan
life insurance policy
or request for a specialist
experience is the best teacher
and the more I learned
the less I wanted to know
and the faster I turned
then I learned
about certain specifics
certain policies
with regard to traffic stops
bank loans rental property
heath care voting rights marriage
read the color purple
and then that invaluable government
syphilis experiment
that would have been inconceivable
even to doctor mengele
that the star spangled banner
has more than one stanza?
really there were four stanzas?
MY country ‘tis of ME
and it was making me feel *****
learned that no one
voluntarily held that flag up
that hellish night
o’er the ramparts WE watched
as slave and freedmen
were ordered
to their near certain death
with the threat of absolute
certain death
then I watched a cop
shoot a kid in the back
in cold blood
near a merry-go-round
on a playground
in baltimore maryland
I liked baltimore
fast very fast he emptied the 10 round clip
of a semi-automatic 9mm Glock 27
into THAT kid's back no hesitation ******
baltimore baltimore baltimore baltimore
I hit the brakes hard
on those fast decades and decades
generations generations generations
of turning
I slowed down way way way down
stopped
took a deep deep deeper breath
then did what I always did and do best
I turned turned turned I turned around
and as I turned I woke
to kneel
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 11:05 AM UTC
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree ******
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears
Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And that the ladder of the law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears
7k
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul
Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M.
Deep in the distance
dancing upon the horizon
a deeply distinctive voice
defies definition
bending genres to her will
clearly breaking boundaries
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Little Girl Blue
lettin' it all out
with a wild as the wind
Sinner man
just tryin' to feel good
absolutely refusing to be misunderstood
a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes
into blazing beautiful harmony
putting a revolutionary spell on you
belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit
Peace of Heart
Nectar of Truth
just in time
to do what you do...
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
Born to a preacher handyman
and housemaid minister
a gospel pop fusion diva
emerges from the Glory of Love
a strange volatile fruit
blossoms into young, gifted, and Black
spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold
from a silky soul
that scorches the earth
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
Masterfully mesmerizing
Black rock
Blood
and Candlesmoke
a fiery flow of
tangy, tantalizing and titillating
under a fog of duality
genius bears two heads
vibrant and intricate
a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty
an empowered diva
breaks down and let's it all out
just energetic expressive jazz
injected with well composed folklore
live at Ronnie Scotts
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
From Newport to Baltimore
an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit
and hypnotizes the masses
with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs
a powerful
Four Women
high on Lilac Wine
blush from Broadway Blues Ballads
in Baltimore
See-line woman
goes to hell
to save Little Liza Jane
and shelters in Barbados
Cotton-eyed Joe feeds
Brown Baby controversy
behind Blue Prelude
Did it move you?
Yeah...
Hell yeah.. it moved me too!
Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird
in chilly winds that don't blow
while willows weep something seemingly
symbolic of soothing
to an African mailman in Central Park
and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues
The High Priestess of Soul
caged but still singing
shivering sensations
from stubborn sweetness
under sweet strings
that sharply spill and scatter strength
to the sorrowful
that daily dine and devour
silky, soulful, and spicy
Pastel Blues.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
Writing for me is simple..
Lyrically ready to maximize my potential..
I have something to say I don't blow hot air like a inner tube...
Tell them liars they need to relax..
I am the type to push it to the max..
Switching gears and lanes until the governor snap ..
I cannot be contain..
Like the green hulk fighting the thing
I wish you could take a walk through my brain..
You would see different things depending on the time of day...
Like dead people, relatives that passed in my memories they live...
Times of my youth when I was a kid...
I didn't smile much.
I was a good kid I didn't wild much...
Pops sold crack so I styled much ...
Gun shots in Baltimore, my pops died once...
In my mind I question a ****
Like are they always ready to ****
Or does life have them Close to the edge..
Of a cliff a jagged hill
And they don't want to die in this dog eat dog world..
So they let blood spill..
I wonder if I was a G would I bang.
Red or blue claim a gang.
Be like Larry Hoover...
A young shooter...
In and out of prison I maneuver
Run the block like a ruler...
Be part of the the trash like manure
Be a coke runner a drug mover..
Corrupting the body of drug users. ..
Would I be known as a survivor
Escaping death more than MacGyver
Embrace the streets as truth knowing that's it a liar...
Nickname my gun human torch cause it fires
I wonder cause honestly I don't have a gun
This poetry is my weapon..
I am only gangsta through my lyrical aggression
Day 1 down...I am up to the challenge.
A poem a day ..to test my talent...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
White boy afraid of the mirror
White boy hates history class
White boy wears hood up, always
White boy afraid to go outside
White boy is all apologies
White boy prays for baltimore
White boy doesn't talk much
White boy thinks he has no right
White boy ashamed of who he is
White boy sorry for his skin
White boy can't explain what he is feeling
White boy can't sleep no more
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC
She was faster than a rattlesnake
She could split a log in two
She was better than any hand
I think I ever knew
She was famous all throughout the west
But, it really was a shame
She wasn't known for what she did
She was famous for her name
She could rope and shoot and ride
Better 'n any man I know
But laugh at this girl's name
And she'd hog tie you for show
Christened Patricia Bollinger
From Baltimore she came
She didn't like the term cow girl
So, Cow Patty was her name
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
The greatest player
I've ever seen
The heart of Raven nation
a Superbowl M.V.P
You'll be missed so much
when this season does end
So Baltimore win it all
win it for him.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
Look at us, I'm carrying a basket made of trash
and you're carrying a mouse, well
the dog chewed up your glasses
but you're still rockin it
you have a single drop of coffee on your nose,
we're ready to go to D.C.
I had another where-are-we moment, it was fun.
Good, that's downtown Baltimore right there,
****** capital of the world.
An elaborate mural graffiti.
Wall after brick wall.
A rustbelt city like Grand Rapids
Detroit Cincinnati.
Did you sleep well?
Yes I woke up feeling like a clam in a cocoon.
A sea creature inside of a forest insect, okay.
I've wasted too much time on both desire and regret.
Yellow bridge.
Blue-green supports.
Singer on the radio saying, we're young right now.
There's a healthy and an unhealthy way of dealing with pain,
I'm sorry for my selfish behavior in the islands.
I want to go back and leave a better legacy.
'Word.'
Last night to come see you I drove I-95 N, the overpass
and though the rest of the city was really moving
I was all alone up there, it was like
driving in the sky.
We pass signs saying: Icy Conditions:
bridges and ramps freeze first.
And a billboard: Learning Kick Flips
Takes Work, So Does College
We listen to our favorite island song:
love the islands, love the islands, oh.
You look like a rasta snowboarder girl
There's something really right
about having you in this car
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Justice delayed is justice denied
A familiar credo rarely applied
So the call for it is a rising tide
They’re only trying to close the divide
It came so quickly in Baltimore
Like nothing that they had ever seen before
The young prosecutor was so able and sure
Though she never tried a case like it before
This time a rookie would light the fuse
People rejoiced once given the news
The laws don’t exist for police to abuse
Responsible parties have to pay some dues
She laid the facts out chapter and verse
Starting with what she said occurred first
It began to appear that Freddie was cursed
As she laid out the charges it looked even worst
Although color only tends to distract
If you must keep track as a matter of fact
Out of the six cops three were black
Which doesn’t suggest that they knew how to act
Cops bleed blue whether black or white
The uniform’s the same am I wrong or right?
Either or they’ll put out your light
Then say you resisted and put up a fight
People were asking how Freddie died
Some rightly suspected from a bumpy ride
And now that those facts have been verified
It’s more than a theory that will get tried
Just as if Freddie was sending a sign
His broken neck and a badly cracked spine
Wasn’t self-inflicted we got to find
Did they really think that we’d lost our minds
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
Two magnificent turtles
and I’m surprised I can see them from the distance between us.
I’m sitting in my car on a Baltimore street close to the cobblestone kingdom.
He just exited, I’m waiting patiently.
Were both waiting and this is one more step taken on a path we have carved that leads to our future
and is created from scratch.
Hardly working, and he’s looking to work hard.
Although most days I wished he would just stay in bed with me.
We’re planning and we are praying that the floor doesn’t fall through.
Living this way, living under a rain cloud.
Things tend to have a way of working themselves out but it’s hard to guess fate’s direction
when you’re standing on shaky ground.
The sound of a bell barely awakens the pedestrians.
It might not mean anything, but it sure is a pretty sound.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
The civil war's not over
The sides are re-arranged
Those who once were allies
Now, they are estranged
The uniforms don't matter
It's now the colour of their skin
That's put the country back
To when the trouble did begin
Slavery abolished?
Have you looked outside your door?
Just take some time and ask yourself
Just who you're working for
The civil war's not over
It didn't ever end
Just watch your local nightly news
and see it's continuing my friend
America is burning
The flames are getting higher
The country's feeding on itself
Throw more fuel on the fire
Ferguson and Baltimore
are the start of the new pyre
America is burning
Throw more fuel on the fire
One percent to ninety nine
That's slavery to me
It's not just racial segregation
There's more than that to see
The civil war's not over
It's continued rolling on
It will stay there in the background
It's the country's most successful con
Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah
Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah
The country will be burning when he comes
From a war where no one really won
As another town burns, for all the world to see
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
He tied his love to the railroad
Tracks and the
Fears that were part of
A matched set
Tied them down good
And left them screaming
Obscenities
The Baltimore and
Ohio derailed that day as he
Threw away the towel that
Read "Hers" while "His"
Hung there alone and
Uncomplicated
Like the black and white
Silent movie life he had fabricated
He poured a single scotch and
Soda and thought of the children
He'd never have to have
Heard the gospel-flavored whistle of the train
And his salvation
On the railroad tracks
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
She kissed me
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.
We fell in
love.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.
We made
mistakes.
Not because
we wanted to
but because
we could.
We thought
we were
perfect.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.
I vomited in
the bathroom
of a
Baltimore
7-11
because
sometimes
you cannot
hold it in
much
longer.
Her hands shook
as she held her
mirror
because
sometimes
your reflection
can only
tell you
so much.
My body shook.
Her body stiff.
And when
the bodies
move
the hearts
stop.
She lied some.
I drank words.
The veins
in hands
are maps
to imagined
consciousness.
Really,
it's just
a
*******
*****
Music to
my ears.
Nervousness
between
blinks.
Noise to
my brain.
She said,
"I love you"
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.
I said,
"I love you, too,"
not because
I could
but because
I wanted to.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 2:30 AM UTC
if he is not made of them wholly, branches, he will be soon. they are everywhere, and he steps on them, and they are arms from hell. he wears a child’s football jersey, torn at his size and his sorrow. he reaches into it and pulls out his heart, a red balloon given the what for, inside of which he blows his nose. he returns the heart.
a yellow adherent hangs from both nostrils, as two ropes being cut at and then loosed from his brain. the first keeps an arm from heaven; the second he catches and loops twice to put on his neck. one is never out of the woods here, and he knows it, knows here is Baltimore, Ohio. he has watched the people, some of them, leave; their happiness would be better called remission.
he is giddy when he comes upon a man wearing only a barrel and he tips it with joy and makes better his headway home. the rolled over branches shriek and wake the man who nakedly bails. the branches up their shrieking.
his mother he has no dementia of his time in her womb. why for **** the despondent are given captions like ‘blank look’ he can’t say for in his mama naught but canvassing eyes. she’s what he calls ‘at grocery’, shaking a coffee can she’ll buy because a done melon can’t hold pennies. she often at the neck is saddled with two toddlers but in his projection now there is just one making miracle of not kicking the coffee can into another’s back.
any girl that occurs lets him take her with his tongue only as she seems to know he was circumcised and after that much paddled.
he starts thinking on dad and dad’s laughing when mother’d say boys be home before dog because that’s how it sounded from seizures and of course rock candy in the summer. the barrel splinters beneath him to be forgotten and his legs go to bleeding stilts.
his last things by his face are insufficient; rock candy, barrel, and twin. I talk on the barrel, I don’t need it, not anymore.
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
there was a little dog he heard on the news
he had won a holiday a mini weekend cruise
he packed up his case packed it nice and neat
and his favorite thing his little doggie treat
boarded on his ship and sailed away from shore
headed to America bound for Baltimore
then sailed on again across the sea so blue
hawaii was the venue the next one in the que
he really liked it there underneath the sun
sitting in his deck chair and having lots of fun
sailed on yet again to canary isle
took a look around and stayed there for a awhile
then back to his ship heading home once more
sailed beneath the sun to his homeland shore
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
My brain is a factory,
producing every toxic part of me.
************ until my hand gets lazy,
fantasizing about Lexi Belle
and being Martin Scorsese.
My blood is a vacuum,
alone in a crowded room;
my white blood cells like to
travel to my *****
so I can someday infect
designer uterine walls.
Locked and loaded,
my heart exploded.
The tissue and issues
attracted crocodiles
that swam from the mall,
for miles and miles.
Store-bought baby, my body isn't ready,
to be stripped down to the bone,
and sold to teenage radios,
that'll broadcast my American moans.
Caucasian nightmare:
my skin is not fair.
Peel enough off with chemicals,
until I decide there's no more,
and hide the layers in bathroom stalls,
located in the bleach of Baltimore.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
the maryland girls
sit with half eaten smiles
speak sideways
half truths
casting lines out into the Chesapeake
where men jump
at shiny elusive things
hook in lip
blood in mouth
worms writhing on their tongues
pulled to shore
uncomfortable
choking on oxygen
pretty eyes eclipsing sun
measuring by skeptical scales
a good heart for loving
strong lungs for screaming her name
soft hands to chase her hair from her face
hook from mouth
worm swimming down throat
pulled to feet
she kissed me
[swallowed it]
pressed for just a few seconds
[but shes still kissing me to this very day]
she whispers to go
but i so desperately want to stay
fish out of sea
she'll agree that i taste nice
but through seemingly faked sorrow
she'll admit she has lost her appetite
knife in chest
gutted head to toe
tossed back into
the frozen mouth of the Chesepeake
and i will be swallowed
we'll all be
and when i come floating down to Baltimore
They wont find much of me
like the Tomb i will be found empty
but since there are no places in heaven for fish
i simply will cease to exist
maryland girls
sit with half eaten smiles
waiting to devour
dreaming to digest
stupid
floundering
gullible
fish.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 8:57 PM UTC
Venting.
They never see the hollow me..
deleted twitter, but i want you guys to follow me..
Usually up late,
worrying about my luck, wait..
there's a starving child somewhere..
meanwhile i just ate..
****** *** my phone bills high, And my ex girl is taken...
meanwhile a small girl in Nepal still feels her world shakin...
Going 80 on the freeway, i just wanna bowl now..
While the folk down in Philly prayed the train would slow down...
Bothered by the shade of a new building...
while people in Haiti are still building..
still building...
while i buy building blocks for my nephew, hes 1.
while the people down in Baltimore burning buildings for fun...
really?
burning building for fun?
Whys the CVS big, but the school with no funds?
but they say the solution is, taking the guns...
they took the guns in Chicago, but left fatherless sons.
Eyebrows on fleek but societies bleak.
the devil takes a seat in a heavenly street..
now were all cursed, but im watching netflix on my sofa..
Chilling bumping Sosa, living by the park where they ***** my neighbor Rosa..
Gotta remind myself daily...that im blessed to a fault..
because theres stillborn babies, whose heads rest in a vault..
boys in Africa begging for bread, while i toast my *****
on the beach enjoying summer the waters too cold to swim though..
while in New Orleans they had to jump in regardless..
but all my worry is, if my sister can pass her BAR test..
So next time i wanna vent under my AC vent...
i stop and think, **** i dont even have to pay rent..
I dont gotta work doubleshifts and im never hungry..
plus a got a couple people who really love me..
So..
Next time that i wanna complain..
Ill scale my struggle on a real measure of pain.
-afj
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
Isn't about the hatred of another person
Isn't about screaming opinions at the top of your lungs
Isn't about attacking others
Social Justice
Is about standing in the middle of a crowded room and shouting what's right as they shout what's wrong
Words flowing
Blood pumping
Screaming about Baltimore and Ferguson
White people crying wolf while blacks cry fear
Social Justice
Is the construct that is refused because it's right
And we know it's right
But refuse to believe it in all of its glory
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
I think of you, friend,
as I make my way to Baltimore,
awake and aware of the
stillness in the backseat.
Used to be at least three
of us, sleepless and ******
never alone except when we slept.
I think of you when the
sunlight finally hits my windshield
and refracts into rainbows
all over the dashboard.
I've always hated mornings,
but this one is calm and beautiful
and I can't wait to reach the shore.
I think of you once more
while I'm sitting on the docks
tossing rocks into the Patapsco,
watching the gulls go sleepily overhead. I dread the drive back home. But I'll be thinking of you
when I hit the highway laughing at
something you said when you were
alive.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC