"grievances" poems
the lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
better.
however, things change overnight--
instead of listening to Shostakovich and
Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke
the nights change, new
complexities:
we drive to Baskin-Robbins,
31 flavors:
Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry
Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...
we park outside and look at icecream
people
a very healthy and satisfied people,
nary a potential suicide in sight
(they probably even vote)
and I tell her
"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they
find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"
"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in
and stand with the icecream people.
none of them are cursing or threatening
the clerks.
there seem to be no hangovers or
grievances.
I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave
that flows about. I feel like a ***** in a
beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and
sit in the car and eat them.
I must admit they are quite good. a curious new
world. (all my friends tell me I am looking
better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you
were going to die there for a while...")
--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the
hospitals...
and later that night
there is use for the pecker, use for
love, and it is glorious,
long and true,
and afterwards we speak of easy things;
our heads by the open window with the moonlight
looking through, we sleep in each other's
arms.
the icecream people make me feel good,
inside and out.
195.8k
Zindagi ne, is kaddar, kiya hai, bas vaar
Bina koi, churee, ya koi, talwaar
Ghaayal; dil ye hua, baar, baar
Zindagi ne, di, chotain hazaar
Gaye thay, hum, is tarah se, bikhar
jooda na, paye thay phirse ye jigar
khaamoshi se, milta tha, bas, karaar
tanhayeeon se , karte thay, iqraar
Jhanke, hum jab, dil ke, jo andar
Sach nikala, gehrayion se, baahar
Shikayat hai, ab na, koi takraar
karne lage hai, hum, khudse jo pyaar!
Translation in English
Self Love
Life has waged on me many a war
Without even a sword or a dagger so far
The heart was wounded time and again
Life hurt and caused me so much pain
My life was but thrown helter skelter
I could not piece my heart together
Silence was but my solace
Solitude was my only grace
When I dug deep within me
The truth I could clearly see
I have no grievances or complaints now
Having realized the importance of self-love
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
An ocean splashed the sky;
clouds little boats for angels to
reel in stars upon will; their gills
glow for human eyes to scope-out
and connect the dots, one by one.
The moon a forest for the alien
gophers; burrowing amongst its
craters, feasting on passing comets,
and yet; we fail to see.
A rainbow, for the giants after their
grievances, sprout a smile on
mile-long faces, as the days got harder
to stay sunny.
Drear for the shadows, the little
rats of the night, hissing at morn
and hurting, shrinking as
golden lasers black-
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 11:35 AM UTC
Missing blissful memories,
Cherished thoughts.
Memories in webs,
Tangled knots.
Binding grievances
Pave the way.
Unfettered thoughts
Have their own say.
Moments felt,
Moments understood.
Times are past,
Graveness its hood.
Calm seas rejoice
In silence.
Storms are but
Reasons to penance.
Regret hopes to
Unbind the will.
Will’s infant cry
To escape.
Bewilderment stares
With mouth agape.
Confusions unfold
In graves.
Souls depart
To hellish caves.
Brevity speaks
A thousand words.
Wilderness stands
On a million swords.
Confused and petrified.
Thoughts again
To guide.
A vicious circle
So unholy.
One committed
To every folly.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
The lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
better.
however, things change overnight--
instead of listening to Shostakovich and
Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke
the nights change, new
complexities:
we drive to Baskin-Robbins,
31 flavors:
Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry
Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...
we park outside and look at icecream
people
a very healthy and satisfied people,
nary a potential suicide in sight
(they probably even vote)
and I tell her
"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they
find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"
"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in
and stand with the icecream people.
none of them are cursing or threatening
the clerks.
there seem to be no hangovers or
grievances.
I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave
that flows about. I feel like a ***** in a
beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and
sit in the car and eat them.
I must admit they are quite good. a curious new
world. (all my friends tell me I am looking
better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you
were going to die there for a while...")
--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the
hospitals...
and later that night
there is use for the pecker, use for
love, and it is glorious,
long and true,
and afterwards we speak of easy things;
our heads by the open window with the moonlight
looking through, we sleep in each other's
arms.
the icecream people make me feel good,
inside and out.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 5:31 PM UTC
There’s an assembly in the making
and the suits are all shuffling in for the big event
making way to their front row seats
****** in nose
hanky in hand
and all colorfully draped
in those cuffed pin stripes
and Jerry Garcia ties
*now what would the Grateful Dead
or any of their fine entourage
have to say about this foul routine?*
Apropos of that
they’re talking in the 3rd person
with tight syllables
and wavy hands
and all taking a run
at the state of the union
there’s Valentino
and Freddie
and good old Sal
"look....their fiddling with their nuts!"
cries a layman from the balcony seats
the Yin and the Yang
have got even the most liberal minded
scratching their heads
as questions fly in from the field:
*don’t you know the way it used to be?
have you no morals?
which way to the exit!?*
These front row fanatics
have surely been scrimmaging
in the corn fields
all down in that classic 3 point
watching their weight
with sample selections from the
Spicy House and Yaas Bazaar
as members of the congregation look on with envy
*pass the aperitif...the big ***** lady is on deck!*
Union heads are running rogue
loading up on grievances
and lines
passing files at a make shift pew
jumping the bunkers
and stepping on clams
while the orderlies move in
for governance
It’s a bewildered state
and only for the mind of the rigorous
Jimmy D would say:
“it’s nothing you pussy...to the victor goes the spoils!
everyone has a bit of good you know...
you just have to find it!"
Unrest is growing in the ranks
and the masses are unstable
Time to hammer down
with a formidable brace
and two tick play
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
24 hour sign posted outside of the over night pharmacy in a town
where it seems to be night the majority of the time
he sits in his room and counts the cars that hiss by his window
anxiety starts at his feet,
and numbs them as it makes its way up to his neck
and strangles him in the high of another attack
his mind is a galaxy of concoctions
his pain meds, cough syrup, happy pills
swirl around with the blood on the white marble sink
until it creates an unsaturated rainbow of a man's grievances
the 24 hour pharmacy is open
to satisfy your 2 a.m. needs of a fix
when you suddenly decide you can't continue
the 3 a.m. decision to end it all
the 3:30 a.m. promise that maybe if you just get some sleep,
it will go away in the morning
the 4 a.m. insomnia that leads to bloodshot eyes at 5
and the overdose pharmacy will still be there
as you struggle to breathe;
drowning in the ocean you've created
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
I recently got reminded... Oh how I am caught
In a delicate web of disillusions
Make me see what is actually not
Make invisible my heart's secret questions
Been successful in putting aside all grief
But truth has it's way to make you pay
You can bury all grievances; you can mask all disbelief
But it'll all catch up; these things you've kept at bay
Make your silly compromises
To have the the best you just make allowances
Keep up your futile pretences
Accommodate your selfish preferences
Day had dawned where each question need their answer
Questions I've shrugged and left unaddressed
Indistinguishable when fact and fiction begin to blur
When dreams and reality have coalesced
Tonight I lay with the load I bring
Body asleep with my heart fully awake
Blessing or curse, this rude awakening
Decisions and choices left for the following suns to make
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
coloring inside the lines is impossibly bleak,
with a hissing noise
atomic locomotive
rounds the bend,
extrasensory perception is not
a mindless gift,
it's a train station in the clouds,
tracking all my starting points to you,
nothing in the middle,
nothing at the end.
you leave in opera
with secrets and grievances
under the radar,
and your ready-made
wings catch in the power lines,
you're coiling like smoke
in the arches of my cathedral,
a sense of elegant decay
while sweeping up the debris,
committing arson
with the paraffin of my temporal lobe.
yesterday's fairground waltzes,
ghosted lullabies,
and woodland hymnals,
set in a context not of
resolution and closure,
but of contradiction and assimilation,
break the bond,
away they float on purveyor belts,
one too many molecules,
one too many departures,
always on the surface of everything,
nothing in the middle,
nothing at the end.
Feb 16, 2023
Feb 16, 2023 at 7:27 AM UTC
A funeral is my mind.
Where former lovers
and silver-tongued liars
attend their wake.
I spare no life when I can take.
An invitation from God
is what you’d need to depart.
But there is no God to be found here,
only your grievances and faults.
Stand steadfast and ready,
my reviled lovers and liars.
You’re in my dark abyss now
and you’ve taken your final bow.
Your procession has arrived.
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 10:38 AM UTC
Only if you knew…
How it bleeds inside
The baby born of blood and flesh
Just a hideous beast ruined by time.
Single dame- thousand names
Only if you knew,
How the ice burns my throat
How the wills and wants went cold…
Only if I knew,
What the skies hold for me
I didn’t touch the blade,
But the stains don’t fade away..
Why the contrition of yesterday
Still ****** my soul’s edges
Why the sweet reminiscences,
Still a gloomy haze?
Why the memoirs of divinity
Have turned in immoral disgrace?
Why the reaper can’t sing in its solace?
Thee heart keep running but lost in its pace
Why each passing moment moans for the albatross?
Only if we knew…
The curiosities of life
And anxieties open and wide
Don’t stop the eyes
Now open and searching life
Taking my chances,
Hiding my grievances
I risk the curve
Once was jilted and deserted from love
I bask in the glow, soak in the sun
Step out of the low
The Satan takes no pity
Leaves the beast with an impaired heart
Now the eyes are shut, the dark creeps in
The clouds come and lo! they win
The stars now astray in a veiled sky
Feeble and faint
Again leave the beast forsaken
But animal instincts they call it
It strives again..
Only if you knew…
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
oh the unholy chores of my withered lord
of my remorseless discord
must stop the hordes as though an indian from the cupboard
smothered
in the rugged stubbornness of my hellacious mischief and deviance
sounding out the ingredients of my grievances and disobedience
patient expediance.
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
My eyes see nothing but tears
Tears of a million suffering souls
Souls that are swimming in the pool of poverty
Poverty created by a few egocentric individuals
My ears hear nothing but the tone of grievances
Grievances blossoming from excessive suffering
Suffering because of the alarming levels of idleness
Idleness because the lot is controlled by a few
My nose smells nothing but pungent poverty
A poverty that has become a national disaster
A disaster which has become a national emblem
An emblem that the world identifies us with
My mouth has become a floodgate of lamentations
Lamentations that blossoms from excessive pain
Pain which has become an inseparable part of everyone
Everyone has lost hope of seeing a brighter day
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 7:04 AM UTC
Once, I was excluded from love,
in bitterness I cursed all that I saw,
not knowing that this bitterness made me anathema
to the very sensations I pursued.
I spread hateful ideology,
made every effort to share my misery,
shouted condemnation at every pair of clasped hands,
every kiss I saw made me retch.
The bitterness welled up
and poured forth from me,
reppelling loves valiant attempts
at liberating me from my tower cell.
From my relatively pleasant existance
I fashioned my own tailor fitted hell,
which I wore everyday, steadily collecting filth,
so soiled I had become.
As I lifted the last shovelful from my early grave,
and prepared to climb down within
with my list of grievances against God
stapled to my shirt, so I might never forget,
my foot stepped out into the pit
but a gentle hand clenched my shoulder
and pulled me back from the hole,
and I turned and discovered love...
It does exist,
none need be excluded, if the feeling exists for some
all can be included.
Love not for the pleasure of it,
but for the pain, and strain,
so that we may constantly measure it against the ache of loneliness
and remind ourselves, that while love may be a neverending battle,
surrender to hate brings nothing but ruin.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
When I hear a crow chirp I am reminded of death and his grievances. When I hear a robins sing their morning tune I am reminded death isn't permanent because robins sing in the journey to pleasant immortality.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
With Body pretzled up, skins converged to form
branches of rivers, mouth slack and frozen to
a permanent scowl of delirium and manners-gone,
as many swears dripped from those dry, cracked lips.
One of my mothers – gumshoed from the alley’s way of family.
“Get gumption, girlie, because everybody is full of ****
I remember that lullaby, “A tiny turned-up nose, two lips just like a rose. She sits upon my knee, she means to the world to me.”
I spy the scar on my pinky finger from her cigarette.
Could the King be witness in the Room?
Were those buttons of hollow wood over her eyelids?
Wrung of cries – we didn’t see that coming,
though we heard the flies.
And Age’s stumbling rattle through the hallway.
Do you know who I am?
Do you remember me?
Should the window washer come another day?
This stubborn sovereignty over what is reality – the root beneath the porch, the fog on the windshield.
Loosen the grip on this natural plane,
Please --
Woman of my Childhood, harvester of my manners.
Stand until the grown-ups sit.
Look away and bow your neck.
This was called the boxing match between Industry verses Inferiority.
Not child through birth – no –
but life spawned by those
strung-high fists.
There’s finality in this phone-call.
I heard it happened an hour ago.
Treading grievances and grimaces, picking through a flowerbed only to stroke the weeds.
Lifting boxes of Lead from reality to the Bridge of Dreams.
Frankly, I stole the gumption from your knotted mouth and
still cannot cry.
In a splinter of reason – I cast out the fundamental jibes of sacred hope.
That promise held between dog and owner during business hours.
Except there can be no homecoming.
The sickest liquor on the alleyway fence.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
I like to listen to people complain
about the things which
for some reason they take seriously
I like to make snide sarcastic remarks
which makes their problems seem
futile
just ******** and moaning
I find it amusing
I'm an ******* though.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
My human body
stings of age
ache and pain
My human bone
breaks
My human strength
decays
My human form
twists, deforms
courts mirrors
My anxious nerves
burn
My fragile heart
stops
Make my limb
Make my life long
Take my parts
Make me evolve
make my limb
make my life long
make my heart
beat, eternal
I long for painlessness
Bless this beautiful ship I control,
but I would trade the ephemeral
flesh, bone, blood and marrow
to the first back alley broker
of cheap plastics I meet
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste.
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancelled woe,
And moan th’ expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
2.5k
Autumn flares out, its flame burst clouds
strewn about misted cliff sides, loam whites
of winter taking their place. A stiff willow breeze,
ten thousand things withdrawn to burrows and immortal
pine heights. First snows stream down, duckweed carpets
of August fade, jade peeking through white. I embark
on the seasons final sail in hardening ice waters.
Til spring my sails will be folded, my raft in idleness.
~~~
Rafting on moon drenched river, avoiding cascades and crash of
rapids and falls. Silvered driftwood a warning. Silent glide of
mulberry oar through dark azure, another crafts sail in silhouette.
From the deck a black spectre dives below, stillness follows
splash, re-emergence, beak wrapped around a dazzling rainbow.
From my raft dangling lantern sways, trout swiping at
gathered moths – scatter and return, some from a far off realm.
Some trout in the net, others not. Luck or the way – who can tell?
~~~
Dusk colour gorge sheathed in
emerald blankets, rising into sheer
cliffs of auburn cinnabar, all
underpinned by the fathomless
flow of azure clarity. Snowy Egrets
nest in pine top heights clear of dust.
On white sand shores gibbons howl
towards squawking beach gulls, squabble
over landlocked trout – debate without end.
Peach blossom petals swirl on spring breeze
over carpets of jade inter cut by king
fisher blue zipping over duckweed. Oriole
song weaves in and out of mulberry branches.
In these vast and vague waters -
coves, creeks and streams all one,
a river dragon lives an undetermined
existence. Mud stirs below, merely a
catfish airing grievances.
Red tail flares in dirt,
my mulberry oar rows me back home.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 8:13 AM UTC
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
To weather any storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Of defense
With liberty
And justice
Our common tranquility
And general welfare
A union
With resources to share
American rights
And protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking my mind
And yours
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Never being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Or forced to testify
To contradict our own denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
Brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
An enumeration
Merely provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Reveals more freedom
That is self-evident
No list or count
Exists to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is not permissible
A living breathing document?
Or static words unbending?
Even as we amend
Change never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
But others may disagree
There may be a fight
The spirit of intent
Is there to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Don’t call it a protest
When clearly it’s anybody’s guess
From what I see it’s the anatomy
Of how things can digress
Don’t call it a protest
If it’s an urban insurrection
Although I feel at best
It's a blow to the mid-section
Don’t call it a protest
Or the perpetrators simply thugs
After years of daily oppression
Knowing what oppression does
Don’t call it a protest
Call it anything other than that
When you see the anger boiling over
Because they’ve taken it to the mat
Don’t call it a protest
Or believe the media’s spin
When grievances aren’t addressed
It’s no telling where it will end
Don’t call it a protest
Or even try to dignify
The looting and the burning
Without answering the question why
Don’t call it a protest
Or mention First Amendment rights
When the majority of the people
Have to spend sleepless nights
Don’t call it a protest
Or look for a convenient excuse
For how they expressed their frustration
Through criminal acts of abuse
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
/ what is, exactly,
the concept of fame,
within the confines...
sorry... asylum... of
the species of SUPER-POWERED
JACKED-UP chimps?
merely fungus elevation
with steroids to boot?
anti-german to the point
of anti-deutschesprechen?
my english neighbour
is this close ( )
in teaching me
the arithmetic of my right hand...
i can't get over it...
he can't look me in
the eyes,
but has to bypass talking to
me, ******** over my mother?
a fifty year old
can't look me in the face,
and has to talk down to my
mother?
sorry...
is this an englishman?!
a grown man, can't face me,
eye to eye and tell me
his grievances?!
he has to bypass
honour, dignity, courage,
using a woman?!
******* ****
thankfully the blank
pixel space is where i vent
out my anger,
rather than, unlike the stereotype
of a caveman dragging
a woman by her hair...
me? middle and ring finger...
dipped into the mouth...
and then dragged...
never mind biting along
the way...
but i'd drag the **** of a "man"
with those fingers lodged in
its mouth...
to the nearest whipping
point...
and scold him...
until a leather belt would feel
like pouring boiling water
onto his buttocks!
- this is not an englishman...
this is...
a ******* cookie,
a Y.A.
"protagonist".
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
It really doesn't matter if you love a human or an animal
If only that love is sincere
And love can be expressed
In many different forms
Like patiently waiting for mommy to come back from work...
like listening to all her grievances even if you don't
Understand a thing...
Even if it means
One day you have
to say good bye...
Love is queer in many ways
In happiness comes sadness...
In pain is sweetness...
Bitter and sweet
Part and parcel of life
And letting go
Is inner peace...
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC