"conviction" poems
( i )
I lucked out
on table 4 last night
window seat
baseboard heat
with intimate passages
from Ginsberg
in his purest
and most evident form
Cover-all Carl was draped
in his usual garb
(turning pages
of yesterday's news)
animating, culturing, bantering
on the fate of the
Greek barber
(in an accent of which
I'm not so sure)
His cronies
looked on
(with a twisted conviction)
countering
with their own tales
of ingovernance and woe
*did you know that Panasonic
lost 5 billion last quarter?*
The evening moved
in time lapse...
with painted winds,
streaming lights
and a host of
high school girls
running cold
Maleah passed
on her late shift
(checking the pile and trough),
patronized the boys
and called it a night
( ii )
The bald man
is back at it again
bickering at the till
(something about
a cold free coffee
or 99 cents
or the coloured guy
behind him who got it hot)
a kind Filipino
is trying to get it done
(at 8 bucks per)
losing her cool
and shedding a quiet tear
Wonder what the Purewals
or Haitians or Cossacks
would have to say
about this grim public reminder,
wonder what
this sad f*ck
will do tonight...
without his
bus pass
or sling sack
or broken Turkish stems
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
Now you have to understand
that the greatest gift a child can receive is a sibling.
Wrapped up in that hospital delivery is limitless potential.
They can be your partner in crime,
or the key witness in your conviction.
A sibling fights the same battles you do just with different tactics.
Some prefer to pit mom against dad others dad against mom.
No one will ever walk the earth as close to you.
Part of the DNA that makes you unique flows in their veins.
Even if circumstances change that bond can’t be broken.
They will annoy you, steal from you, drive you crazy,
and if you’re lucky enough hate you. And yet they are your best friend,
confidant, and the person who if you’re unfortunate enough will go to hell
and back as fast for you as you would do for them.
So to all the siblings out there.
May you be playmates in adversity and friendly rivals in joy
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
It's 2 am and I want to know why my hands are still twisting knots in my hair, trying to busy themselves from writing out "I love you, sometimes." I don't know when I don't, but I'm hoping it's in me somewhere because if not, I have no hope to ever say that with any conviction. I mean, maybe if I was a little drunk I could pretend to laugh at you. But, really, you fill up my whole heart. I hate it in the way people hate beautiful things that they can't have, like a kid in a candy store. It is child-like, how I cry over you. And you don't notice, not really. I can see it in the way children pick leaves off trees and let them fall to the ground without second thought after the initial satisfying snap. Every time I see a sunflower, head bowed with the heaviness of its petals, I'll think of you. Snow reminds me of you too. In fact, most things remind me of you. I would say only sometimes, but that's a lie I can't even tell myself.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 1:51 AM UTC
Are you listening to the whispers? are you feeling scandalised?
Harbouring ***** little feelings that you wanna sanitise?
Walk through the swinging doors of a catholic franchise
Ask em for that sailors knot a black-n-white man-ties
To the pairs of prying eyes his practical rebuke
Is a marital disguise and a tactical puke
Throw the garter ‘mongst the pigeons, the voluntary victims...
Whose single minds are filled with matrimonial conviction
Paired up poets pool their miseries; the price of art
Each miserable synergy - the sum of its parts
Did he swear that he’d hold you ever dear to his heart?
To love and to cherish til your knees did part?
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
There she stands on ceremony all silk and sinew
While the vow evicted from his Adam’s apple continues
To stutter as the panic builds like stifled farts
Til it splutters its devotions on her lady parts
Her eyes sentence you to sit though your neck-hairs stand
She’s the ****** ****** written in the lines on your palm
Old scores squeeze sideways through her gritted teeth
And he takes on the debt of every promise she believed
Hide the love-bites in a polo-neck, your love life in a Rolodex
When the ***** hand of happen-stance runs its evil down your keks
Cos like the indelible digits on your bathroom mirror
Love is for life until you dress it with liquor
If she wants you like her father and you want her like your mother
What the hell are you gonna do when you’re bored of one another?
We are but experiments, seven billion shades of wrong
The clever ones stay celibate, the others pass it on
That’s an easy line to settle-on in present company
Single-riders in the peloton to pick up the debris
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
A bleak motive, turning in a black backwards motion.
Fluent in rushing, pursuant in the crushing.
Ebony wood, the serenity compared to the knife.
A stifling recollection, within the house of corrections.
Was it a natural selection, gazing within the angel's reflection?
Garbed in white, and in her conviction.
A change of direction, now...
The resurrection of our mutual affection,
Was it over protection, or was it just mental rejection?
The pain was only an imperfection, built within all our disconnection.
My sense of direction gone within your vertical selection,
left with words- sharp like a needle;
sticking an intravenous injections.
So, should I offer my protection? Moments, within sight of the point of intersection?
No, keep on...
Keep on spreading the rejection infection.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
*Love is heart’s conviction
Transparent communication
Without speaking any words
Expressed with telepathy
Insight into each other’s heart*
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
TO BE A LEADER YOU MUST
LEAD FROM THE HEART
HAVE A COMMITMENT TO YOUR DREAM
AND HAVE CONVICTION FROM THE START
YOU MUST ALWAYS INSPIRE PEOPLE
AND BE THE STRENGTH IN YOUR TEAM
IF YOUR JOURNEY IS TOO STRAY
ALWAYS COME BACK TO YOUR DREAM
YOU MUST NEVER SWET THE SMALL STUFF
AND STAY FOCUSED ON YOUR TASK
BE TRUE TO ALL YOUR ANSWERS
IF QUESTIONS ARE EVER ASKED
NEVER SPEAK A WORD OF DOUBT
ALWAYS ENCOURAGE WITH YOUR WORDS
BUILD UP OTHER CHARACTERS
TO MAKE A BETTER WORLD
BUT THE ONE THING YOU MUST DO
IS ALWAYS BE TRUE TO YOURSELF
OR YOU WILL WIND UP JUST ANOTHER
BROKEN DREAM ON THE SHELF
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 5:30 PM UTC
Her hair was long
Down to that place where *** just barely meets back
The place his fingers linger
Every time she says goodbye
The place where two tiny dimples make up for the fact she never smiles
Long like the days he spends
Wondering if she's happy at home
wondering if she's just as good at pretending to be in love
As she is at pretending not to be
Like the time he spends waiting for a sign from her... or of her
Long like her absence in his bed
He hears her laughter in his head
He'd settle for hearing her name
Her hair was thick
Like the way his tongue feels after a midnight pack of camels
She says she doesn't smoke anymore
But she does
Because she says a naked man can't smoke alone
It looks funny
Thick like her thighs
And silky smooth when they graze his stomach
Like his great grandmother's accent
He doesn't understand her but finds comfort in the texture of the syllables
Her hair was strong
Like her conviction
Her determination to stay at home where she belongs
Though she longs to be with him
Strong like the coffee she brews
Because she's too rebellious to measure anything
Coffee grounds or consequences
Like his addiction
His compulsion to reign her in
To keep her in his bed
In his heart
In his head
Her hair is dark
Like her eyes
Black pools that reflect her black heart, rotten soul
Dark like the way she makes love with the lights off
Because then she can make him into anybody
Whoever it is that she wants that day
Dark like that space between waking and dreams
Where everything is mixed up and nothing like it seems
Where he reaches out to touch her and finds only hair
A few strands on his pillowcase to remind him she was there
He finds them everywhere
Last night he found one wrapped around his big toe
He freed himself but found it hard to let it go
She says she hates to wear a ponytail
Like she doesn't want her hair to look like a horse's rear end
And he's just a ******* for letting her go again
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
Let's get some sunlight
Let's start a bar fight
We'll take our problems and forget we have to solve them
Let's take two tabs
Let's start a **** lab
We'll cover up insecurity with promiscuity
Let's sleep 'til Sunday
It's only Monday
I have to work at 2 but I think I have the bird flu
Let's call the drug store
Ask for a couple more
Insignificant reality crashes into banality
Let's make a hash pipe
Out of Brite Lites
We'll quote Pulp Fiction with Ezekiel's conviction
Let's start a fight club
Where we can make love
Punch me in the ear and then I'll disappear
Let's start a new life
But after midnight
There's a whole universe waiting to be uncovered first
Let's make a difference
Let's make new friends
Let's go where the wind blows but first I have to put on clothes
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
797
By my Window have I for Scenery
Just a Sea—with a Stem—
If the Bird and the Farmer—deem it a “Pine”—
The Opinion will serve—for them—
It has no Port, nor a “Line”—but the Jays—
That split their route to the Sky—
Or a Squirrel, whose giddy Peninsula
May be easier reached—this way—
For Inlands—the Earth is the under side—
And the upper side—is the Sun—
And its Commerce—if Commerce it have—
Of Spice—I infer from the Odors borne—
Of its Voice—to affirm—when the Wind is within—
Can the Dumb—define the Divine?
The Definition of Melody—is—
That Definition is none—
It—suggests to our Faith—
They—suggest to our Sight—
When the latter—is put away
I shall meet with Conviction I somewhere met
That Immortality—
Was the Pine at my Window a “Fellow
Of the Royal” Infinity?
Apprehensions—are God’s introductions—
To be hallowed—accordingly—
11.2k
The diverse assortment of enrapturing conviction
Is but cacophony to most other than me,
Discord to the passionate,
Defending concepts they find true
Clamor to the indifferent,
Those value peace and human happiness
Above factual correctness
For years they’ve all, with incessant attempts
Given their utmost to indoctrinate me,
The most easily swayed of all—
But I’ve found in the rupturing of the fervent,
All ideology, ethic, doctrine,
And in the serenity of the agreeably pacific
I’ve found faith, hope—I’m sure that’s my own,
Art is by no means meaningless, I find,
Especially so when inherent by human ability
And ascribed to this lyrical poem I’ve crafted
Consisting of what I, by my means, find true
Diverse conviction is beautiful.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
Dare to live.
Stop insisting on chasing after death.
Stop trying to die.
Quit the grand illusion.
You shall never die.
Grow your wings and fly to the mountaintop
of your world. Breathe stars.
Bravely go alone. Only you can do this.
Regularly in your day--exercise conviction.
Visualize Stars, the Sun.
Golden, fibrous threads
of starlight, of sunlight --
take them in, through the nostrils.
This is nothing less than
soul's power-fuel.
Inhale slowly and experience
the gentle music of love's fire,
as flames would pull up
a chimney stack, up pipes of ovens.
Faith builds with such breath practice.
Greed cooked transformed.
Anger put to rest.
Ignorance surrendering
to ways of knowing.
Prepare that your purpose
shall speak to you.
Breathe starlight.
Are you surprised
that you feel no heat?
Your unique timelessness
awaits your recognition.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, ***** . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.
On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time before
the public ignores the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”
It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC
Change...
a word with a world within
With the power to transform
Visions into victories
Opportunities into accomplishments
Some fear it; some resist it
But not us
We are a breed apart
We challenge the limits of action
We dare to explore new dimensions
And transform tomorrow
With courage and absolute conviction
We DREAM fearlessly,
BELIEVE resolutely
And ACT decisively
And when the odds are against us
We even it out by transforming
all we have & becoming who we are.
BE THE CHANGE
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
Shadows I am, trailing behind you,
Heaving and reversing, for your slightest attention,
Intimate you are not, forgetful you are,
Never do you, have this much conviction.
Noises inside, my head and yours,
Illusive we are, to what matters most,
Perhaps nothing we do, could really save us,
Hating and aching, to that we toast.
Untouched, crippled; and heavily misunderstood,
Arching our ego, that's all we ever could.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
she was like
a wilting flower
drained of all things
that kept the others upright
he was like
a rushing brook
who saw her crumpled and tired,
crowded by overgrown weeds,
and wanted nothing more
than to clear the earth around her
and see her bloom again
so he took all he had
and poured it into her
and when finally the pinkness
had returned to her cheeks
she looked back at him
and saw that
he was now like
a withering shrub
frail and planted in dry clay
and despite the deep conviction
she had in her heart to restore him
like he had restored her
all of her best efforts
left her with with exposed roots
and dirt beneath her fingernails
he wouldn’t let her stay
to continue to try
to quench his thirst
so she left him with a watering can
and promised he’d soon find relief
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
Novice, heed my diction—
The learned, the schooled, the politic,
Are but fools with conviction.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
1302
I think that the Root of the Wind is Water—
It would not sound so deep
Were it a Firmamental Product—
Airs no Oceans keep—
Mediterranean intonations—
To a Current’s Ear—
There is a maritime conviction
In the Atmosphere—
6.9k
You ask me if I'm okay
And I can't even tell you
Because the words break in my throat
Like waves crashing against the cliffside.
How can I look at something I knew
Like a scientific conviction
And believed in with a faith
Stronger than that of god,
And choke out the words,
"How could i still love you,
Through all this pain you've caused?"
I've always been broken,
Something that I've accepted
Like the knowledge that the sun comes up each morning
And goes back down at night.
I never asked for any of it,
And never asked anyone but God and Archangel Micheal
For help.
But you heard the echo of my plea,
And mistook it for a cry for your help.
I never asked it of you
Yet you acted as if I expected you to stop your life
To find and mend the pieces.
In reality,
All I asked for was your support as a friend.
But even that was too much.
Instead,
You ignored me.
Me and my pain.
Maybe you didn't want to deal with it,
And I can assure you that I did not.
But you made me a million promises
And broke every single one.
I suppose you did it to protect yourself,
And through everything,
I've learned that from you.
I've learned to fight for my soul too.
So now I begin writing my goodbyes
Which will probably come to you in a thousand fragments.
But this is it.
The pain and anger over the last 6 months was heart shattering.
I've come to resent you.
For loving you so much that I can't tell you I can't love you anymore.
And even though I cherish and love
The people who laid next to me when I was sick..
Who never left or judged or pitied..
Who were just..
There...
It will hurt every time someone mentions your name
Until the day I die.
And even when they shower me in the light of their smiles,
I will miss you like a bad habit,
And yearn to see your eyes
Like the steely kiss of cold metal on my wrist.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.
Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.
Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.
Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.
Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
I hear a knock upon my door.
Or was it there inside my head, where only ever dread for the things in life I can't obtain remains; No matter how hard I may in one form or another train?
And so I'll sell a piece of my soul yet again; My price of admission to taste love's glory for but a momentary grin.
With you it was so much different.
My heart is still broke, but my real loss is more than conviction.
I lost my heart, my soul, my vision.
A future bleaker than a demonic prediction.
My mind is racing as I try to relax but thoughts of you come rushing back.
I try to close my eyes to snore but there's always a monster lurking behind memory's door.
And as I recalled I saw my cursed fate,
Always here to be here but never to stay.
I'm airport luggage thrown and lost,
Maybe sought another day.
But I'll still love you through any amount of pain.
I've loved before you but never loved in this way: So full of passion and love for who we both are and could be. I'd marry you now and yet I've never stopped you to say that you're such an invaluable friend, and I'm sorry I can't be okay.
I hate that I'm not only jealous but hurt when I shouldn't feel so deeply burnt by the girl that stole my heart; She's so far beyond my worth.
But she came at night and without a knife she took my heart off it's throne in life, and put it kneeling like she had the key. As if some Divine being that, before we had even met, had my heart beat.
Your love for him is clear even from afar,
And so my heart will beat forever subpar.
So confusing are you truly to me.
The one thing I know is you are the one to whom my soul and heart chose to leave me to be.
Maybe heartless and soul-less should go hand in hand? Ripped from the body by something far greater than man.
Something unknowingly more than human, yet divined by human hands.
Ill be content that while I'm still so broke, She can be healed and her love will help her float: And she can finally forgive herself for the wrongs He wrote.
She'll shoulder the pain and strife of life,
With love beside her every night.
I can be okay but never better,
So I write to myself and you all this letter.
I'm high as a kite,
And just as exposed,
I will never not hear the call of my soul.
Depart away so you can hate me,
And close the chapter of my life called meaning.
I want only for you to be whole.
Regardless of cost, repercussion or role.
My love for you will live until dawn rises untouched by Earth's rock.
Yet ever haunting as a ghost who only ever knocks.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
Patriotism is normal
alive and well
vigorous
flying high
Patriotism is voluntary
is love of
is love of country
is a love of and devotion for one's country
Patriotism is when love of your own people comes first
racism
more than flag
too often the refuge of scoundrels
Patriotism is as dogmatic as the old
a kind of religion; it is the egg from which wars are hatched
conviction that this country is superior to all other countries
no excuse for stupidity
Patriotism is alive in america
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 9:16 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
As we shall see infidelity
While seeming to be
The latest fashion
Where there’s conviction
And passion
So even those
Who walk down the aisle
Are often betrayed by words or a smile
Increasingly
We’re beginning to see
Infidelity
Wouldn’t you agree
Let’s keep it real
There’s Bill - (And Camille)
Knows how it feels
When tabloids reveal
The infidelity
That she didn’t see
Though it kept happening
Time and again
Increasingly
We’re beginning to see
Infidelity
Wouldn’t you agree
The unions survive
The husbands and wives
Living separate lives
Check out the archives
So what’s the reason
For their treason
Finding someone to squeeze in
Must be in season
It’s hard to respect
Those you wouldn’t suspect
Of bedding the babysitter
So you can’t blame the wives
For being angry or bitter
Cuz it never occurred
It was the babysitter
Who was preferred
Increasingly
We’re beginning to see
Infidelity
Wouldn’t you agree
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
Step 1: Make the decision.
Step 2: Take the blind leap.
Step 3: Follow through with conviction.
*I think the last is the hardest to keep*.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
#they say love is blind
some speak of it’s weakness
lack of existence
turmoiling persistence
oh how they’re wrong
i’ve seen what it does, felt it's affliction
falling in love, you can’t choose your conviction
***love isn't just blind
it's deaf and so mute***
your words, how they echo
the feel of unrest
i will always remember you, as nothing but best
your memory won't taint
your image, clean, so pure
the meticulous thoughts, and prominent words
things you said, and phrases unspoken
your hesitation and pride
the look in your eyes
the expressive emotion
all led to my demise
i tried moving on
clearly, it failed
i'll never feel free
save yourself, leave me be.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC