"confiscating" poems
Today through the desperate shouts of man our equality is defined as rain pours down like cries
Cries of those who died and still dying; cries of widowed eyes
Today we are all the same…everyone is prone to be soaked by the drops of truth resembling rain
And maybe we all feel the pain
But as the raging voices shout and scream, they are perpetually shattered by every single drop of sky
Every man is alone, today... every man on his own today…
The rich get richer devouring all our rights and confiscating all our sense of security and hope
And the poor get dumped in wells of their own regret; wells unlike the theatrical scenes do not include a savior or that miraculous rope
Genocides are no more Armenian alone, for death knows no nationality
And we stand here waiting for our time to end, accepting the methods of brutality
They've killed our minds, the children of our thought
They've killed our conscious and with money they bought
All the days we fear the unknown, and the unknown is not death for death is safe and obviously common
For death is known and sacred yet the informal is rotten
We are lost inside fake walls
And long halls
Loathing ourselves within those fake walls and longs halls
And the unknown follows us, it's high time we realize that it is the thing we despise
With all the deception of outer images, and human disguise
At least we still have an ascribed right, at least at some days
Today through the desperate shouts of man our equality is defined as rain pours down on our self inveterate ways….
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
The Hills went driving
All over the highway
Didn't care much for timing
Up and down cracked roads
The lights overhead shined bright
She wanted to know (confusion)
He already did (premonition)
And so they kept on going
The tires, they kept rolling
The bright lights kept glowing
He loved her so much
Never would hurt her
Was fueled by her touch
But then they touched her
Swept away and they never saw it coming
She noticed first that they were levitating
A consciousness forever confiscating
They both felt the presence of the stars
Locked away in their messy little car
Before they knew it, they were in it
And before they could do it, they already did it
Changed forever and all I got was this stupid illness
Heading to the doctor to find out what the **** this sickness is
And it's all always the same old story
So I'll just end here for fear of being boring
But it's true
The Hills are anew
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
Sick I was weaker than I would be,
Soaked in vulnerability.
Recovering I was,
Still innocent, naive.
She sneaked in silently,
Masked under new skin.
I, forgetting her old tricks,
Welcomed her entrance.
Confiscating my opinions,
Shadowing my existence.
An oddly familiar reminder,
My speed my flexibility.
The ever swinging pointer,
Numbers, the scales, my proximity.
I, still trapped in her captivity,
Never knew to seek escape.
I, forever her prisoner,
Control she over takes.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
He's not what you think,
And he pretends you know.
The more he confiscates the worry,
The more it seems to show.
He's walking around the lies,
As they pile against his skin.
So at night; he'll break the doors,
And flood out what's within.
Pressing the lock into his throat,
He glides the key straight to his heart.
Stop the plane in his head,
Before it can depart.
He's convinced this plain is unwelcome,
Underlying a helpless glow.
This seed planted inside him,
fixes fears no one truly knows-
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 6:44 AM UTC
Sorry, dude. I must admit
I find it more than pathetic
That you experience life
With sorrow about some of it
That you don’t have a drug
To take to help appreciate
Something that is amazing
And really needs no chemical
To help you exaggerate
What is really going on
And pretend it is better
Or somehow transcendent
As if water can be wetter.
But it is as if time warped
And I have gone backward
To talk to myself about it
And then zapped forward
To see what a saturate
What a wet-brained fool
I was back then, it’s true.
I was a tin-plated tool.
I measured my existence
One dime bag at a time
Giggling with stoner friends
About my forays into crime;
Selling backs of skunk ****
When nobody else had any
Good stuff or bad stuff.
And I was the one with plenty.
Walking through Hollywood
With stoner friends and flakes
Singing as we stumbled along
About life and what it takes
To satisfy *** hounds those days.
*** drugs and rock and roll
And pride in our half-witted ways.
Learning how to roll pinners
Of a buddy’s stash on the sly
While he was taking a whizz
And couldn’t ask me why.
Learning how to properly treat
The remaining sticks and stones
And confiscating the roaches
When the others left them alone.
That was the cannabis coalition
The Sativa Society at its height.
We worked in the daytime and
Got ********* most every night.
And sooner or later, on the job
In the bathroom or on the roof.
I didn’t think of it addiction.
I still needed further proof.
I needed to try to buy ****
From a government man I met.
Fortunately I bailed on that
Before adding one more big regret.
Life has gotten better since then
No more outside dependence.
I quit before the drugs became
The entire focus of my existence.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
do I possess an inner reality
one of hallucinatory psychosis
and if so is it
incorruptible
immutable
does it float on my breath
confiscating my words
is it a projection of my self
like watching a movie
disconnected
yet caught on the edge
of a dematerialization
which reflects images that mob my head
causing me to think of rats
that slink out of drains at noon
and whispers in the mouth
like a static interference on my mind
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
*Spectral & Whites,
She shoots liquid kryptonite,
Forming civil twilights,
Lighting up satellites,
Effusive she moves in crowds,
Vetting the loud,
Entombing in her vortex clouds,
Fiction stitched exclusive to her shroud,
Translucent transcendence,
Sinking in ascendance,
Obscured abundance,
Her celestial dependence,
Mutating sacraments,
Dissolving electrolytic laments,
Decaying she resents,
Her serene blood stains,
Choking reckless intents,
Torrential far cry,
Of her desecrated lullabies,
Edging serrated highs,
Triggering sulphur lies,
Profanity in her transmits,
Photonic duality she emits,
Fluttering in trance,
Her psychopathic stance,
Initiating empathetic dance,
Seductive incandescence,
Buffering her schizophrenic vehemence,
Veiling the era of repentance,
By unveiling spiritual severance,
And pseudo sacrosanct irreverence,
The future’s here,
Nuclear souvenir,
She past my prime,
When the evidence realigned,
Confiscating her downtime,
She committed my crime,
Make amends… We are designed to be outlived….
03:22AM*
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
The oppressive winter, a fierce warlord
revels in his victory over the summer,
forcing all that was once living
to bear the heavy burden
of his frost,
confiscating our colors,
giving us only ice as payment.
However, in some obscure corner of this land,
Mother Nature hides,
waiting to restore our hues, our animation-
cowering, shrouded in secret.
Somewhere, she waits anxiously,
plump with child,
to bring us what we crave so terribly:
Spring.
Somehow, she is certain that
Spring will restore someone’s lost joy.
Now it is just a matter of time.
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 11:55 AM UTC
I deserve love, only the best of the best, from the best!
I’ve spent too much time not being happy; too much time,
signing my own song, too much time, being all alone.
I want so much for you to believe, that you and me
are total alchemy.
There is no one else on my radar screen, no one else,
confiscating my dreams.
No other man on this earth has autographed his name inside my heart.
I used to believe in fairy tales, now I believe in dreams coming true.
You have captured my spirit with your strength, and laced it with a dose
of pure perfection.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 2:30 PM UTC
Thick-muddy roads around some sick cruddy homes.
Drugs flowing in toe by toe.
Water’s running dry or poisoned,
Just waiting for the Vultures to show.
Institutionalized woes, seen in droves.
Internalized hatred making each other foe’s.
Systematic destruction killing everything we know.
But that’s the way it goes,
In the savage lands where people lose their very souls.
We in the savage lands, where things are running foul.
With some not realizing we never really got rid of the white cowl.
I don’t care what you have to say!
Things aren’t ok, ok, ok!
Don’t you see racism is still alive today?
Uh, education? What education?
After 100 years of attempted extermination.
Forcing their indoctrination, lock us up,
Incarceration.
Isolating us from the rest of the population,
What’s that called again?
Alienation!
With missing and murdered indigenous women.
Yet the police take so much longer in their investigations.
Confiscating children out they homes,
Calling it salvation.
It’s like a third world country out here man!
It’s like we living in Damnation!
But that’s just the way it goes,
This is the savage land, where people have lost their very souls.
We in the savage lands, where things are running foul.
With some not realizing we never got rid of the white cowl.
Yeah, so I don’t care what you have to say!
Things aren’t ok, ok, ok!
Don’t you see racism is still alive today?
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 6:51 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Trump would like us to take
A poisoned Kool Aid drink
Because many people think
Just like many people don’t
By giving him their support
They’re selling themselves short
No matter how we retort
To him it’s merely a sport
While telling his many lies
He never identifies
Who those many people are
That he’s noted thus far
And it’s really scary
Because he derives his theory
From the worldwide internet
Which should make us all upset
Now he’s praising Putin
Who’s in Crimea shooting
And confiscating land
Because he’s out of hand
But Donald’s busy dissin’
Our President and dismissing
Him as incompetent
Like he’s been where he went
Making crucial decisions
Requires the kind of precison
That the Donald lacks
These are just the facts
But his ego is such
That he thinks too much
Of his inherent ability
Because he’s much too blind to see
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC
what to do when the old you is gone
and the new you is here
what to do when the old you was good
and the new you is bad
I am not very good proponent
so my future is only outcroppings.
My present is iridescent
my omen is not clear to meaning
but i try my best
but all i get are outcroppings
I find the reprimands repugnating,
but the sheen side of me seems to slip away
even when i am trying to hold on.
there are debonair times
that bring that sheen back,
but people seem to enjoy confiscating it.
I am not a cynical
at least not out loud
So when this happens
i beacon a hand of prayer for guidance
and my kinetic energy comes back
until they confiscate it again
i will remain happy with joy
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
I want to consume you with my every breath
Replacing myself with you piece by piece
I consider it outrageous
The way you fill my lungs
The obvious determination of mind body and soul
Making yourself a side effect of my abuse
My self neglect
My bad habit
The obvious press of you against my lips
Civil, the way you present yourself
Engaged by the touch of lips
Engulfed in your total embrace
A mouthful of clarity sitting for seemingly a moment before losing all self control
Requesting that I do so again
And again
A pleasure shared between us both, loudly spoken.
It's almost impossible
Imaging myself lost in habit
Disclosing a part of myself not easily seen
Doing so
And choosing to do so again
Imposing a mentality that causes moral concern
If you should ever leave
Extinguishing the spark felt between wood and surface
A fearful behavior
The smothering of external emotion
Closing the gap between argument
Confiscating my words for silence
This urge of consolation
Where would I go
The aches and pain of woe
Positive in the way I held you
Listening to a library of thought
Admiring your gorgeous posture
Suggesting I embrace you again
And again
The fume of dysfunction never felt so beautiful
The beauty in self destruction for another
Craving a choice that was no longer mine
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 5:19 PM UTC
you want me to put out a cigarette out
inside your eye?
let's face it: tears don't come cheap...
sometimes you need more
than a rom-com to turn your eye into a
niagara falls... which way's the
hmm hum umm?
this sort of time-frame
is really confiscating my
anti-claustrophobic philia
worth of shaking
hands or knee-jerking
really quick;
get my drift? no? no matter...
i can do with a "thought"
basis for summary...
ah **** me...
can you imagine feeling
magnetism when shaking
your hand really ******
apart from watching
paint dry,
i suggest the "movie"
of watching ice freeze,
or mercury freeze...
the latter?
gone with the wind standard
of 3 hours +...
nice though...
to imagine, better still:
imitate...
what a sin to bed driving
a car, and listening to
classical music,
citing john brunning after five
p.m., who the **** listens to
classical music when driving
a car?
leprechauns?!
he-be-he-be-hoom-ha?!
modesty just ****** off,
all we're left with is
a welcome "bargain" of profanity;
i always enjoyed the idea
of running 100m while dribbling
a football, like the time
when marc overmars could outrun
most sprinters dribbling a football
while playing the left-wing for arsenal...
every time i see these men of sprint
getting all cocky... i tend to ask
them: hold an egg on a tbl. spoon...
and run the same time of the worth
of distance...
marc overmars would still
out-run you...
mind the fact that he was also dribbling
a football...
evidently humanity will not
remember a marc overmars: simply because
he wasn't in a ****** advert...
too bad... that dutch "prince" could
out-run that jamaican rod while
juggling three oranges with his hands,
balancing a watermelon on his head,
and dribbling a football;
basic!
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 9:57 PM UTC