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"indicted" poems
Yesterday was a rotten one For Donald Trump. What a shame! In desperation Trump has jumped Out of the frying pan into the flame. His friend and former campaign manager, Paul Manafort, was convicted On eight felony counts, although More convictions had been predicted. Then his lawyer, Michael Cohen, Pleaded guilty on eight counts And implicated the president In a felony, as the tension mounts. Trump is an unindicted co- Conspirator in a federal crime, According to Cohen--something that many Have suspected all the time. Also, an early supporter in Congress, Hunter Duncan, was indicted For the misuse of campaign funds. Do all who touch Trump become blighted? Meanwhile, Omarosa says She has many more tapes to play. It almost seems as though the president's Teflon coating is wearing away. As Trump's Republican defenders In Congress flat out refuse to condemn Trump's actions, people wonder, "What does Putin have on THEM?" "I always hire the best people," Donald Trump would frequently boast. Stay away from Donald Trump Or you, too, are going to be toast. -by Bob B (8-22-18)
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
A Bad Day
I grew up in a home where words like "atheist" and "agnostic", if uttered, were shoved under rugs or place mats or quilt-work sentiments reading        "God Bless This Home" And so I too, would hide from those who hid from God. But then amongst the distaste and disregard of things less than God, I Became An Evangelist! Ah, yes! Because whose soul doesn't want to be saved by a thirteen year old with a clever Christian saying on his shirt that's a size too small? But not only that, no. I dragged my friends along with me. We were, in fact, a regular children's crusade. But I was a little bigot. I pushed away those who pushed away God, shocked at the thought that anyone could not believe in what now seems completely unbelievable. I even scorned the science teacher who had the audacity to introduce the evil of evolution. I was on fire. But then the Devil himself put Kurt Vonnegut on my lap. Yes, I accredit my loss of faith to a crazy science fiction writer. At least, he pushed the first domino. And my God, I was afraid. Afraid of feelings of distance Afraid of questions that never seemed to have an answer. Afraid I was losing myself. I struggled with the traditional questions, of course: Why would a benevolent God send good people to hell for not believing? Is he that insecure? If he is omnipotent, wouldn't he know what he was getting into when he created such sinful little ***** Why should we be indicted simply because we were born? How does He expect me to give Him my entire life? Fast forward about four years. I'm eating lunch with my oldest sister, a philosophy major, no less. She tells me how she experienced almost the exact same thing I did. And after an inward struggle of four years, finally I had the courage to admit my Agnosticism to myself. I simply did not know. How could I? But now I'm left to deal with my friends, and most of all my mother. I should not feel guilty for my beliefs, or lack thereof. I am an agnostic. I am a humanist. I am on fire.
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
All My Friends Are Christians: The Story of the Closeted Agnostic
I grew up in a home where words like "atheist" and "agnostic", if uttered, were shoved under rugs or place mats or quilt-work sentiments reading        "God Bless This Home" And so I too, would hide from those who hid from God. But then amongst the distaste and disregard of things less than God, I Became An Evangelist! Ah, yes! Because whose soul doesn't want to be saved by a thirteen year old with a clever Christian saying on his shirt that's a size too small? But not only that, no. I dragged my friends along with me. We were, in fact, a regular children's crusade. But I was a little bigot. I pushed away those who pushed away God, shocked at the thought that anyone could not believe in what now seems completely unbelievable. I even scorned the science teacher who had the audacity to introduce the evil of evolution. I was on fire. But then the Devil himself put Kurt Vonnegut on my lap. Yes, I accredit my loss of faith to a crazy science fiction writer. At least, he pushed the first domino. And my God, I was afraid. Afraid of feelings of distance Afraid of questions that never seemed to have an answer. Afraid I was losing myself. I struggled with the traditional questions, of course: Why would a benevolent God send good people to hell for not believing? Is he that insecure? If he is omnipotent, wouldn't he know what he was getting into when he created such sinful little ***** Why should we be indicted simply because we were born? How does He expect me to give Him my entire life? Fast forward about four years. I'm eating lunch with my oldest sister, a philosophy major, no less. She tells me how she experienced almost the exact same thing I did. And after an inward struggle of four years, finally I had the courage to admit my Agnosticism to myself. I simply did not know. How could I? But now I'm left to deal with my friends, and most of all my mother. I should not feel guilty for my beliefs, or lack thereof. I am an agnostic. I am a humanist. I am on fire.
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voices, mirror glance inward-outward -inward-outward-inanoutandinward in simultaneous disease-like passion-- divine like bacteria kneading and bleep -ing up to one to one against to one toward a unity, a collective evolutionary force begin -ning in a marshy wallow-- forward to a creature slithers rocks unsure if fish or finger-- beyond unto a sharp-claw carnivorous terror (the Divine Right of Kings) and slowly, in the wake of the destruction the shattered continental plate lifted like a carpet during renovation violence, the bacteria stayed away and under soiled-earth to slowly form toward the muddy saliva of a strangely-fit mouse-rat.... through the dissipating wake of molten mist, a sabertooth tiger yawns with a growled-tremor and an after-bath shake-- ends a trampled scrap under mammoth foot having indicted this panic in its desperate mammalian hunger-- this bacteria, kneading and bleeping, continues its one to one against to one as a meaty slab metabolized by opportunistic caveman feeding his cubs and his loves before courage became the theoretical pond -ering of Voltaire's and Descartes's and Camus's...
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
the mist toward the poem
Oh Henry What a star you are! You always loved to be at the center of attention Your accomplishments in diplomacy are well known You brokered the peace treaty between Israel and Egypt You effected detente with the Soviet Union You opened up the way for Nixon in China You negated the Communist threat in Chile You said it yourself "Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.” You have admitted that mistakes were "Quite possibly made" By administrations in which you served. You have questioned whether, 30 years after the event, "Courts are the Appropriate means by which determination is made". And Cambodia Henry? You were complicit In the illegal carpet bombing of neutral Cambodia Which sowed the seeds for the murderous Pol *** regime Pinochet was indicted for human rights violations Diplomacy is a ***** business You did what you thought needed to be done You remain cold and secretive Do you have any remorse or regret? The old Russian proverb is wrong Henry Time does not heal all wounds There is blood on your hands
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Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
Henry Kissinger
1. The Race Card: Whether it be in suggesting that anyone who doesn’t vote for him because he is black is probably a republican, or in blaming Bush administration racism on a slow response to Hurricane Katrina, Obama is quite comfortable playing the race card. 2. Anti-Indian: After the Obama campaign released a paper disparaging other candidates for their ties to the Indian-American community, the chairman of the bipartisan US India Political Action Committee, Sanjay Puri, stated that the Obama Campaign was “engaging in the worst kind of anti-Indian American stereotyping.” Of course, Obama denied any hand in the racist document put out by his campaign. 3. Corrupt Buddies: Tony Rezko, a long time friend and fund-raiser for Obama, was indicted last fall on federal charges that accuse him of demanding kickbacks from companies seeking state business. When asked about his friend, Obama said, “I’ve never done any favors for him.” This turned out to be a lie, as evidence turned up proving that Obama had written letters to city and state officials praising Rezko’s business practices. 4. Wal-Mart Ties: While bashing of Wal-Mart’s labor practices in public, Obama has been profiting from their business through the money his wife made as a member of the board of directors for a company that produces food for the mega-corporation. 5. Religious Ties: Is Obama a Muslim? Is he a Christian? Nobody is 100% sure, but it is true that Obama was raised in a Muslim family and at one time attended an Islamic school. He currently claims to be a convert to Christianity, but some are concerned about his Muslim upbringing. 6. Anti-Second Amendment: Obama is one of the most anti-Second Amendment legislators in the country. He supports a ban the sale or transfer of all forms of semi-automatic weapons. 7. Gas-guzzler: Obama might attack American automakers for not making enough environmental friendly automobiles, but when he goes home he drives a gas-guzzling V-8 hemi-powered Chrysler 300. 8. Obama Ringtones: The most annoying campaign tool ever. 9. Obama Girl: I take back what I said about the ringtones. This girl is far more annoying. 10. His Unelectable Name: Barack Hussein Obama, ’nuff said.
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
Why Obama Should Be Impeached
1. The Race Card: Whether it be in suggesting that anyone who doesn’t vote for him because he is black is probably a republican, or in blaming Bush administration racism on a slow response to Hurricane Katrina, Obama is quite comfortable playing the race card. 2. Anti-Indian: After the Obama campaign released a paper disparaging other candidates for their ties to the Indian-American community, the chairman of the bipartisan US India Political Action Committee, Sanjay Puri, stated that the Obama Campaign was “engaging in the worst kind of anti-Indian American stereotyping.” Of course, Obama denied any hand in the racist document put out by his campaign. 3. Corrupt Buddies: Tony Rezko, a long time friend and fund-raiser for Obama, was indicted last fall on federal charges that accuse him of demanding kickbacks from companies seeking state business. When asked about his friend, Obama said, “I’ve never done any favors for him.” This turned out to be a lie, as evidence turned up proving that Obama had written letters to city and state officials praising Rezko’s business practices. 4. Wal-Mart Ties: While bashing of Wal-Mart’s labor practices in public, Obama has been profiting from their business through the money his wife made as a member of the board of directors for a company that produces food for the mega-corporation. 5. Religious Ties: Is Obama a Muslim? Is he a Christian? Nobody is 100% sure, but it is true that Obama was raised in a Muslim family and at one time attended an Islamic school. He currently claims to be a convert to Christianity, but some are concerned about his Muslim upbringing. 6. Anti-Second Amendment: Obama is one of the most anti-Second Amendment legislators in the country. He supports a ban the sale or transfer of all forms of semi-automatic weapons. 7. Gas-guzzler: Obama might attack American automakers for not making enough environmental friendly automobiles, but when he goes home he drives a gas-guzzling V-8 hemi-powered Chrysler 300. 8. Obama Ringtones: The most annoying campaign tool ever. 9. Obama Girl: I take back what I said about the ringtones. This girl is far more annoying. 10. His Unelectable Name: Barack Hussein Obama, ’nuff said.
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"drain the swamp"!!   Paul Manafort Michael Cohen Michael Flynn George Papadopoulos Richard Gates And other Republicans-- ( Rep. Duncan Hunter and Rep. Chris Collins ) -note :  The first two lawmakers to endorse Trump for president convicted and/or indicted since he began his spring cleaning!! YAY!!!   Trump!
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
Trump did say he'd
The hardest part is forgiving you But i won't let myself turn bitter I'm not a vengeful heart That you lies can litter You took a piece of me Then twist and broke it Took my remaining sanctity Wrapped your hands to choke it And now I find myself Rubbing streams of hatred Sick that I once loved someone That made me so jaded But your win isn't the end And this pain will fade And the scars you gave Will turn to strength I've made So when you smile for me And the torment inflicted Know I've forgiven you For what's been indicted So next time you turn to vengefulness Remember my name Think of the girl Who beat your game
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Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 1:15 PM UTC
The Winner
Oh Gods on high, I’ve heard thy musings. As you are above, So am I below. But why am I below? And who hast placed thee on high Aside from my perceptive imagination? Your adorned fire illuminates all of element and void. The Mystery is laid bare before thine eyes While my dull and hard ember Barely reveals what is inches before me. Of what heinous crime have I been indicted To deserve such a life of ignorance? Reveal to me the exact pomegranate of which I ate And I will prove to you That I can master the Art of Evolution. Tear from me these vestments of corporeality. Free me from this prison of time and matter For I wish to join thy ranks Of illumined Consciousness, To see all there is and Beyond, To be all there is and Beyond. I am but a piece of mySelf, A fraction of my whole soul, The One Soul. My mind has been divided into countless fragments, Isolated perceptions seeking to be reconnected, Floundering so alone in the vacuum of infinity. And if you are truly above As I am below, Then you must share in my suffering And I am reassured That my pleas fall not on deaf ears But on open hearts and whetted appetites Eager for my ascension into utmost Awareness, My triumphant return Home. But if Thy Spirit is indifferent, If Thou hast turned Thy back toward me, Or if Thee truly do not exist, Then may there be a swift end To this ceaseless and pointless dance of atoms For I would rather have no experience Than to play games in the Grand Mistake of Creation. But this is the resentment of a frustrated child, One who feels abandoned. Make known to me Your power and presence And I will live a humble and devoted life Or You will lose another exiled child To the Annals of Hell. If I am the Devil, then the Devil I will remain And wage war eternal against Thy Throne. But if I am truly Thy Son, If I am truly Thee, Give me an unmistakable clue So I may wake from this nightmare I have built from earth, water, fire, and air. Oh Gods on high, Why have I done this to mySelf? Why have I caged my mind Only to seek what was already known? Why have I made this Labyrinth So nearly impossible to navigate? How might I lift the Veil from Isis’ face To gaze into mine own eyes So that All is known And All is at peace?
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Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
As Above, So Below
Oh Gods on high, I’ve heard thy musings. As you are above, So am I below. But why am I below? And who hast placed thee on high Aside from my perceptive imagination? Your adorned fire illuminates all of element and void. The Mystery is laid bare before thine eyes While my dull and hard ember Barely reveals what is inches before me. Of what heinous crime have I been indicted To deserve such a life of ignorance? Reveal to me the exact pomegranate of which I ate And I will prove to you That I can master the Art of Evolution. Tear from me these vestments of corporeality. Free me from this prison of time and matter For I wish to join thy ranks Of illumined Consciousness, To see all there is and Beyond, To be all there is and Beyond. I am but a piece of mySelf, A fraction of my whole soul, The One Soul. My mind has been divided into countless fragments, Isolated perceptions seeking to be reconnected, Floundering so alone in the vacuum of infinity. And if you are truly above As I am below, Then you must share in my suffering And I am reassured That my pleas fall not on deaf ears But on open hearts and whetted appetites Eager for my ascension into utmost Awareness, My triumphant return Home. But if Thy Spirit is indifferent, If Thou hast turned Thy back toward me, Or if Thee truly do not exist, Then may there be a swift end To this ceaseless and pointless dance of atoms For I would rather have no experience Than to play games in the Grand Mistake of Creation. But this is the resentment of a frustrated child, One who feels abandoned. Make known to me Your power and presence And I will live a humble and devoted life Or You will lose another exiled child To the Annals of Hell. If I am the Devil, then the Devil I will remain And wage war eternal against Thy Throne. But if I am truly Thy Son, If I am truly Thee, Give me an unmistakable clue So I may wake from this nightmare I have built from earth, water, fire, and air. Oh Gods on high, Why have I done this to mySelf? Why have I caged my mind Only to seek what was already known? Why have I made this Labyrinth So nearly impossible to navigate? How might I lift the Veil from Isis’ face To gaze into mine own eyes So that All is known And All is at peace?
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The president loves to carry on About his gut and how it guides him. How can anybody believe A word of all of his nonsense besides him? His gut encourages him to lie And do it while he keeps a straight face. It helps him create far-fetched stories To dupe and galvanize his base. His gut is great at seeking out The shiftiest autocrats around, So he can make America His autocratic proving ground. It's also very good at distracting The country from what is REALLY going on-- At how to attract his servile lackeys While he plays the role of the don. It helps him to be great at knowing How to pander to various groups Such as evangelicals Who kiss his you-know-what. Oops! His gut tells him that scientists Are full of baloney when they proclaim That global warming is a threat And humankind is largely to blame. His gut says illegal voting Is rampant. Doesn't he find it odd That experts have found no proof at all Of widespread voter fraud? His gut says he hires the best people. That makes him SO excited. But how many have left their jobs? How many have been indicted? His gut said that he could pay money To silence affairs and get away with it. Did his gut let him know Whether his wife would be okay with it? His gut tells him that as the leader He can do what he desires, Which must include collusion, obstruction Of justice, and calling dissenters liars. Yes, I agree: gut feeling Can be useful at times, BUT Why can't the president Start using reason and NOT his gut? -by Bob B (11-30-18)
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Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Gut Feeling
The president loves to carry on About his gut and how it guides him. How can anybody believe A word of all of his nonsense besides him? His gut encourages him to lie And do it while he keeps a straight face. It helps him create far-fetched stories To dupe and galvanize his base. His gut is great at seeking out The shiftiest autocrats around, So he can make America His autocratic proving ground. It's also very good at distracting The country from what is REALLY going on-- At how to attract his servile lackeys While he plays the role of the don. It helps him to be great at knowing How to pander to various groups Such as evangelicals Who kiss his you-know-what. Oops! His gut tells him that scientists Are full of baloney when they proclaim That global warming is a threat And humankind is largely to blame. His gut says illegal voting Is rampant. Doesn't he find it odd That experts have found no proof at all Of widespread voter fraud? His gut says he hires the best people. That makes him SO excited. But how many have left their jobs? How many have been indicted? His gut said that he could pay money To silence affairs and get away with it. Did his gut let him know Whether his wife would be okay with it? His gut tells him that as the leader He can do what he desires, Which must include collusion, obstruction Of justice, and calling dissenters liars. Yes, I agree: gut feeling Can be useful at times, BUT Why can't the president Start using reason and NOT his gut? -by Bob B (11-30-18)
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By: Cedric McClester It’s a witch hunt Donald Trump insists But listen closely And then dig this You don’t hunt witches Where none exists Despite the President’s anger And him balling his fist It’s a witch hunt You’ll hear him shout At various rallies But there is no doubt He runs the coven And they’re all about In his administration As well as out It’s a witch hunt, That Mueller probe But Trump lacks the patience Shown by a Job The investigation Stays on his frontal lobe And he appears naked Without a bathrobe It’s a witch hunt And Mueller’s caught witches He’s indicted dozens Of those sons-of-bitches The president needs to Be kicked in his breeches Because the emoluments Adds to his riches Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 6:48 AM UTC
IT'S A WITCH HUNT
Tonight I have decided That love should be indicted Because I am not the final "Z" But alas I am free. Yesterday I said good bye I'm deserving of a wise guy Because I am not a bourgeoise But alas I am free. Tomorrow I may just weep It's hard to feel incomplete Yes, I don't flow like the ocean sea But alas I am free Currently I am exultant For this is the resultant I am a bel esprit (But) Alas I am free
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Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Alas I am free
I kept saying “I’m just glad no one got hurt,” last night when I crushed a car driving a semi. Just about to sleep on the road by the sugar factory in my hometown when I heard a horn honking and people yelling at me. Before I heard aluminum bend at once. I recounted it to spectators after the fact-- IN MY DREAM-- it was this yelling, this honking inDICTED the victims in my mind. That road was endlessly wide. Their car could have moved enough to miss me;  they wanted to get hit. For the insurance, maybe. Who knows? IN MY DREAM people get right out of smashed cars. Below your driver’s side door giving silent, dis- approving glances within seconds of your palm- shielded face; After it had started to get dark I remember how my dad had our truck down filling up on the corner with scraps of steaming food. I noticed potatoes cut into halves and fourths piling in and flowing through the broken tailgate. I knew where that truck was going: back to the country. Where I was told to park my truck and RUN. in- stead of crash into the city. Then I saw the insurance adjuster, ask- ing him, “hey, how much will it cost.” “Some number that doesn’t surprise me.” I walked to the corner, past a car dealership which doubled as a firework stand in the summer when I was young and still does.
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Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:59 AM UTC
Hauling
Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be______". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware ******** audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand? Reload.
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Identity Theft
Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be______". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware ******** audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand? Reload.
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Where do I start with you. Thief. Taking all of my belongings. I remember when you first grabbed my attention. You still haven't given that back. Now I'm glued to the channel that is your perfection. As the series got intense you stole my focus. Almost like you knew what made me attentive. So relentless. After a while you snatched my spare time. Every free moment I had became dedicated to you. Where are you keeping it all? Thief. Where is my dedication. You took that from me and had a celebration. You pick pocketed my time. Every minute I should have had to myself definetly wasn't mines. You should be convicted or indicted. Because you took this poem. Im sure you can recite it. And when you do, ima stop and listen. So when you finally take my heart I hope you're ready for the consequences.
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Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 12:44 PM UTC
Thief
Silhouette of the past run round and round. His present state of mind. The last kiss. The last time she said goodbye. The final touching of hands, before the morning dawn arrived. He sung the song she never heard. when in silence, He embraced Rian in the corner. In abysmal thoughts he ponder. While droplets of the gloomy rain cover, his essence; the purest tears he shed for her. Amassed chaos in his psyche. Seeped to his fingers, to the pen. The paper dripping of wailing despair. His cursed existence he indicted. How his life is seems so unfair. Again, He closed his eyes. Reminisce what he lost inside. Things he will never get back. Things that will never come back. Realized that one thing he lack.      "blank"                                                                                                            .
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
Fill in the _______ (blank).
He goes to a place that is covered in pleases Dripping from his head is your face and just course jesture and teasing.. I couldn't be more of a meaning, what I'm saying he grieves over stuff that's indicted. Like watching **** my heart was torn i feel like that is my cigar to release what I have as I sit exploded and out of it.. But out of it I'm far from cause when I think of your love for me I would trade my life of pleases and pornographics For your Love cause that's extravagant Deliver me.
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Extravagant
We are divided, they say--but it isn’t true. The way I judge right v. wrong is no different from you. Let’s not confuse acts from a few with what most people think or what most people do. Most people wouldn’t strangle a helpless man. A psychopath did it because he knows, “I can.” Most people wouldn’t shoot unless in harm’s way. A cop pulls the trigger because he knows he won’t pay. It’s about how we don’t do what we must-- we don’t hold accountable those we entrust with a badge and a gun. They **** with impunity. To end this we must act with unity: Some must be indicted and go to prison, or we’ll have more deaths for no good reason.
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Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
No Justice Leads to Vigilantism
Little Po’ Beep was fast asleep When poverty came and found her; She never quite saw The Republican laws Crash all her hopes around her. The Beep's favorite daughter Felt that she oughta Be able to salvage a bit Of the life she had Before things went mad And went reeling to hell from the hit. Little Po’ Beep felt the cost was too steep For taking a nap when she’s tired. She truly believed At least a few of the thieves Needed to be indicted and fired. She would gladly affect A wring of the neck Of the jerks in Washington who ground her Like so much cheap meat Starving dogs wouldn’t eat No help from the dumb peers around her. Little Po’ Beep wished she could learn Some way she could turn The slick words from Congress against them. She’d take all their assets And kick them where they sat Then show them some tar and some feathers. She’d set up a rail Outside of the jail And ride them from town in bad weather.
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC
A RHYME ABOUT A CRIME
Color blind to deception Color blind to destruction Seen is the fires Seen is the desires Bent on amends Bent on revenge Indicted by our mind Indicted by our kind Protest in the street Protest in the heat Tears streams down Tears streams abound Violence is unjust Violence is not a must Hearts must mend Hearts must not bend Stronger we must pray Stronger we must stay
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Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Indicted
Can you believe it, indicted again, By a bunch of pure zealots, callous grey men, Political hacks given the task, To take down the Don and in the limelight then bask. Find any cause, invent a good ruse, Just make it stick, all tricks good to use. But boxes of stuff, how low can they get, Papers with socks stacked in the shower, some wet, All safely collected in my place at the beach, Easy to find, easy to reach. Just mere mementos of my time as the Boss, Not something I’d part with or wantonly toss. Now they accuse me under some act, With great media fanfare like milk to a cat, Gloating, backslapping each other in turn, Pouring on fuel, hoping I burn. Little sick people don't they recall They tried this before and I embarrassed them all. To be top of news is clearly my ace, Providing the fame and my favorite space, For me to then weave my own brand of spin And just like last time, that got me straight in. But if this turn they're sure I've been finally licked, They won't even feel how hard they've been kicked.
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Jun 16, 2023
Jun 16, 2023 at 11:23 AM UTC
Now it’s my boxes? In Trumps own words
Little Po’ Beep was fast asleep When poverty came and found her; She never quite saw The Republican laws Crash all her hopes around her. The Beep's favorite daughter Felt that she oughta Be able to salvage a bit Of the life she had Before things went mad And went reeling to hell from the hit. Little Po’ Beep felt the cost was too steep For taking a nap when she’s tired. She truly believed At least a few of the thieves Needed to be indicted and fired. She would gladly affect A wring of the neck Of the jerks in Washington who ground her Like so much cheap meat Starving dogs wouldn’t eat No help from the dumb peers around her. Little Po’ Beep wished she could learn Some way she could turn The slick words from Congress against them. She’d take all their assets And kick them where they sat Then show them some tar and some feathers. She’d set up a rail Outside of the jail And ride them from town in bad weather.
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
LITTLE PO' BEEP
The devil is sitting at a table make sure to provide top service, and if you are somehow able, hide that his aggression makes you nervous. When the White House is just a smidge too white, it might be time for us Canucks to pull a 1814. How can someone do absolutely nothing right? and think what will be a nightmare will help revive an American dream? The devil is sitting at the desk, and he’s got yes men to shine and kiss his shoes. It was finally time for him to fail a test but his misguided cultists refused to let him lose. When the White House is just a smidge too white, even if the occupant is known to be orange. He’s shutting the gates just too tight, rushing Capitol instead of tearing his door hinge. The devil is sitting at a table he’s got the finest cutlery set, and the legs of it aren’t stable with each wobble he places his next bet. When the White House is just a smidge too white, I think it needs to be stripped and gain a new coat. Why is a symbol of oppression dressed up so bright, when it’s walls protect one and strangle every other throat? He “did everything right” and they indicted him; and now we fight eachother when we should be fighting him. These people have forgot how the world turns, infact they believe it’s stationery and around them. So they anticipate heat when they make the world burn, and await a rose after they rooted and snapped each stem. Isn’t it absolutely insane how the free can unknowingly live in a prison? Didn’t anyone tell you even a Hurricane can’t cleanse American Capitalism?
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Apr 8, 2025
Apr 8, 2025 at 11:07 AM UTC
Penniless & Pettiness
The devil is sitting at a table make sure to provide top service, and if you are somehow able, hide that his aggression makes you nervous. When the White House is just a smidge too white, it might be time for us Canucks to pull a 1814. How can someone do absolutely nothing right? and think what will be a nightmare will help revive an American dream? The devil is sitting at the desk, and he’s got yes men to shine and kiss his shoes. It was finally time for him to fail a test but his misguided cultists refused to let him lose. When the White House is just a smidge too white, even if the occupant is known to be orange. He’s shutting the gates just too tight, rushing Capitol instead of tearing his door hinge. The devil is sitting at a table he’s got the finest cutlery set, and the legs of it aren’t stable with each wobble he places his next bet. When the White House is just a smidge too white, I think it needs to be stripped and gain a new coat. Why is a symbol of oppression dressed up so bright, when it’s walls protect one and strangle every other throat? He “did everything right” and they indicted him; and now we fight eachother when we should be fighting him. These people have forgot how the world turns, infact they believe it’s stationery and around them. So they anticipate heat when they make the world burn, and await a rose after they rooted and snapped each stem. Isn’t it absolutely insane how the free can unknowingly live in a prison? Didn’t anyone tell you even a Hurricane can’t cleanse American Capitalism?
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By: Cedric McClester Though the evidence was none to slim They still went ahead and indicted him Double ****** his charge read Death to him the jury said Although the charges made no sense He failed to mount a good defense He might have died no one denied On the evidence that they tried Thirty years on death row And then they let him go The time passed by so slow There was no evidence to show That even though he did the time He was involved in the crime Let’s call it justice or a sign Of how slow sometimes the wheels can grind An innocent man might have died On the evidence that they tried Which is what they often forget When they become an advocate For metering out state inflicted death Like no other alternative is left Even though some are guilt free Of their charges don’t cha see Thirty years on death row And then they let him go The time passed by so slow There was no evidence to show That even though he did the time His involvement in the crime Let’s call it justice or a sign Of how slow the wheels can grind See he read in God We Trust Before his life got turned to dust He was cuffed and taken away Straight to death row for a stay That lasted for all of thirty years Which confirmed all his fears Justice delayed is justice denied He thought about it while he was inside And not for nothing nobody cared That the forensics just wasn’t there They refused to review the evidence That might have proved his innocence So he had to be patient and keep his cool Until he could get the Supreme Court to rule Thirty years on death row And then they let him go The time passed by so slow There was no evidence to show That even though he did the time His involvement in the crime Let’s call it justice or a sign Of how slow the wheels can grind Justice delayed is justice denied He thought about it while he was inside And not for nothing nobody cared That the forensics just wasn’t there They refused to review the evidence That might have proved his innocence So he had to be patient and keep his cool Until he could get the Supreme Court to rule (c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
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Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
THIRTY YEARS ON DEATH ROW
By: Cedric McClester Though the evidence was none to slim They still went ahead and indicted him Double ****** his charge read Death to him the jury said Although the charges made no sense He failed to mount a good defense He might have died no one denied On the evidence that they tried Thirty years on death row And then they let him go The time passed by so slow There was no evidence to show That even though he did the time He was involved in the crime Let’s call it justice or a sign Of how slow sometimes the wheels can grind An innocent man might have died On the evidence that they tried Which is what they often forget When they become an advocate For metering out state inflicted death Like no other alternative is left Even though some are guilt free Of their charges don’t cha see Thirty years on death row And then they let him go The time passed by so slow There was no evidence to show That even though he did the time His involvement in the crime Let’s call it justice or a sign Of how slow the wheels can grind See he read in God We Trust Before his life got turned to dust He was cuffed and taken away Straight to death row for a stay That lasted for all of thirty years Which confirmed all his fears Justice delayed is justice denied He thought about it while he was inside And not for nothing nobody cared That the forensics just wasn’t there They refused to review the evidence That might have proved his innocence So he had to be patient and keep his cool Until he could get the Supreme Court to rule Thirty years on death row And then they let him go The time passed by so slow There was no evidence to show That even though he did the time His involvement in the crime Let’s call it justice or a sign Of how slow the wheels can grind Justice delayed is justice denied He thought about it while he was inside And not for nothing nobody cared That the forensics just wasn’t there They refused to review the evidence That might have proved his innocence So he had to be patient and keep his cool Until he could get the Supreme Court to rule (c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
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