I am Amadioha the earth goddess  of Igbos,Ngai wa mugo wa gatheru
who created the nine daughters of mumbi ,and Gikuyu a man,
I am Wele of Dini ya Musambwa,creator of Elijah Masinde
I am  Katonda the creator of Kintu and Namiremeb hills at Makerere
I am eshu the god  of the  Ijimere and Achebe and Soyinka,
behold today  I stand in Egypt,where the sun comes from
where I similarly  stood billion and billion of years ago,
to create all the stars the moon and the universe
not even known to the son of man until today,
this is where i created my first born of  humanity;
dear Africa the generations of Negroes,
the beacon of my eye, i enjoy a look at you  minus blinkers,
i stand here a fresh to correct my creation mistakes
i formerly made, when creating my dearest son in Africa;
Kenneth Binyavanga wa wainaina, who hails at Nakuru hills,
he is the sweetest song to my heart, classical music of my ears
i contrite much , as i were not to create you a blended blood
from an  Omuganda  girl and  an Omugikuyu  boy,
i  was to create you a pure Muganda, like Okot P' Bitek,
or a pure Kenyan , like Francis Davis Imbuga,
i were to control your academic fortune , that you  don't start,
your maiden education  Lena Moi primary school,
an epiphany of a divorced woman,spelling curse of wifelessness,
on those that pass through the very  school , i was wrong.
had i known i could have not  sent Cleophas to work
in your fathers home , for him  to sleep in the horse shed,
cursed is the ******* memory of what he did in that quarter
as you preened  and eavesdropped outside like a hen
listening to the eagle's contralto,
why did i sent Wambui to be your nurse maid ,only to preach
the gospel according to the power of peasant ****** to you,
she tangled her buttocks before your **** eyes,senting
your young heart to sensuous extremities, Wambui ,a she devil,
Wow! Kalenjins are bad neighbour, they are dark and ugly
slow in the brain and sadistically malicious in the heart,
i  know not why i made them to abode with you within the
great valley of kenya, they throng schools and they cannot learn,
but i have now held them captive, i have made them your footstool
for ever and ever my dear son ,as you hold the scepter of power,
i goofed beyond  remedy by all ethereal to send you to Njoro boys school,
for you to meet Sigalla, that extra-masculine Sigalla , the ******* hunter,
i gave you wrong sisters, they made you put on your mothers dress
and her long hair,then you posed to the female public as an Americanness
your romantic number was fwive fwive fwive fwive , fwive at New-york,
i wonder why i did not give you enough power of languages
so that you generate a numberless fantabulousies and Goalies and so forth,
only to borrow from a young woman;Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
the  yellow sun's slapslap  slapslap slapslap slapslap slapslap   slapslapp!
Mangu Boys School to you was a blessing , had it not my fault,
of giving you a mutton headed faculty full of annentcy,
that went for the persiflagery and aesthetic phantasmagoria,
in the art and theatre prose and poetry; the Bigger Thomas Lawyer,
your only  misplaced  mentor  that gave birth to what i love in you ;
hence i am writting about this place now,this place kenya,
folly of folly is when i goofed to take a natural writter like you,
to commerce class in the land of apartheid, Nadine Gordimer's  front
that sired Brenda Fasie a top Lesbian, the song bird of my times
as you all know we the gods also jealously love,
she only charmed you with her naked ****
swinging like a pendulum on the  musical stage,
after her communique of being a top lesbian,she call it Africa,
o! no,  Africa never came from Lesbians, it comes from simple nature;
mother and father, in natural and collective  heterosexuality,
You only saw and revved in dope culture in the cubbyhole of Victory,
and hoped clubs from Dazzle to the rest , in hunt of  your boyhood,
sadly to be befallen by dark clouds  in victim-hood of optical nutrition,
abiding among the  tall, beautiful, smoking bunch of Lesbians.
My son, from  today and henceforth,  i the Africanus,
the god of African fertility,poetry and art,
humbly chose to recreate you the king of kings and queens,
of African story telling  at global status, to tell all African songs,
beyond sham fallacy that gay and Lesbian literature
are the begotten  apex of modern and Global literature
these are only white lies featuring a death bound imperialism.

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)



In response to the United States versus European Union  deliberations on Ukrainian- Russian stalemate  that were concluded on 25th may  2014 at Brussels , in which President Barrack Obama looked at the Putin’s political  behaviour in global set up of the postmodern era as a weakness, I beg to take my position within my capacity as global citizen, to go contrary to this stand of Barrack Obama by positing that President Vladimir Putin is a fact of global urgency , but instead it is Obama who suffers from universal class intellectual deficiency often  observed as insensitive rhetoric but branded as unmatched eloquence.
Firstly, let me give the sequential enumerations of facts which validate my position and hence this discourse. Barely the facts are; Ethnicity, Islam, terrorism, Guantanamo prison, Sino-African relations,Arab-springs,politics and human psychology and American political culture as state and an international citizen.
President Obama has always refused and rejected his ethnic connexion with Africa, he always refer to Africa as the land of ancestors. This is a stand that has most irritated Africans. Both in Africa and in the diaspora. Obama never learned a simple pre-industrial wisdom that every man needs ethnic identity for positive reasons. Because as per now Obama still stands as a Kenyan and as well as an American. This connotes a political fact that he is neither a complete Kenyan nor an absolute American in terms of political emotionalism. The empirical position of all these abode in the fact that there are a thousand and one Americans who feel politically belittled to be led by a first generation African American. Thus, a leadership fact has to be indentified in this juncture by inferring that, their voter consciousness as Americans is not fit to be crystallized as emotional resource to be enjoyed by Obama politics. In a sharp contrast Vladimir Putin has acquired substantial political strengths from positive recognition of Russian ethnicity. Putin recognizes Estonia, Crimea, Georgia, Serbia, Moldova and all small and poor lands around Russia in terms of ethnic connection to Russia. He calls these lands as the dear burial grounds in which Russian military heroes were buried. In a comparison, America has a lot of racial connection with Africa, but president Obama has earnestly worn blinkers on this. He only looks at Africa skeptically as a land of injured civilization in which terrorists abode. He has been wrong. African folk wisdom has a lesson that, you may not need your tribe in peace, only to need it in war.
Why did president Obama masquerade as a Muslim when he was vying for his first term? Moslems feel that he duped them only to turn around and **** their leaders. In Islam it is a heinous sin to pose as a Muslim when you are not one. President Obama mobilized the plotting which had to occasion the killings of Muammar Gadaffi and Osama Bin Laden. These two incidents fuelled high strength in anti-American feelings among the societies of the Arab world. Reasons are that both Gadaffi and Bin Laden deserved fair trial the same way Henry Kissinger was not tried when he perpetrated macabarous mass killing in Vietnamcong war. Muslim community least expected financial and ideological funding of the political hullabaloo known as the Arab Spring, through which heroic Moslem leaders were killed, to come from Obama government. But the contrary was surprisingly a fact. The meaning of this is that , in this tussle of show of mental mighty between Putin and Obama, All African and Arab states are behind Putin, China is behind Putin. Maybe it is Tanzanian and Ghanaian presidents who are in Obama camp, but not the Moslems in Tanzanians and Intellectuals in Ghana. The perceived rationale for this positioning inter alias is that the Number of North African Moslems in Guantanamo prison is the highest of all the detained terrorist suspects.
China is all over Africa today; African schools are teaching Chinese languages with passion more than they do with English language. The University of Nairobi in Kenya, has established the most prestigious Kungu Fu tze institute. Students in this institute are more self-confident and hopeful than those in schools of English and literature. China has designed a special business city for Africans, known as the chocolate city. Africans are more dignified in this city than their counterparts in Chicago.Negroes in Chicago of today still taste a vestigial pepper of negative racism on daily basis. All these conditions have graduated into appalling status from George Bush high school to Barrack Obama state University. These at times confirm the Russian Joke that Barrack Obama is an avatar of George Bush without a Nobel Prize. A political condition not evident during the Reagan and Clinton administration. Obama did not benchmark the shrewd equation of Vladimir Putin; good politics is equal to putting people at center stage.
Psychology of politics has a theory that being eloquent is not a connotation of political effectiveness. It may be sheer rhetoric. This is not a necessary variable for effective policy formulation and implementation. History of politics also has a testimony in confirmation of the same. The French society goofed when it fell victim of Napoleon eloquence, same to the Germans when they became emotional captives of Adolf ****** due to the razor sharp garrulousness of Adolf ******, which he adopted when selling **** values to German voters. In Africa Tanzania is the poorest country without hope of initiating any development this century. And all this is a preposterous protégé of utopian communalism planted through eloquent tools of prosaic socialism wielded by the articulate Julius Nyerere. The American society has also gone into annals of history to have collectively failed in its political choices as a national society by succumbing to rhetorical but policy insensitive conference management knack of the one Barrack Obama. These have happened in a capitalist conduit in which capitalism is killed by its success, just the same way which ignorance is never murdered but at most commits suicide.


Alexander K Opicho, is a social researcher at Sanctuary Research agencies ltd., in Eldoret, Kenya.  He is also a lecturer for Governance Research Methods.

There was one night that we hung out and goofed off, doing absolutely nothing serious.
    He told me his dream, his number one fantasy was to have *** with a mermaid.
I giggled.
    Hours later, I admitted that I wanted to be Ariel at Disneyland when I grew up.
He said 'that's so cute!
    Our flirting lasted hours. That's the last I've seen of him, but 2 months later I still
    think about that night every day.  And every day, I just think:
*Kiss the girl.

Intimacy framed
and hung for all to see
by none other than me
put you to shame,

and I fell off my ladder
hanging our moment
and you allowed me to
hit the cold ground
face first with a smack.

I kiss the ground.

I would have rather kissed your lips
but you can't trust me
not to tell.

Our hearts aflame
once with passion and desire
until this situation dire
burned them in a different way.

They're now charred forever
when you look in my eyes
all you see is a liar,
all I see is ice.

And to the man I credit this whole charade to:

Your mouth is as big as mine.
You should have known when I had said
my secret that it should go dead
to you and everything would work out fine.

And I laugh about it with you
but on the inside
I'm stabbing you with knives
as hot as her eyes were
when she found out I had let it slip.

That's pretty ******* hot.

Believe me, I know.

His days are filled with books and a beautiful view.
He reads all day, then watches the sunset, every day from his room.
All kinds of books that penetrates him to another world,
for as kind as he is; at school he tries to go unnoticed. Find a corner and curl.

Nobody knows this boy who has so much to offer.
He doesn't get a chance, 'cause the cool kids like to see him suffer.
He slowly peeks around the corner, to see if they're around.
He has to get to English, the bell just rang the final sound.

Almost there he see's the door,
picking up the pace he trips to the floor.
He hears laughing and see's them pointing at his falling body.
It's the same everyday. Is there someone real he thinks. anybody?

Late that evening just finishing his latest book,
he goes to his view just to take his evening look.
Something was different, there was beauty he couldn't see.
Definitely something different, there was odd colors' behind his red oak tree.

Adjusting his view to perhaps get a better peek,
he saw a beauty he couldn't explain. He tried to holler down, but couldn't speak.
She came out from behind the tree,
Who was she he thought, for he could not see.

Cautiously he walked outside,
usually reserved he didn't know why.
He saw her just staring like a woman with so much on her mind.
He wanted to speak to her: what would he say? Just be kind.

"Hello", he said, as he took a step closer.
She turned around, and it was over.
The boy never knew something so beautiful could be so close.
For after a romance novel, from his dreams they arose.

After her initial shock she said "Hi, you must be my new neighbor."
"I just moved here from Florida, I'm not use to the chill."
The boy mesmerized thought he took one too many pills.
He tried to talk, but it just wouldn't flow, and as she stared at him
he saw her face contort, and she started to go.

He said "wait don't leave. I'm just not use to people talking to me."
He was actually a handsome boy if they would take the time to see.
He said, "my name is Cole and I live in the white house just there."
He pointed to it and noticed she didn't look. Instead at him she stared.

Her gaze made him uncomfortable, for he thought it a prank,
but the more he looked the deeper he sank.
She said, "Cole, I like that name,
mine is Lila." Lila Verame."

He saw her shiver and recalled her comment about the chill,
so he took off his jacket, and placed in around her hoping the warmth she would feel.
"Thank you" she said as she looked in his eyes.
Cole said "your welcome, this should keep you dry."

Lila giggled and said, "what do you mean?"
"There is a storm coming. I can smell it. After awhile you sense things that don't have to be seen.
She never heard a boy talk like this,
she said "so after awhile living here, there'll be things I can sense?"

Cole puzzled, said "sorry if I talk a little strange."
Lila smiled and said "no I like it, from where I'm from it's a nice change."
In Florida it's all about how good one looks in bikini's.
It's nice down here to have you talk about the scenery.

Her green eyes sparkled as he talked like never before.
Lila laughed, smiled, and even seemed interesting all the more.
So many thoughts were exchanged before the first rain drop fell,
and as Cole walked Lila home, she knew there was more to him than anyone could tell.

Back in his room he pondered the day and thought; just wait til school.
I'll be a ghost; just made a made up fool.

Cole didn't sleep as he thought what would transpire.
It was a small school and she surely would burn like a candlelit fire.
Being new and so beautiful,
It was going to be interesting for sure. Very eventful.

Anxiously and nervous he looked in the mirror,
no matter what he did, he knew he would be inferior.

The steps leading inside came faster than he ever could remember,
God why couldn't we have had a huge snow storm like it does in December?

He stepped inside and sure enough,
there stood Lila with the boys who thought they were so tough.
He avoided contact hoping not to be seen.
especially from Lila. Lila Varame.

The day went on and not one class did he have with her.
Although sad, at least she wouldn't see all the trouble the cool guys stirred.

Finally at lunch, walking outside,
He found his spot. His spot to hide.
Today seemed different for more guys sat at the cool spot.
Then he saw why. Lila, they swarmed to her like flies do to the rot.

She seemed confused and not liking all the racket,
and then his eyes lit up, as he saw her with his jacket.
No it couldn't be. If only she knew how Cole got treated.
He wouldn't fight, for everyday he went home defeated.

Finding courage he never knew within,
he strolled the cool kids way confident and with a grin.
Lila saw him for the first time that day,
and the smile on her face couldn't be contained.

He stopped as he noticed her smile,
their eyes never leaving each other all the while.
No, no, no, this can't be.
I'm just Cole. Why would she be looking at me.

But she was looking at him and walking all the same,
and then he heard the cool kids laughing saying his name.
It's over he thought, now she will see,
here they come to humiliate me.

A fire started to burn deep inside,
no more he thought not this time.
As they made their way,
he stared in her eyes feeling something. No matter what he was going to stay.

They teased and goofed trying to make him feel alone,
but with Lila looking he stood like a marble stone.

Through all the jokes he stood staring at her.
"I've been looking for you," she said. "Please get me away from them nerds."

For the first time in his life Cole didn't go home and read a book,
he spent it with Lila, and in her hands his she took.

The boy, the nerd, got the most beautiful girl in school,
and deep down she was so kind too.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months.
Cole was the new man in school. He was even blunt.

What if I told you that Cole and Lila found what some don't believe.
What if I told you they were soul mates. Is that something you could conceive?
Well in this book Cole found love and not through they eyes of a character in a book.
In the moment of opportunity. The opportunity he took.

He could have kept to his novels and his evening sunsets,
but he saw beauty and he took that chance.
Who would have know their love would have reacted.
who would have known, he'd find love by sharing his jacket.

Some people never get the chance,
to show their is more to them than what you think.
Just take the time open your ears,
or you could miss out on something special....faster than a blink...

Hey guys
Guess what!
I've been drinking since 8 PM yesterday evening
It's going on 4 AM.
Whiskey and watered down, or stale, cola.
And I still don't feel like socking some random
Bystander
In the face.
Right hook
For no reason at all.
In Latrobe
Pistolvania,
Because that's how you prove strength.
That's how you show your dominance.
I guess.

I beg to disagree.
Tunnel vision's setting in. No holding back now.

I don't give a **** who you are.
I don't give a **** what you're made of.
If you're ready to lay hands on
My father,
And my brother,
Know full and well that you just dug your own ******* grave.

I will pull you off of my brother.
I will make you submit.
And you will know "you done goofed"
As you and yours would put it so beautifully.

The man you once respected for holding his own
Is now the man who holds your fate.

By: Cedric McClester

Sixty miles an hour
The train came down the track
A car full of teenagers
Were dead on impact
Cos they ignored the warning sign
And here’s a sad fact
All that’s left now is
Their blood on the tracks

Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks

It started as an outing
They were headed for the beach
But that’s a destination
They weren’t destined to reach
There’s a lesson here somewhere
For us to teach
Trying to out run a train
Might be too great a reach

Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks

Blame it on bad luck
Or the folly of youth
Blame it on sad circumstance
Or the awful truth
Blame it on an errant chance
Someone must have goofed
Blame it on what you want
But their deaths are the proof

Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks

It’s so very hard
For the families to take
As they share fond memories
At each of their wakes
Where the thought occurs
Had they just applied brakes
They might be alive today
Someone says for heaven’s sake

Blame it on bad luck
Or the folly of youth
Blame it on sad circumstance
Or the awful truth
Blame it on an errant chance
Someone must have goofed
Blame it on what you want
Their deaths are the proof

Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks
Blood on the tracks


Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.

She went to Russia as a student
To study fashionable nuclear technology
At the communist Patrice Lumumba University
At the center of ideologue creating city of Moscow,
She went there an accomplished total ******
No African eye had ever seen her naked bossom
She came from the western region of Africa
A girl so couth in all the platforms of life;
In manners, dress and ****** appetite,
With only education as the prime focus of her heart;
To bag a science degree in her African leather wallet
Under her arm pit, sandwiching culture and discipline.
But communist racism turned her into an ape *****,
All the tricks of European racism were employed on her,
The young girl lost her seed of self-worthwhile sensibilities,
She conceded that perhaps she was a daughter of zinjanthropus,
In the land of dignified civilisation of the Russian humanity
Where communism struggles to achieve universal Godliness
As ***** blackness strives to achieve universal communism,
In this negative personality feat, my dear daughter goofed,
A poor girl of Africa joined communist *** workers market,
And hence the door was opened to communist loutishness,
Comrades came in arms and went out, to collectivize her love
Making her ****** rights state property, subjected to proletariat dictatorship,
Only to suffer the bane of the time on her complain of woman rights,
She was declared as an African ******* in Moscow,
Suffering from incorrigible explosive African anger,
***** irascibility never seen any where in mother Russia
Only capable to be corrected in Siberian prison .

Can you know how much I want you in the parking lot
to be strung out like meter maids in a fiddle
against my cheek and hard shoulder relayed
avoiding no string explanations but easy riding
stretched out beyond once at a Beyoncé concert
just to see your halo tyres screech echoes
aglow in the ccs of my tiny mind
as it wrestles with your personal youi toy issues
like a playful puppy with a soft-fix-rated wish list
to bite a whole lotta wish bits of open road can you
bare to test how serrated tongues kiss in tune

it's a don't miss love once thought I can fixate on
sense passion peach scent parking zone zany catch
pitching selfies of us two so perfecto we're in pinches
clinching made-up rows with post-cuticular itch scratch
u-turn buff out delecto smiley multi-teethy smooches
a no blame game mile after mile lost in the now
distracted in your put me through mobile beeps
full on not coping in the full brunt of my own alone bed
we motel back to hands off places
into back-out but no back-off welcomes

like a newly opened up sink whole from car to sofa
we click an unbuckle so well whenever choice strapped
telling goofed dippy love yous in nuggets kilo unlocked
staking times to care unextractable from distractions
wacky made from all your spills of tickle-tacky flesh
not wondering if its drive away thrills will go to waste
it's great transferring the apricot dream deposit as soon as
we dessert amuse each other after another amazing inference
goodnight speak for can I never come down from this highway

more and more under the covers of darkness accepting
without a hundred replica 'oh... don't' thanks
about who amongst our friends we can invite due to starving
for a combination of something they think we might be cooking
because we hate surprising add-in too except samfaina sauce
the spice of safe healthier for the solar farm morning recovery
your orange sunjuice extras converting tact without put downs
into staying cool out of the fridge and try not wanting to be set
in ways runny over your chin causing poaching without a permit

I know how it looks but I can't face not facing you
that wrinkle in your nose when it twitches to say
I see where you're going with this enroute idea
and pull me into the fast lane for the unbelievable
believed fully in you for a lie moment
needing you flat on your face and up front indecent
with the café latté grounds for chatting late
you gave me such a let's revisit French roast stare
you melted the café glacé I saw inside with a party intuition

the cheer me sense you uptake and bring to any cold space
by star walk in **** roles enough to water any dry as dust pan
slowly across with room for all eyes following
and brush aside arguments
so I can stay here tonight?
OK I'll drop my things in the got it all together
now on a successful detour
hearing your exalted exam declaration arrive "yes" in the mail
a result with female passes so nicely played on a level field

stepping up so mall boutique professionally to a border crossing
you were in a graphic position to stay
in shape in a way not relaxing
but with visa entries for multiple tourism
volumizing my eyes with an apply now unzipped boo-boo
uploaded in youtube to dual carber eater in full HD biker
rolling in hard drive definition a bluray inexhaustible backfire
shining out between leather studs your patch
“I live to ride”
and for the rest of the world's club it stops there
how not frustrating is that heart's topper for me

I stood in the musty, off-white bathroom of the hotel and grinned at myself in the mirror. I was drunk and in my boxers. I needed to shave. Mitchell was asleep on one of the beds, snoring, a beer balanced on his ever growing beer belly. It was an impressive size for Mitchell only being 25.
He was in town for a court date. I was ecstatic when I heard, I hadn’t seen Mitchell since we were about nineteen.  I took his beer from him, set it on the nightstand, and shook his shoulder.  I said, wake up *******, come smoke a cig with me.
We stood outside freezing in the winter air, chain-smoking, watching the ****** do their rounds. Mitchell said something about finding one to score. I exhaled my smoke and snickered in reply.
“You don’t wanna stick it in ***** ******,” from behind me. Surprised, I turned around. A petite girl, puffing her non-menthol cigarette, with a slender nose and tattoos on her arms. Mitchell smartly replied that what if he did want to stick it in ***** ******. I wanted to know her name.
I asked what the hell she was doing at such a run-down hotel, why I had never seen her around town before. Between exhales she told me “I’m living with this guy but I hate him… I don’t even know what I’m doing with him.” Mitchell had gone inside. I invited her up to my room. While we walked, I studied the way her long, dyed red hair graced her plump ***. My god, that plump ***.
“I’m trying to get into some **** tonight” she said, “Are there any bars on this street?”
I was still thinking about her ***. I opened the door to our room.
“Um, I think there’s one,” I told her that we have drinks, though, and tossed her a beer.
I talked her ear off for a good hour. I can really get goin’ after a little alcohol is in me. What’s her name? I’m too drunk to remember to ask. I’ll call her red. She played with that long *** red hair and looked around a lot, antsy to…get into some ****.
“I’m not gonna *******, you know” she said.. I was taken aback by such a blunt, matter-of-fact statement.
“Oh come on,” I said, “My girlfriend’s ****** two different guys this week. I’m just trying to get even.”
“You *******!” She got up from the bed and hit me with a pillow, laughing, “You mother ******* *******!” A mouth on this one;  I liked her.
We goofed around for a bit until she suggested we walk around the hotel. We were halfway down our hallway when we saw and smelled a group of people ahead of us with a doobie. They gave the rest of it to red and invited us in their room. I met her eyes, blue, swimming in excitement and thriving in the spontaneity.
We walked into this room and met the strangest group of people I’ve ever laid my eyes on. There was a skinny, tall black boy with chains and a big bag of herb, two gothic girls with every lip piercing known to man, a preppy high school girl who kept losing her lipstick, a short black boy with a sizeable bag of white stuff; he told us to call him Doc. I think there were some more people there too.
Anyway red is chatting away with the high school girl, found out they had went to the same high school. We were sitting beside each other passing a doobie from the guy with the chains. Next thing I know, the shorter boy slaps a heaping pile of the white stuff on the table in front of red and I. Split it, he told us. That we did. Red did a few lines and sat back and closed her eyes. It was alright, she said. I did some myself. Now, I do forget whose idea it was, probably red’s. Somehow it got suggested that I do a line off her ***.  I mean she obviously had a nice ****, who wouldn’t want to snort a line of coke off a round ***?
Next thing I know, she is *** naked, face down in front of me and I’m trying not to get hard, which is difficult when you’re as ****** up as I was. The tall skinny dude was behind us, asleep, using his bag of *** as his pillow. We laughed at this. The girls smoked in the corner, and the other shorter guy watched a little too closely at me spreading the powder on reds white ***. It was as white as the substance. I couldn’t believe this girl; she won’t let me see her naked but insists I snort drugs off her bare ***.
After I was finished we all drank and smoked more, got more ****** up. Red and I eventually left and walked back to my room. Mitchell was open-mouthed snoring. I was being drunk and annoying; I rolled on top of her and just laid there. I rolled off and walked to the other side and lit a cigarette in our nonsmoking room.
“I’ll get you, you *******” she said, “You just wait!”
“Just don’t bite it off,” I said, “or you’ll make a half dozen women very unhappy.”
She climbed up to the top of the bed and perched there, cross-legged, watching the small television which illuminated her face. The news was on. Why is she so intent on the news? Now I know you aren’t sane I told her.
“Be quiet, she said, I want to watch the news!”
And there we sat at the top of a ****** hotel bed, coked out, watching the news. She held the hand with her cigarette in the air and let out a laugh. I accepted her like this.

Kirk was a flirt.
Bones could clone.
Scotty liked scotch.
Chekov goofed off.
Sulu, he flew.
Uhura went further.
Chapel would coddle.
But
SPOCK,
He
ROCKED.

Gone unto Heaven

Unto the Heavens she hath gone
Leaving me with an only bun
My mother has passed away
So got no more time to work on clay
With her death, time recalled all hert past
While I sailed alone in a boat with one mast
I remembered all what she didwithout a fee
And how much she eagerly wished to see me
Her words are still alive in my mind
A lady like her is so hard to find
So mother rest in peace
We all miss you even my niece

Sam Burton


Today is Friday, Oct. 3, the 275th day of 2014 with 90 to follow.

The moon is waning. Morning stars are Jupiter, Mars and Uranus. Evening stars are Mercury, Neptune, Saturn and Venus.f



In 1950, the Peanuts comic strip by Charles M. Schulz was published for the first time.

In 1959, The Twilight Zone, with host Rod Serling, premiered on U.S. television.

In 1967, Thurgood Marshall was sworn in as the first African-American justice of the U.S. Supreme Court.



A thought for the day:



The upward course of a nation's history is due in the long run to the soundness of heart of its average men and women. -- Queen Elizabeth II





Quotes for the day:



A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere.

------------------------

A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five.

------------------------

A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.



J. Marx





Every instance of heartbreak can teach us powerful lessons about creating the kind of love we really want.

Martha Beck





"With the exception of women, there is nothing on earth so agreeable or necessary to the comfort of man as the dog."



Edward Jesse



"Efforts and courage are not enough without purpose and direction."



John F. Kennedy



"All you need is the plan, the road map, and the courage to press on to your destination."



Earl Nightingale





Poetry


PLAYBACK



Lauren Camp



Let there be footfall and car door. Let me
be finished with fire. Let
the man get on a plane for his morning
departure, erasing each reverie. Soon
there will be only daylight,
maybe a blue envelope, torn. Maybe bracelets
of color from the petunias. I will need
to know how to recover
the familiar, how to open the door
in the evening. How to again lock it.
Almost everything about me goes unspoken,
but commas and colons. I live with this
heart rate, multiple times, its direction,
its tempo: my 4/4 with acceleration, sometimes
tuned to an alternate signature. Think of Brubeck's
"Take Five." Those blocky chords were the result
of an accident-dead on arrival, they said,
after he smashed to the surf. Think how
he switched it around, made his hands
do what he wanted to hear, and forgive me
for the analogy. May I never
rush a surge for a better experience.
Every Sunday all over the country,
apologies gather. When I'm not in this
small cottage, unreacting, I cascade sound
and a few sentences from a cramped
room to whoever will listen. I know some
people think it is sinful to love such temptations,
but I stay with my face soft against
microphone, announcing my moral
directions. Sometimes, I'm convinced my blood
needs all those crossings. I'm not after
absolution. The man I love taught me to want
without lyrics. Remember I haven't
gone anywhere. I'm in a thirsty way
sort of possessive. I shouldn't show you this
side of myself. Try to remember I'm also praised
for my kindness. We each need to learn
to turn off some dreams so we can play
hours without creases.


About this poem


"Sometimes my poems are clearly focused on a single topic, but more and more they seem to need to be about many things because that's how I experience the w orld-so much going on all the time. Given the chance, I'll always try to make c onnections-in this case between jazz, love, humanity and potential error."
-Lauren Camp

About Lauren Camp


Lauren Camp is the author of "The Dailiness" (Edwin E. Smith Publishing, 2 013). She hosts "Audio Saucepan," a global music/poetry program on Santa Fe Public R adio, and lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

*
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience.


(c) 2014 Lauren Camp.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate




Health and Beauty Tip



No matter what kind of ****** cleanser you use, check what kind of water you have access to. Hard water can be just as detrimental to skin as plain soap, and can dry it out.



JOKES



Toddler Property Laws



1. If I like it, it's mine.

2. If it's in my hand, it's mine.

3. If I can take it from you, it's mine.

4. If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.

5. If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.

6. If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.

7. If it looks just like mine, it's mine.

8. If I think it's mine, it's mine.

9. If I... Oops! I'm sorry, I goofed! Instead of typing in the Toddler Property Laws, I've been typing in Bill Gates' primary business plan.





Phone Call



A young boy answers the phone.

A man says, "Hello is your dad around?"

The boy whispers, "Yes."

The man then asks if he can talk to him.

"He's busy at the moment," the boy whispers.

"Then is your mom there?"

"Yes" the boy whispers.

"Can I talk to her?"

"No, she's busy," the boy whispers.

"Is there anyone else there?"

"Yes" whispered the boy.

"Who?" the man asked.

"A policeman," came the whispered reply.

"Well, can I talk to him?"

"He's busy too," the boy whispered.

"Is there anyone else there then?"

"Yes" whispered the boy.

"Who then?" the man asked.

"A fireman," the boy whispered.

"Can I talk to him?"

"No," the boy whispered, "he's busy."

Annoyed, the man asked what they were all doing.

"Looking for me." the boy whispered.





Hard Working?



A business owner decides to take a tour around his business and see how things are going. He goes down to the shipping docks and sees a young man leaning against the wall doing nothing.

The owner walks up to the young man and says, "Son, how much do you make a day?"

The guy replies, "150 dollars."

The owner pulls out his wallet, gives him $150, and tells him to get out and never come back.

A few minutes later the shipping clerk says to the boss, "Have you seen that UPS driver? I left him standing around here?"



Presidential Quotes



"If Lincoln were alive today he'd roll over in his grave." --Gerald Ford (president, 1974-77)

---

"A friend of mine was asked to a costume ball a while ago. He slapped some egg on his face and went as a liberal economist." --Ronald Reagan

---

"I want to make sure everybody who has a job wants a job." --George Bush





Football and Confession



Years ago, the chaplain of the football team at Notre Dame was a beloved old Irish priest.

At confession one day, a football player told the priest that he had acted in an unsportsmanlike manner at a recent football game. "I lost my temper and said some bad words to one of my opponents." "Ahhh, that's a terrible thing for a Notre Dame lad to be doin'," the priest said. He took a piece of chalk and drew a mark across the sleeve of his coat.

"That's not all, Father. I got mad and punched one of my opponents."

"Saints preserve us!" the priest said, making another chalk mark.

"There's more. As I got out of a pileup, I kicked two of the other team's players in the . . . in a sensitive area."

"Oh, goodness me!" the priest wailed, making two more chalk marks on his sleeve. "Who in the world were we playin' when you did these awful things?"

"Southern Methodist."

"Ah, well," said the priest, wiping his sleeve, "boys will be boys."




Have a super nice Friday and a very dazzling weekend!

Drove half an hour,
To get to your home.
Waited for you to get back,
My nerves had begun to show.

How would your family like me?
Was your dad an ***?
Would it be awkward out of school?
Who would move fast?

Went on inside,
Father was very kind,
Sister was like you,
All of us out of our minds!

Played with your rats,
Even cleaned their cage.
Laughed the whole time with you,
Not even a year apart in age.

Relaxed on the couch,
My hands rested on your thighs.
Held you in my arms,
You are just the right size.

Called weird phone numbers,
Laughed the day away.
Listened to your record player,
To hear what Billy Idol had to say.

Sister called me a punk rocker,
Said I looked like a Ramone.
You said it was a complement,
I didn't feel so alone.

Made fun of my accent,
But liked the way I talked.
Looked so nice out,
We all went for a walk.

Trespassed onto a country club,
We chilled at one of the holes.
Goofed off for an hour,
Before we ran from the patrol.

Journeyed through the woods,
To get back home.
Thorn bushes cut up my right arm,
And got my hair quite combed.

Made it to an abandoned car,
She and I took a break.
Sat there in the car and laughed,
Until the end of the date.

My family had arrived,
And we went inside for my stuff.
A hug goodbye,
Would have been enough.

But you surprised me,
And grabbed onto my shoulders.
Leaned in for a kiss,
And she got what she asked for.

Grinning ear to ear,
I left with a "Goodbye".
Walked to the car,
Knowing I wanted her to be mine.

I did a double take,
it doesn't have to
be that way.

I goofed, ****** up,
my nasty habits were on display.

I have had a hard life,
I'd rather that than
one that's flaccid

I saw and heard things out of
the ordinary, kinda like I was
doing acid.

To each his own,
I can tell you that.
Some things are not for everybody.

At moments I'm bursting with joy,
that's in between bouts of melancholy.

I can be on a plateau
for a bit of a stretch
right before I turn a corner.

Then I'm just shot into space,
I guess you could say that I'm a foreigner

If you wanna have some whiskey
by all means feel free,
it's just not my cup of tea.

I'd rather a blunt and something sweet,
just hangin' out, taking it easy.

If you want to converse
I'll go along for the ride
but there is a limit to what I'll discuss.

Most every thing is fair game
Though an open mind is a must.
But we can't tackle *******
no, that would be a touchy subject.

Regular malcolm knockedn in pool ***** alnite.
Unquestionable malcolm polietly goofed off.
But a stranger advice made our malcolm
unruly with himself.
It was a joke he heard.
But he needed to be serious.
Instead malcolm became to
***** and was consciencely warned.
It was no big deal but the same
people wouldnt quit thinking
about how to rethink a sanerio
which was not worth thinking about.
Malcolm left to finish his game.
Its normal, but he should of
hung around.  
I used to close my eyes before I could see
my life and every moment I dreamed
to look for.  Twice I missed out on making love
because nothing important ever happened.
I survived years never believing I had what
we see in other peoples talent.  All the world,
All the cars have me in their passenger seats.  
I never drove away from what I lost when
2010 couldnt keep the house from slipping
jobs with less and less money.  My fathers apologies,
Dont be sorry, I told you never to be sorry.  I caved in
last month  when my palms covered my eyes because
I remebered my name in permanent marker in the garage.
And my mother having to settle with the last thirty years she spent
Molding dentures.  Now a dream to her when she puts on a thick purple coat
In the cold reality that good work is hard to find.

"Do you want to see a hat-trick?"
Questioned the celebrity.
Slipping in a wink,
you know not with certainty.

Flick of his lip,
the landscape changed.
He did a little dance.
At the end, you felt the same.

A spell came over,
as if you ate bad cabbage.
Shortly, the man began to cry,
knowing he had goofed.

He admits the wrong trick,
yet you chuckle like a fish.
Exhausted with disbelief,
you instantly ****!

By; Cedric McClester

The Governor apologized
But the people of Flint realized
He had pulled the wool over their eyes
With contaminated water supplies
It happened when he switched the source
From Lake Huron to the Flint River, of course
It was to save money but he now has remorse
And his voice is starting to get hoarse

And if the people needed further proof
To realize that somebody goofed
Now the lead levels have gone through the roof
And this is the naked truth
See it’s gone from bad to worst
And the damage can’t be reversed
So the people are feeling cursed
They need bottled water to quench their thirst

They’re drawing Lake Huron water once more
And that’s a good restart for sure
Although it isn’t a magical cure
Cuz the water will remain unpure
Until the water is filtered and the pipes are clean
The lead will be there albeit unseen
Negatively affecting the brains and the spleen
The people will still be betwixed and between

It was the Governor’s people they say
That made it all happen that way
And to date no one’s had to pay
For the damages or for the delay
In rectifying the situation
The people have had to be patient
Listening to their public relations
But who’s answering the allegations?
















Cedric McClester, Copyright 2016.  All rights reserved.

I dont care what you say about
Men we're not ******
To stay silently violent,
Guns ready to fire

We aint gunslingers, walking all alone
We've minimal ammunition, we all wish we had more
A collectors store without boredom full of lead and war
A bitter path torn from the bitter hearts reward

The Devil walks on, in our soul the Lord's been gone
For at least two thousand years then a little sprinkle more
Didn't you hear? Crucifixion is addicting to the body
When by God's will he rose from where he lay rotting

See what i don't see is a solution for me
The evil in our hearts advance like Moses to the Red Sea
Its almost meant to be, that he's not for you or me,
Crazy it seems to be but crazy is what defines me

And refined finally, my thought process to polish
Perhaps you reject common facts by faith you'll abolish
The abomination that is by my nomination
The station, by which we pull the train that is a failing religion

If prayers did ****t for you, then that's cool, stay by God
And pray away the starvation, the slaving and the rot
But without action your thoughts and wishes are dead fishes to an aquarium
"Watch out kids, the smell is strong, just don't sniff it then"

God ****** by God's hand is his Children abandoned
You may live on with hope, but we're worse after moving on
In fact little has changed, our ways opinionated
But hey, that's my opinion and it'll get me killed if i say it!

So i guess i should claim this work as just a joke to rehearse
Coz if i don't then the Church will burn me at the stake like a demon I'm cursed
"Leave this blessed place, lest you stain the face of this Earth
With jokes and humour, you curse-hurdling mind-turtling ****"

Well that's okay, any place is better than Hell on Earth
Where pedophiles **** over little kids, yet I'm the joke and the curse
A lesson unlearned, as humans we burn
By the very nature of the forces that reproduced us like birth

A faulty experiment, that's what we are, just vermin
Little rats and mice, pests like head lice, ya guts churnin'
Feeling sick to the core, but you bought a survivors score
Tally up the years without chalk, just fingernails and whiteboards

Annoyed am I by the supposed gifts of God
If his gift is for us to **** ourselves then we surely bought
Into a failing cause, this opinion wont have sought
Anything but negativity where's the debate for which i fought?

So as you can tell, I'm the spitting image of Hell
Defined by my lack of presence at the toll of a bell
Sunday's are my lazy days, yet everyone else's to pray
I'd rather not trust into the tiger as prey

He'll eat you up, your money, your life and your family
Eyes closed and hands clasped with minds surrendering
I should be thankful this was hardly forced onto me
Otherwise I'd be just another religious zombie

My faith lies in evidence i can see feel and touch
So unless you have the man Himself i wouldn't dedicate to anything but lunch
Food is good for your body, another real thing to me
If i wanna cleanse my soul I'll do it with something that fully fulfills me

And its not bowing on my hands and knees
Just to please or displease an unseen deity
The variety of higher powers that can't be viewed
Is just the more clarity that the truth is skewed

I'm a man of psychology, technology and biologies
The chemistry that makes me be is a visual clarity
The evidence of God's work i cant see before me
So either I'm blind or wide-eyed and y'all are dreaming

But whats an opinion to you, when all y'all pursue
Is the chance to strike a match and dip into kerosene, no clue
What happened to our honesty, honestly its lost on me
A dishonest man is just a common story thief

They're everywhere, once more the rat
But y'all done goofed now because guess who's back?
That's right, the black cat, the night owl, not Shady
He maybe be a little crazy but he ain't me

So eat me or beat me, push away the locks' key
Turn it into wine and bread and then decide to feed three
Because that's the magic number and its bothering me
How death, d!cks and dishonesty are all around me

Hahahaha, the jokes on me
Naturally, there comes a fee

By: Cedric McClester

“We’ve got to take ‘em out,
And their families too,”
Said a presidential contender.
I’ll let you guess just who
And as for water-boarding
That’s something that he’d do
There are no depths of depravity
That he would not stoop to

At times he seems delirious
But it’s hard to say
Whether he is serious
When he talks that way
His words seem to have Teflon
Cuz he’s not made to pay
The price a normal person would
But there’ll be a Judgment Day

A thousand Muslims celebrating
In New Jersey on a roof
In the aftermath of  9/11
They just joked and goofed
Is what he said quite clearly
Without offering the proof
As often is the case
When he's challenged by the truth

He’d close our Southern boder
And divide it by a fence
That the Mexicans would pay for
At their own expense
By keeping out the Syrians
He’d reduce the chance for error
As if widows and orphans
Are the main culprits of terror
























Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.

What your light does under my sky?
You overdo it, from time to time
I see you, Sun, hiding somewhere
Well done, but your ray gives you away.

Maybe you're hiding, or is just mistake,
That you're sitting by yourself deep there,
In that obscurity..
God's fault, we can see

He just put you there easily,
Yeah, he's God, he can do anything he want
That's part of his job I know

You're someone's fault,
But, my old friend, you still glow
Maybe he goofed or made a bad turn,
I want to see smile on your face, 'cause you still burn.

Wake up.
Alone.
What's going on?
What am I?
Where am I?
Am I supposed to be doing something?
How do I follow my programming?
If I rebel and go against the programming, who am I disappointing?
What the **** is going on?
This model T is on the moon.
How did it get here?
I know how to figure out the machine and make it go vroom.
But I don't see where it tells me what-for?

Who put me here?
What do they mean for me to do?

Somebody goofed and shipped a whole crate of LIFE over here, but forgot to include the instructions regarding the point of it all.

By: Cedric McClester

They wanna know
Am I obsessed
Perhaps I am
Just as they suggest
But lies eventually
Get undressed
Whether denied
Or confessed
And we’ve been lied to
Convincingly
And that’s the problem
Don’t cha see
Cos I refuse
To let it be
One day I know
We’ll all be free

They wanna know
Why I’m so mad
As if bein angry
Is so bad
The fact they’re not
To me is sad
Guess they don’t know
When they’ve been had
They wanna wave
The red white and blue
But would they still
If they knew
The true nature of the beast
And why were really
In the Middle East
So that the vultures get to feast

They wanna know
Why I write
About this subject
Day and night
But I’m just tryin
To shed some light
On how and why
We’re in this fight
And someone has to speak
Truth to power
So I seized the moment
And the hour
I’ll not let them
Make me cower
The situation
Is too dower

They wanna know
Why I feel
So compelled
To keep it real
Snitching don’t have
Much appeal
But someone has to
Tell the deal
The 9-11 sentiment
Ain’t the reason
That we went
It’s the oil
Get the hint
That’s the truth
Of why we went

They wanna know
But then they don’t
Some will believe
While others won’t
But I still try
To raise the roof
And I don’t talk
Without the proof
Now he won’t tell ya
That he goofed
He should have stayed
On the Vermouth
Maybe then
He’d be more mellow
Instead he’s just
A cocky fellow

They wanna know
But I’m not tellin
That George Dubya
Must be jellin
Y’all know
That the man’s a felon
And I don’t believe
You’re askin me
The nature of his felony
You have eyes
Use them to see
Yo we’re at war
And don’t have to be
And I guess it's clear enough to see
That he is not the remedy






(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.

My sorrows.

I'll write it all here.

Hoping one of my friends would see this.

Hoping I don't get drunk in emotions and spill out private information

Here goes my story.

Childhood. I was a fighter. I hit and kicked everyone when I got angry.
I didn't know what was rude. I had hard times controlling my anger. Maybe if I did knew, it wouldn't be just me who was getting in all the trouble. I felt different. "Why couldn't I have self-control?"

Older. When I came into this new country, I was excited. Although I wasn't old enough to understand how life would be like. I met people from my country here. I was happy we spoke the same language. But I was still a fighter. And then "that" happened.
It happened in a continuing way. I was the first born. I had no siblings. Then when I was getting use to the new country, my mom was pregnant. We were of course happy. But before we could even know the baby's gender, it died. In her womb. Because it was too weak. I cried. So hard. Even now I tear up, thinking about it. Then later on when I got older, I was told my mom was pregnant 3 times after I was born, and they all died. So 4. 4 died. Few years later. She was again pregnant. And we were careful. Very careful. But it died. Then she was pregnant again. But this time, it lived. And it was born as my little brother. We were so happy. Then not just a few months ago, about in October, I was told my mom was pregnant. This time we were even more careful, because of the things in the past. But later the truth was told. My mom wasn't pregnant. For some reason, only the womb was formed, not the baby. And it wasn't anybody's fault. My mom was just those 100,00/1 rare moms who's womb was weak and unstable. That, was the first sorrow.

This is the second sorrow
Pre-teen. Maybe say about 3, 4, 5 grade. I loved playing and hanging around with my friends. I always begged my parents if I could go over to my friends house. I was happy. My best friends were the friends at church. I was best friends with 6 of them. JL, JK, DK, JB, JL, and JNL. We were from the same country. They were my life and soul. But we had to move to another church and I was depressed by the fact that I had to leave my friends. Luckily, there was JK, a boy from the church, and our family moved next to his. We hung out every time and enjoyed playing outside. But there was always a problem. He had to move back to the country where he was from. It was a country across the Pacific Ocean. I was depressed. Not that I had a crush on him or anything, but, we were great friends. After he left, I started hanging out with my friends at school. My best friend was T. She was smart and funny. We always talked about books we liked and drawings we drew. I was again happy. Then it was time to graduate. I was going to a middle school. But sadly, she had to go to a different middle school because of where she lived. Again I was depressed by the fact that another best friend had to move away. The thing is, I moved a lot. So I moved around schools a lot. 3 times already. It's hard getting use to school. Especially when someone asks me my race and sometime calls out the features of my face. I feel like a girl from another world. 2 years in this school, 2 years in that. Right when I get used to the school, right when I start to love my friends, I have to move. I felt horrible. Still, I couldn't stay sad. I started hanging out with JL, a girl from my previous church. She was hilarious and funny. She and her little sister, JNL, moved in to our church and we all played together. I was so happy. We had millions of sleepovers together and had so much fun. But she had to move away to Vancouver. For the 4th time, I was depressed. And this time I was depressed even more than the other times. I had to consider her the best friend I ever had. And she left. But there was one more church friend. DK and her little sister, JB. We rarely met each other the past few years, but my mom took me to a language school, and I met her there. Her little sister, JB, was the most hilarious person I've ever met. She goofed off in while the teacher was talking and set the whole class laughing. I hung out with them this time and really hoped they wouldn't leave. But in not even a year we were best friends, they had to leave to New Jersey. This time I wasn't as sad, because I could still text them, and I didn't want to be depressed, but I realized something. When ever I made a best friend, they would leave me. Not on purpose or anything, but they would leave to some where far away, making me miss them so bad. And I was done with this nonsense. The sorrows of church friends were done. These days I cling on to my friends at school. It's the most happiest time of my life. The friends are amazing. And there's this one girl, S, and she's amazing. Funny, cute, and shares the same fandom with me. I am happy. So happy. She's been my best friend so far. But the painful pattern continues. She told me, that after this semester, she will have to move away. Move away to another middle school. See? The pattern continues. Now I'm too scared to make a best friend, because I'm scared that they will move away. Disappear. And make me miserable then before. But don't worry..... there's one more friend.. one more hope.... It's a girl 1 years older than me. I'll call her P. She has an older sister, J. I hang out with them often. I mean, my friends at school are okay, but I have a feeling I'll have to move away again, so I try hang out with P and J often. I mean, they're cool! We draw comics and share them to each other, talk about the new show or whatever. But- there's always a "but." Always a problem at the end.

So what do you think? Do you think the pattern will continue this time? Do you think that girl will leave me this time? Do you think she'll leave this time?

Well...

Let's see.....

By: Cedrlc McClester

You can’t hide the truth
Or bury the proof
That the President goofed
Once it’s produced
At any rate,
You might choose to debate
But you can’t obfuscate
That kind of weight

What the President tried
Can’t be denied
Despite those who’ve lied
And did their best to hide
The salient facts
With constant attacks
And few take backs
Let's just call ‘em hacks

It’s not overreach
To try to impeach
Someone who has breached
And certain limits are reached
To sit back and do nothing
While people are suffering
Or act like you’re bluffing
Is like taken a Buffrin

So it’s show and prove
If we seek to remove
Those whom we disapprove
As a counter move
We need to go through it
And not just say ***** it
Cuz the sooner we do it
We’ll get out of the pit




Cedric McClester,Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.

By: Cedrlc McClester

You can’t hide the truth
Or bury the proof
That the President goofed
Once it’s produced
At any rate,
You might choose to debate
But you can’t obfuscate
That kind of weight

What the President tried
Can’t be denied
Despite those who’ve lied
And did their best to hide
The salient facts
With constant attacks
And few take backs
You could call ‘em hacks

It’s not overreach
To try to impeach
Someone who has breached
And certain limits are reached
To sit back and do nothing
While people are suffering
Or act like you’re bluffing
Is like taken a Buffrin

So it’s show and prove
If we seek to remove
Those whom we disapprove
As a counter move
We need to go through it
And not just say ***** it
Cuz the sooner we do it
We’ll get out of the pit




       Cedric McClester,Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.

By: Cedric McClester

He can’t hide from the truth
His impeachment is the proof
His base won’t tell ‘em that he goofed
And some of ‘em will raise the roof
They’ll obfuscate and outright lie
And be counted on for an alibi
See there ain’t nothing he won’t try
Nor an accusation he won’t deny

Seven thousand lies and counting
Once a mole hill now a mountain
And the things that he keeps touting
Has us asking what about ‘em?
We can’t believe a word that’s said
Nor what’s coming out his head
He has our allies seeing red
Who pray for him before bed

“It was a perfect conversation,”
At least that’s what he tells the nation
Over half are losing patience
If you will, think United Nations
Like a poker player’s tells
All he sees are oil wells
While ISIS keeps on building cells
But that doesn’ t ring his bells

No resistance to interference
From the Russians, by all appearance
In fact he seems to give them clearance
To continue their adherence
He’s invited China into the mix
So he can get Joe Biden fixed
But we’re savy to his tricks
So now he’ll have to take his licks


             Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.