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"dissention" poems
Say, what drives a narcissist to feed on their soul Their own being, their whole, a cannibalistic role I fold, into the answers that have never been told Because I disagree that life is less than silver or gold When I was young I was 'old', wiser than age would suggest I never looked from a problem I never strayed from a test I sought to better my self, pushing others away Rising alone but never understanding how I would pay Now look today and see a fate that I crafted off a clean slate Into a plate of half consumed variables that I never ate Or even paid any attention effectively painting dissention And not to mention my descent into a mental detention I locked my self in a prison of a dozen complications A box full of games, puzzles and some mindless sedation No relation to pain, bottomless gain and no patience I snap at every ******* body for the beast I am facing Imagine that you have a paper with some scribbles and lines Now try erasing the marks so the paper's perfect - just try It's impossible because you pretend to leave the past There's always something there to make a scar that will last So now because of my choices I sit alone with these voices Saying "you could do better", to me they're nothing but noises So now I write my emotions so that the world might just hold 'em Just ignoring commotion 'cause you can pass 'em or smoke 'em
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
Selfish
The Slow-Bullet by rgpage In the early days of  Viet Nam the American draft was going strong. Young men in their prime of life, were forced and herded into world strife. A generation of America’s best, were then brought home and laid to rest. Wall Street smiled, the money flowed the “fat Cats” called it money owed. In towns and cities big and small, families waited, worried, and cried. Groups appeared, dissention grew. "Mothers grab your son’s and hide." There were those who felt their duty strong, to take the leap toward blood and strife with McNamara herding them along. Known to the grunts as “Mac the Knife.” The madness grew to a global scale with those that were for and those against. In bombing, selective targets became the norm keeping the rest of the world from harm. With those who didn’t feel their duty strong, a path to the north they took. They packed what they could, burned their cards and paused for one last look. With this some parents felt relief, while others felt the disgrace. Of  seeing the grief so many went through after having their futures erased. The war took over 58,000 American lives; men and women both, (before we flew away). Wall Street got their wages for blood, with broken lives in pain, many thousands more would pay. With thousands more that were yet to be lost, after returning home. Physically and mentally scarred, even those seeming perfectly whole. Then saying good-by to the ones they loved in their own special way. They stoically waited for the slow-bullet to come to finally take them away… Suicide has taken 3 or 4 times the lives than the war took. My heart cries for every last one of them…Robert G. Page, Viet Nam Vet. ‘66-’67.
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Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
The Slow-bullet
The Slow-Bullet by rgpage In the early days of  Viet Nam the American draft was going strong. Young men in their prime of life, were forced and herded into world strife. A generation of America’s best, were then brought home and laid to rest. Wall Street smiled, the money flowed the “fat Cats” called it money owed. In towns and cities big and small, families waited, worried, and cried. Groups appeared, dissention grew. "Mothers grab your son’s and hide." There were those who felt their duty strong, to take the leap toward blood and strife with McNamara herding them along. Known to the grunts as “Mac the Knife.” The madness grew to a global scale with those that were for and those against. In bombing, selective targets became the norm keeping the rest of the world from harm. With those who didn’t feel their duty strong, a path to the north they took. They packed what they could, burned their cards and paused for one last look. With this some parents felt relief, while others felt the disgrace. Of  seeing the grief so many went through after having their futures erased. The war took over 58,000 American lives; men and women both, (before we flew away). Wall Street got their wages for blood, with broken lives in pain, many thousands more would pay. With thousands more that were yet to be lost, after returning home. Physically and mentally scarred, even those seeming perfectly whole. Then saying good-by to the ones they loved in their own special way. They stoically waited for the slow-bullet to come to finally take them away… Suicide has taken 3 or 4 times the lives than the war took. My heart cries for every last one of them…Robert G. Page, Viet Nam Vet. ‘66-’67.
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39
There exists a mystical and quadruple representation of words, which is likened to a dictatorial Superstate, where translation is subject to that which is spoken, heard, written and read within the context of trans-national capitalism. As we gaze from beyond the glow of the pulsating circumference, we can humbly acknowledge the ludicrous predicament of the many who are ruled by the few. The parameters of this earthen citizenship may be somewhat characterized by embracing the perceived benefits of the system and a state of financially intoxicated anosognosia. However, as we traverse this metaphysical cataclysm where the majority votes of public arrangement diametrically oppose absolute law and that which is deemed to be reasonable; our compulsory co-operation self-regulates with a cardiovascular beat of semantic propaganda and monopolized dissention, where the relinquished rights of our revered forefathers have been re-written by coercive legislators in the name of socio-political equality. The philosophy of meaning and political expression both buries into and removes her gorgeous face from the cuniform textures of Sahara catacombs, where we ****** relate and disengage from the **** with tyranny.
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Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
A Voluntary and Sophisticated Conformity?
Omission She lies awake on her back Trying to remember when she lost her pack Sack, the memories into her face It ruins her temporary happy place Space, sometimes she feels she needs to be far Locks herself away into a tiny jar Mare, her skin it's bruised and scarred Help her soul it's broken and charred Barred, she bangs at her rusty cell Scared of rejection she endures the smell Sell, her heart to no one she won't Until the return of her body she lount Sewn't, the buttons to mend her heart But the razors bent and the scars ripped apart Dart, into the darkest pit of despair Help her cry cause she's mentally impaired Scared, she cuts her wrists for a reason Only person that cared was farther than next season Lesion, on her heart the trust and love Only gave her body when push came to shove Above, her demons trampled her A feeling in her chest much like stuffed fur Stir, the *** that makes her finish this life Just like bread its easily cut with a knife Strife, it all all ends with violent dissention She falls to the floor in mortal penitintion Attention, ladies and gentleman may I say a couple words All she ever wanted was to fly free like the birds Herds, of souls wandering in deep cognition Now you can see her body at the local mortician Omission
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
Omission
Words spoken to paint a picture Of a life so grand the perfect mixture Of love, joy, peace and happiness The freedom to pursue a measure of success A life with no dissention but only tranquility To walk hand in hand in a spirit of humility To work together to reach our goals No longer two halfs but finally a whole Freedom to exercise gifts through self expression Never tearing down or have bad intentions Building up in the spirit of love One that's so pure and sent from above The ideal life portrayed through words But time will tell what'll really unfurl A simple disagreement turns into WWIII I got question for you is the grass really green?
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Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
{Is The Grass Really Greener?}
Close your eyes. Take some time, Are you feelin fine? Beginning to unwind... Be there battles, Cries of ancient pains. These lands arent ours to claim. Dissention, rebellions and shame, The fatal flaws of power... The illusions it contains. What do you want from our fileds of grain? Or our mineral rich soils... Dirt cheap oil. Taking leave with barrels... If so prepare to do battle. Cast the lands you walk asunder, Pay attention...catch the thunder. Be careful once ye ponder, Rein in your thoughts of yonder.
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC
To Ponder Upon Yonder
I feel so alone Floating in a sea Of humanity This mystery Is beyond me Where can I go? If I slip Out of the stream They will know. Our henchmen Do not permit Dissention Or Absention I am frozen in time Stuck in an unwritten rhyme Sean Hunt See video that inspired this poem at: https://vimeo.com/162596231
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
The Unwritten Rhyme
*Happily self occupied, absorbed in my day now I ponder the innocence of what I’m about, Abstractions aside, there’s a sinister dysfunction In gliding with Mozart and yearning to shout. To whisper with wisdom in humourless spirit Enables cognisance that all is not well, To float with the Angels and dine with the Devil Moots broaching with whales in a torment of Hell. Oils on a canvass in broad strokes of muted Cacophony’s clamour in tympani’s roar, The contradiction of peaceful demeanour When pulses ignite in a rage on the floor. Then...... With impetus found in a midnight sonata The calm of a full moon’s light on the face Reason returns in a soothing dissention Of kindness’s kiss and the luck of good grace. This man can engender the passions required To smooth the waters and calm the tides, Intelligent catalyst found in a teardrop Wherein lies the nourishment loving provides. This man can engender the salve and solution, Can rectify tormenting wrong in the soul, With warmth in humanity’s lyrical laughter In quenching the blaze of black anger's role.* Marshalg 15 May 2014
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
Quenching the Blaze
you've always been quick to make friends a social butterfly but about you latest one, I must question you , Why? the more time you spend together the more it ***** you in you don't give a **** that you've confessed but I still have an shred of hope that you'll give up that b.s. I won't rat you out make the decision on your own yet so far deep affection is all you've shown put down the malboro that dreaded cigarette i know you love attention but its the cause of this dissention please stop this terrible affection
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Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:05 PM UTC
a new friend
In frustration he sat down on the bench outside the closed down railway station and wrote of his dissention. But in a moment that was lit by pure genius and invention He decided there and then to make a statement of his intention. In fits and starts he penned those parts that appealed to his sense of duty but true to form and as sure as I was born on a Wednesday I knew there was no way the statement would ever be made. This case is laid to rest. A stocktaker takes no stock A paradox? Point duty can be blunt when hiding or when on the hunt but shunting these random thoughts aside I train myself to pay attention to the statement that details tales of an unpaid rental. But no mention of me being mental or unsound. No sanitoriums for me or phychopaths that come for tea. Just peace and the bobbing of a broken time that floats in brine a hat that doesn't fit my head a statement that I've never read intentions that I never made not laid to rest at all but instant recall is what sets me apart and makes me the best. Test me Test me Testing, testing two three Just checking in To check that you've been listening.
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:05 AM UTC
The joinery
By: Cedric McClester Republicans start to shop If their candidate’s not on top And their poll numbers suddenly drop Because they’re labeled a flop So those who used to push For the heir apparent Bush Are sitting on their **** Wishing they had Hindu-kush And that new-jack Rubio What is it they think he knows That allows his cash to grow They will reap just what they sow Now let me mention Teddy Cruz Who hasn’t paid his dues And when asked he has refused But that should be old news Although Carly Fiorena Has a tough demeanor Trump once asked, “Have you seen her?” When he wanted to demean her And then there’s Dr. Carson More Don Rickles than Johnny Carson Soft spoken spreading arson With incendiary parsing Now that I have your attention Though it may earn you dissention Some I just choose not to mention They’re beyond my comprehension So that leaves us Donald Trump Someone that they’d like to dump But he says, “Kiss my **** See he’s energized and pumped Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
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Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
REPUBLICANS START TO SHOP
You were trembling, Job of the prairies--- a supernova born with angel hair optics gnarled in the sweat of an oil soaked sun; ****** to the soil by nectarless thirst. Even your stains were bright with haloes; Dappled like the moon with jewelish fire--- Even your scabs were disjointed lights--- in center of your temple, white like tile. A quaff of dissention and love laden As you stood fragile as fruitless skin--- Bent to my presence, a crooked crystal; All swallowed and refracted, like liquor. Your cat-eyes were so bitterbright, shadowy Inconsolably shining enormous fires, dark. Your blackened opal void melting to nectar for incestuous parasite lapping it in twain. I loved you, and your autophagical bones; A dimming resplendence on a crooked bridge where they sipped the springtime's deathour--- where I kissed your soul in spring's deathour.
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
Untitled
Ive had my fill Of every ill That the world Keeps trying ...to instill I've had my fill I've had...I've had...I've had I've had my fill Keep telling me lies Even though ... You realize That you no longer Even have to try and hide Them! Behind .......a thin disquise I think that means That the primed machines Are ready to go..... .....so.... They don't care if we know Which way the future leans I do believe That there are those Who do conceive Of just ... ..one more heave And that will take it Take it all the way All the way down To the ground ! Where others wait - With a rope To quickly quash...every hope And celebrate Once they have it bound And all tied down Watch and learn From those who spurn All the things that we hold dear As they tell us whats what Then turn a deaf ear And it's then as they twist and bend And rend the truth By attitudes and platitudes They separate us ...Into classes All the while They clinch their teeth To hide the smile Apprehension encouraged By descending deeper and deeper Into dissention Convoluted amplituded Learned from those With whom ... ...they colluded Those enemies of the free But still...you may be One of those who still denies What is RIGHT ... .....In front Of your eyes Just so you know When that sun has set Don't waste time waiting For the light of dawn If you bought the darkness Then thats the ... ...the future you will get I've had my fill....of every ill That the world keeps trying ... ....to instill !
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Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 9:59 PM UTC
Every ill
Spoken into a beam of light; A lifted weight of eternal might. Trancending toward expansion's core; Awakened in whom we're carried for. A uniting in breath at deep request; As the rhythym of longing inside our chests, Becomes a symphony of tympany pattering the sky, Releasing intent in the dissention of I. In the embrace of all, in Love, as one; Truly then has prayer begun.
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
Prayer
dozing or writing poetry always seems so much better than the alternative going out- stale ******* package left open world spoiled. Don't cry over spilt milk don't cry over the bed you made or this tower you built. you were in on it. every over bred chicken ground and breaded we rename our stupidity all cutesy. So if that's the only way I can appeal to you the only way you can hear so you might heal, then take a chicken nugget of wisdom and go check out the kitchen. What are they cooking up? the putrid toxins of dissention racism named "culture" police brutality spelled "justice" hidden organized normalized. News sources with the long-standing trust of the public but they're slowly becoming a part of the budget. Cheap food and the six o'clock news commercial break for cigarettes and ***** we're spoon fed and we choose it. Plastic bred poison fed under the guise of choice and an easier life. Hard nights bar fights at least the taco bell is open past midnight. While your brain is soup eat a little more sludge and when you're uncomfortable and confused well,.. I told you to run. C.e.M. 8.14.15
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Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
opinionated
impassioned rapture preacher standing upon a pulpit shouting his flock held in sway wide-eyed and under the hypnotic spell “amen” and “hallelujah” float towards outstretched arms clad in black banging fists and utilizing rising inflections messages of hate and dissention fall onto interested and impressionable ears frightened youth peer into shadows ask Yahweh for protection cry to Allah for love pray Jesus will save them from imaginary spooks created by elderly pedophiles bent on the emotional and physical destruction of their own constituents clasped hands, wringing begging on bended knee for some semblance of peace to befall and bless their broken bodies –
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Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
fictitious agenda
By: Cedric McClester Long live Scalia Now that he’s dead A Supreme Court Justice Who’s gone on ahead Though I disagreed With the decisions I’ve read Just for the moment Let me put them to bed I take pause Before starting to vet The country owes him A hell of a debt He served with distinction And made many upset Now is the time To forgive and forget What can I say That hasn’t been said Now that the man Is clearly dead Certainly not That he made me see red Because of his decisions That I learned to dred Some see his death As Divine Intervention One less conservative For me to make mention We’ve lost the bane Of the Court’s dissention And he didn’t go out Receiving a pension Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
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Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
LONG LIVE SCALIA
That's IT! I've taken All I can take! I'm gonna take it No more! Gonna Walk out of that door! Slam it shut! And Walk away Walk away From It All! YOU Can live In Your dissention YOU Can live in YOUR mess YOU Can live with Your Ideals And What YOU Thinks Best! I Wont Come back! I've made up mind,I won't be back, It's DEFININATe This time! How much! How much Do You think I Can take?! Of this DISENCHANTED state?! It's All YOUR own doing! NOTHING 'I' Ever made! I Will admit It seemed Good At times... But Then It gets to you Screws Your heart and mind Screws your heart and mind! It's Not Worth My TIME! I've Made MY Decision OR Maybe I've been Driven To Walk away Walk away From It ALL!
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May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 7:22 PM UTC
Take No More
JACOB AND ESAU, Twin brothers were they, But each was different, And went his separate way. Jacob the younger represents Men of subtlety, Esau the elder, represents men who are worldly. Jacob, one day with help from his Mother, swindled  the birth rite from  Esau his brother, The dissention it caused,  continues to this day, Affecting every nation, including the U.S.A. DAVID AND GOLIATH Most everyone knows about David and Goliath, The contrast between them, not just physical, But more importantly, spiritual. Goliath, protected with armor from head to toe, And young David with one smooth stone.... well the rest of the account...I'm sure you know. JESUS AND JUDAS In the Bible many contrast there are, But of Jesus and Judas the greatest by far. Judas the greedy betrayer of Jesus, For a few pieces of silver, Betrayed his greatest friend, Who loved him  to his end From Jerry Howarth's Book of Poems
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Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
CONTRASTS
TO BE FREE Will some ever find what it is like to be kind ,lost with black blocking their own true mind What if they come to me and I disagree isn't my own contempt simply helping their cause Blindness shielded through kindness isn't deeply true to oneself,opaque is not clearly defined Happening with hatred is so easy to see,always quick to show the others flaws Happiness has left us looking for hidden liberation,always seeing good will be revised To remain neutral is emotionally futile, one is just part of a whole ,finding a future or grasping at straws To service our own sovereignty should we learn to feel at all levels,will we be compromised Breathing in Dissention breeds a virus bringing bitterness to deep within us,can we perceive the waiting storms With life comes light felt from within as dull,bright,elation,euphoria seem natural but has the alienation become galvanized Following paths brings changing news illustrations laid out for our views Choosing between friction or jubilation will design the life and it's rewards.R.C.
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Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 5:02 AM UTC
TO BE FREE
#D Vanlandingham *ah, this rolling  this flowing//// are we all not the same  when the sun sets sail.. when the tides, no longer take out,  but brings in--     arms at sides,  all? Who steals from who, then  at that time when the music within the dance   mesmerizes all..   and there is no longer place for dissention..   or strive, for gain? Everything becomes seen,   when there is nowhere left to hide and  with the full removal of judgment there is only  light inside (but it has to be wanted, more than the sin, of holding on) where then  is there shadow when all that blocks,   has up and gone.. the sun-filled sails that bring us home on tall ships   we each, on-- main.. fore,  and mizzen;  staunchly-braced amidst an in-the-face-of-death, laugh.. shrouds, proudly tight   causing   the most  beautiful  of harmonics, from fore boom.. through jib,  to gaff-- A war-less armada,  this stunning fleet of peace sailing together,  upriver..  through the jungle// and into the magical advent...   into the beautiful world,  of full release.* #
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Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 9:30 PM UTC
Advent
You can wise up to the situation by checking out every possible combination and if that gets you to your destination why not? But it feels like we're being put in detention if we dare to utter or even to mention freedom, dissention is a no. no. So we do it with a nod and on the fly get by by being sly, hey, it's a living so don't ask why wise up.
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
The 25 to Pimlico