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A B Faniki Jun 2019
You broke the law, but you did not know that;
The law too does not care if you are ignorant of it;
You have a gutter for a mouth that is offensive;
A defamation lawsuit is the soap to clean it.
My Lord, if it pleases you may I ask why
I am in the dock on my left, if am the complainant?
Counsel, warn your client; it seems he too has a
Gutter for a mouth that a court contempt can clean.
My Lord, if we are starting on the wrong foot
I beg to differ; may I withdraw the lawsuit;
Complainant, for wasting the court’s time you are
Sentence to seven hours of community service without fine.
Any complaining about the bench is a Kamikaze lawsuit
for the affairs of mankind are affairs of emotions.
I think is so cliche to say a poem came to me, but at times it is the only right word that fit in poetry. Same with this work i hope it make senses like it did to me when writting it.
Tanya Rosenblit is a young TV producer,
the daughter of Russian immigrants
but  now a lawfull citizen of Israeli,
in spite of race,gender and faith,
she  lives in the coastal town of Ashdod,
punitively remote areas of Israel
reserved for immigrants ,  sub-human Gentiles,
in the  fresh past within the scope of digital error
she harmlessly  caught a bus to Jerusalem,
the city were God is supposed to reign from,
  she  too had a medical appointment in it
She made an effort to dress modestly o! No; Godly,
as her doctor was in an ultra-Orthodox area of the city
the doctor fears outer anatomy of  human being,
women anatomy in the area of legs at most.

The ultra-Orthodox are Jewish chauvinists
who have a justified world of anti-humanity,
they believe in sub-humanity of women and foreigners,
these  they extremely hold with  religious  dint,
they  are  theologically rigid Jews, who yell terror
on their prey,they wear black like the Tarzans,
men have long side curls, giving them impish look,
as  every aspect of their lives  in Jerusalem and yonder,
is  apparatchik  of racial prejudice,
beautifully coded in the Old Testament.

Rosenblit was the first passenger to board
Just as Rosa Parks the black American,
She sat in the front of the bus , humbled as usual
so the driver could  guide her, given her sub humanity,
when she reached her stop, lest chimpanzee in her,
Lulls her into lawless extension beyond the quarantine.

Then they came
Ultra-Orthodox men
to  board the bus
after her
they were overtaken by discomfiture
when they saw her on the front chair,
Then  of them insisted the bus is messy
he would not travel , imagine his business,
unless Tanya moved to the back of the bus
where immigrants and sometimes women belong.

imaginary laws evolved there and then,
that  buses which go to ultra-Orthodox areas
must have men and women seated  separately,
to sing a lyric to  their believes about modesty
It's an unwritten rule, repugnant  and arsolian,
but the Ultra-Orthodox men  love it with passion,
  they enforcing it with paranoia.

They ordered her to vamoose
of course to the back seat
the back seat that is not there
she balked and refused
inviting them to chance of reason,
they went hysterical
shouting like maniacs , 'Jews, Jews, protest, protest!'
then Jewish  men assembled outside the bus,
panting like an antelope,
that has escaped wrath of the lion,
They were all wearing black, gnomish
Tanya  was just sitting there frozen,
in full spirit of Russia, the cradle of revolution,
not panicking , calm and herself.

Jewish  policeman arrived and spoke in Jewish dialect,
to the driver with air of self-marginalization,
then  to the Jewish  complainant and to Tanya Rosenblit,
He  also ordered her to move to the back seat
as  show of respect, to elders in black,
Once again, she refused, on basis of one reason;
respecting others is not humiliating myself.
Sienna Luna Feb 2019
Mad at myself
Mad at myself
Why am I always
so mad at myself?
Cut clients short
time is but a construct but
this is my second or third complainant this week or last week and it’s like I’m impatient and cut their time short always middle-aged blond women maybe I’m projecting maybe I’m not so bad, maybe I’m just tired and lazy and being catty

I’m mad at myself
I’m mad at my actions
Waiting until last minute to register for classes got a way in but it’s becoming a disaster
I’m mad at my actions
I’m mad at myself
I’m no longer a child
on the fucken shelf
that needs to be helped
that needs her hand held
while doing every grown-up step
I’m mad at myself
I’m mad at myself
Mad at myself
At myself
Myself
Self
Elf
Am I an elf?
Why did I **** up?
Why did I **** it up?
Why am I stuck?
Why do I ****?

I can salvage it all
I can stop my fucken fall
So ****** I feel
It almost feels unreal
Work and School
I’m stacking
and slacking
I’m procrastinating
and waiting
I’m ******* up
and ******* it up
So mad at myself
So mad at my elf
So mad to be a self on the shelf
of childhood fighting adulthood fighting endless deadlines ending early making my clients ****** and not want to come back because they feel like they don’t matter because I’m cutting their sessions short or running late or taking my sweet **** time, acting like a shorty clown and in grad school I sent all those emails out but then go awol and have so many doubts that I’m making mistakes and failing just a little bit and I don’t get it

Why am I doing this?
Why are they so ******?
Why can’t I shake off my fears and fully fucken get into gear
until I work this work this out
until I forge my life with sound
until this mountain of mourning or sorrow splits like the hilt of a samurai blade splitting grain becoming fits of bulbous rage and it feels like I’ve gotten a bad grade in life not a C or a D but a big fat F

Full of strife
I can’t eat
I can’t sleep
I ****** up
I’m in heat
I’m in love
in my head
and my heart’s
full of dread
I’m upset
I’m aloof
I’m unaware
and a goof
I ****** up
I’m alright
I’ll make it all right
I’ll make it all better
I’ll stop straying off the beaten path
I’ll get wetter
and wetter
so soaked and sloshy I’ll
be okay and forgive myself
I’m no longer mad at myself
No longer mad at myself
I forgive myself
Forgive myself
Myself
Self
Elf
Cedric McClester Nov 2016
By: Cedric McClester

I believe hope springs eternal
With faith measured by the kernel
We can get past this infernal
If we get cooking with some Sterno
Can we turn it all around
When we commit to get down
All kinds of solutions can be found
So I’ll continue to expound

We can over come they sang
While shooters went bang bang bang
But not from the members of a gang
Out of the darkness from which they sprang
So I’ll remain an optimist
Not just a complainant who ***** his fist
I know that ignorance is bliss
But at all costs that’s what we must resist

If there’s a need for a paradigm
James Baldwin called it the fire next time
While city officials called it a crime
We can’t repeat it time after time
But I’m encouraged by what I see
From the populace and the powers that be
I don’t know if that’s just me
Cos I see a positive destiny

The commentator called for peace and calm
While the Nation of Islam called an alarm
And members of the clergy said do no harm
Let’s march in protest arm and arm
I know that we can find a better way
Than the tragic displays of yesterday
Because everybody’s gonna have their say
See I believe in time it’s gonna be okay




Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.
UV Jan 2017
Sometimes I laugh at my own misery
My mind forever split in two
The God and the creation
One benevolent and indifferent
The other open to inflictions

When tragedy strikes
One always had the answers
And the other out of breath trying to catch up
But like always, history repeats itself
The creation questions God
Soon my mind's at war

The supposedly complainant part
Making a fuzz about finding this myth called love
For instinct dictates to find holes in the rules
Because how could God know something so human
So I embrace the doubt

Treading boldly into the unknown
With nothing muted
Emotions light my path and i no longer have my Shepard
You can imagine my surprise
When I realised it wasn't the road to what i thought would be my new home
Instead I found myself in the eye of the labyrinth

Lost and terrified
I no longer want to find my new home
I want to be told what to do again
So now I'm looking from afar
At the child weeping on its knees
In the middle of a cruel maze
And yes I'm laughing at its misery.
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

I believe hope springs eternal
With faith measured by the kernel
We can get past this infernal
If we get cooking with some Sterno
Can we turn it all around
When we commit to get down
All kinds of solutions can be found
So I’ll continue to expound

We can over come they sang
While shooters went bang bang bang
But not from the members of a gang
Out of the darkness from which they sprang
So I’ll remain an optimist
Not just a complainant who ***** his fist
I know that ignorance is bliss
But at all costs that’s what we must resist

If there’s a need for a paradigm
James Baldwin called it the fire next time
While city officials called it a crime
We can’t repeat it time after time
But I’m encouraged by what I see
From the populace and the powers that be
I don’t know if that’s just me
Cos I see a positive destiny

The commentator called for peace and calm
While the Nation of Islam called an alarm
And members of the clergy said do no harm
Let’s march in protest arm and arm
I know that we can find a better way
Than the tragic displays of yesterday
Because everybody’s gonna have their say
See I believe in time it’s gonna be okay




© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
We Can Get Past This Infernal is the last in a series of 10 poems inspired by the city of Baltimore in the wake of the Freddie Gray funeral.
Dawnstar Jul 2019
Wer not i were the fir trees shake and wail
    In tracts ov sleep amung sum aking vale,
    Their somber snores, sir, preventing
    The yonder moor's circumventing,
        Then cross i woud,
        And make this good
    Complainant flud relenting.

Thank God we'v gotten rid of "phantasies",
God noes we'r not quite thru with "fotografs".
In lite of "ache", a mustache quaches!
So let's not mache the same mistache,
I'll spell it "ake"; now that is set,
And we ar free from dout and det.
Yet don't forget: be moderat!
(Or not, its ritely up tu yu.)
It needn't be rad or frenetic,
If only a tad mor fonetic.

Take, for sake of example,
How "hemorage" and "flem" are ample
Enuff, then shrug off "cough" and "though",
And "dough" as well can go.
E'en "sleigh" and "neigh" and "weigh"
Have nay a place today.
Why cling to things immutable?
A modern "frute" is sutable!

Do not indite me, dauters and sisters,
For offering change to a cumbersom sistem;
The anser is plain, my frends, not hidden!
Nor do ye shun me, ye tuff men o' wor,
For casseling "castle" and coring the "corps";
Som rules a poet can surely ignor.

Shall we then masque the musque of a maskerade,
Put on by men in mosks at prayerthyme?
Or asque for Coronel's victuals—
Orderves; or, just a bictual—
Let's change our lang a lictual, like Sam's *Rime
!
(In case you're unaware, "victuals", in standard English, is pronounced like "vittles".) 

— The End —