"jive" poems
Whispered body types
replayed melted melodies
Do you feel the jive above your head?
Stick, stick our toes
Where was that porcelain face in that cup, so bitter?
Trick them with polished giggles,
I know you.
Little, Insignificant, give me your
bones to crush and huff.
Forgive me. Not.
Candid rush of paint
retake, retake, retake.
That girl should have been a
reindeer, she's road ****
We are soft grunge.
Play it by fear.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Yo soy *****
**** immigration and the racist white tèjanõs, please tell me how the hell would they ever know what I know, shout out to my Mexicans Hondurans and black Cubanos shut the border down call it the no fly zone. Adios Americanos me and my amigos are stealing ya women and playin em like pianos, vocal terrorist this lyrical revolt should be your primary interest. Public enemy number one the domestic hectic terrorist I'm influencing your white son, right to bear these nuts I'm taking the tea parties guns stealing your freedom from right up under you, all your jobs, and way of life, your point of view. I'm the original black power ranger hide your right winged minds if not I swear they'll be in danger. I am the broken brick the stone left unturned the rhythm of the wind the willingness to learn and the desire to fight and get what you earn. I am the individual placed on the no fly list with my hand balled into a fist cause my turbin is too tight and my beards to thick. I am the man choked to death by nypd for selling cigarettes now I'm rioting with my words doing lyrical pirouettes. Yo soy ***** spitting jive like lingo I want a Pam Grier keep your Marilyn Monroe, from the 6th borough buckin like bronco they said finish em I'm educated and black had to hit em with the combo. I'm non fictions Huey Freeman battling congress and their demons catch me flexing on the law lookin like the black He-Man Standing up for what I believe in writing in my notepad I stay steady schemin with my head up in the clouds I stay steady dreamin. Yo soy ***** freeze em like sub zero not concerned with dolores or the dinero yen or bills yo, I'm still waiting for marvel to make a Mexican superhero.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
)(
( on a Real Road --- on a Real Day )
(
)
(.
)
(
)
\/
/\
/ \
##
( do you know one ? )
<>
Beyond the
God & Goddess ... Jive
Beyond the Tarot Card images
Or the poetic vision of an ornately described
Mystic Sky
//
Is a real man
And a lovely girl
Trying to love
And keep the World alive
//
Just a ..... real man
With human sight
)(
The moon is just the moon
( it feels right )
The lake is just the lake
( and thirst quenched is a sacred thing )
ain't no naked myths floating by
//
Just a real man
A real woman
And they're talking about a real child
( A child who needs
A real humanity )
:::
Oh YE poets
Who shame the WORD
who wander in between
Lust and blasphemy
///
Come !
Sing the real song
Calls us to the hills
Where the last of the living
Are gathering
///
( it is the end of the World
It is the end of days )
;:;.
And everyone is waiting
For you to become
"""""
A real man
On a real road
On a real day
;;((
:::
Yes ! Yes !
THIS very one
//
A real man
;;::
( I knew you'd come )
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Locked down nineteen hours
Five hours he plays
That’s the way the prisoner
Whiles away his days
On death row for the murders
Of his wife and son
Locked in a four foot nine cell
For the crime he’s done
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Decomposing and headless
In San Francisco Bay
He said she was missing
But she was found that way
His son’s lifeless fetus
Had previously washed ashore
Which repulsed everyone
Even that much more
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Her family were all hoping
She’d be found alive
Though he knew she was dead
He feigned concern (what jive)
She was weighted down
Which made him quite convinced
That she’d never be found
Floating in that rinse
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
While they were contemplating
Their poor loved one’s fate
His only concern was
Which chick he should date
See he had to satisfy
An internal itch
But karma is a mother for ya
It can be a *****
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
I don't apologize for my blackness and your fear seems like this beautiful melanin enriched skin is a blessing and a curse. police offers using our young men's as target practice ripping our rich black roots from the ground and scathing them them all over the cold blood stained concrete streets that my people paved.they just want us to dance sing and play ball to entertain them. they don't want us to succeed and move on to bigger and better things so sinister grins creep upon their faces as they watch us slaughter eachother in the streets. they watch us struggle to get out of poverty they say we're all on welfare and ain't **** but how can we move up in the world and get out of poverty when this system wasn't built to benefit us? we are more than the stereotypes. we are doctors lawyers entrepreneurs nurses designers filmmakers activist.we are intelligent intellectual beings with knowledge that surpasses all understanding. they don't want us to open our mouths and speak our truth...they want us to shut up and chuck and jive and kiss their pasty white ***** to the bone they want us to ignore the blatant racism and discrimination we face everyday and be content that we aren't enduring as much pain as the ones before us have. but we will not shut up. we do experience racism. we do experience discrimination. and our people are dying everyday from it.how dare you utter the words respect yourself and well respect your from the same mouth that slandered my ppl and taught us to hate ourselves with? we were taught to love everything that was white and hate everything that was black and love blonde long straight hair and blue eyes and hate our chocolate skin and ***** hair but these ***** roots are deep...no matter how much you try and destroy them they are deep and run through us all. so my brothers and sisters... be proud of your roots take care of your roots embrace your roots love everything about yourself from that ***** *** hair that breaks all the teeth of your comb to your chocolate skin that glows in the sunlight and those strong minds and powerful voices because black is beautiful, black is powerful black is brilliant, black matters.
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
The day is bright and blue,
While the night hails the universe's true view.
The sun, hailed as the giver of all life and the first true fire,
As the moon is considered all of death's lyres.
While life is given power by the sun,
The moon is the cloak for all of its assassins.
As the sun is fiery and passionate,
Our moon is quiet and loves maleficence.
As the day gives only the bare truth,
The night covers all that who are to sleuth
Sun and moon,
God and Satan,
Earth and sky,
Truth and jive,
Life and death,
Fire and water,
Dusk and dawn
Diverting Martyrs
Oppositions of our humainty,
Sun and moon,
Balance our reality...
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
Your riding on empty, your riding on fumes
Aint it about time you started paying your dues?
Hey snowflake move out of daddy's basement
Aint it about time you started paying your rent
It's been years since you've earned a red cent
Hey snowflake move out and live in a tent
The cronies you adore are taking you for a ride
Aint nobody here that's digging your jive
You have no concept between wrong and right
News flash: You're just a young parasite
You have this idea you're better than most
The sad Truth is you're nothing but toast
It's about time you owned up to it
You're nothing but a societal misfit
Hey snowflake you're on the wrong path
Hey snowflake start doing the math
Nobody seems to be safe from your wrath
Do us all a favor by taking a bath.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Trucking on the country road
Welcomed citizens waving in behold
Trucking wheels making the hill climb
Checking my rear view mirrors at the same time
Country music playing on the radio
I am observing families having a good time on their patio
I am blowing my trucker’s horn
It’s the cars I want to warn
Driving at 65 miles per hour
I have a tight schedule, and must be on time in arrive
I have very important cargo and that’s no jive
I stopped at a diner for a little bite
As it is going to be a very long night
It will be my trucker’s headlights
But to my fellow truckers I must be polite
It will be driving through towns and pass cities downtown
A moving highway into destination bound
But smoky will be on my tail
So I can’t speed being the trail
As my truck heads into the sunrise, it’s the flashing lights that make my wheeler’s wise.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
Waltzing through the chaos that life’s left for today,
Dragging along my battered horn in case she wants to play
‘Scuse me, Ms. Bartender, but I’ve got something to say
Ain’t nobody listening to the radio anyway
I don’t need a soapbox, no suit or microphone
Just a space to spread the truth wherever I may roam
I speak straight from the bottom of a bottle left at home
The night is not much easier when you take it on alone
Hear ye, hear ye, gather round to hear a tale
Of dreaming big, working hard, but destined still to fail
Shredding that loopy little melody,
The craziest cat you ever did see
Make you feel so alive, ladies screaming, “Wow boy!”
I jump and I jive, cuz I’m a bebop cowboy
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
This morning,
I walked with god and man, and animal
I've come to believe,
no other possibility,
He denies me sleep
as His insurance policy
some One wants to be sure,
someone sees His sunrise poem,
He selected this ancien regi-man
to be His admiring audience,
with deer, squirrels, rabbits, a red fox, an osprey
always complaining, why do they get
the cheap seats
so up at five,
no jive,
gotta get there early,
for a good seat,
on the dock by his name
watch the color blue transgender
from feminine elegy elegant pale
to peacock royal male,
the water,
a contributing editor,
phases in with a steely grin,
with ermine whitecap hints
and an orange marmalade sky homage,
I cannot try to describe
and here is where man comes in...
as the tableau reveals a still life
come to be,
a painting enlivened,
come to me free,
bursting with
effervescence and
animal life tribunes,
paying on...
strange...
my Pandora app
back to back,
plays for me
Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue,
hard upon it comes
Saint-Saëns's
The Carnival of the Animals
and I
enfeebled amateur,
needy for a
word titan Titian,
can think only
this trite thought:
*I know not who is the
instrument and who
is the
artist,
but virtuous us,
We, all, now-capital-buddies,
now, all, well-color-capitalized,
god and man and animal,
crooning a chorus of appreciation
let this "accidental" miracle,
this collaboration,
enthuse me,
to live happily
with anticipation
for just one more day...*
June 2014
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 6:56 AM UTC
The tiny town's
talented tailor
swiftly sews silken suits,
in his shop he plays the Wailers,
Bob Marley fills his boots.
Beside his shop
sits Susie's Sushie,
she serves him lunch
every Tuesday,
he leaves a tip because
she treats him well,
he's got a crush
and she can tell.
After lunch
it's back to work,
measuring here
and stitching there,
everything is done
just savoirfaire.
All the town folk
say he is the master,
he smiles at this
and works all the faster.
Then on the corner
the clock strikes five,
with the last suit hung
he says enough of this jive.
He shuts the light
and locks the door,
nine bells tomorrow
he'll be back for more.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 8:33 AM UTC
My amusement comes from the music.
Every riddim that flows freely.
The bass go boom boom boom.
Every tune blooms open like flowers in the summer.
The sound of the drummer; and the tempo from the bass
The mellow vibe vibrations soothes all frustration.
Relaxation.
Its live and jive.
And it makes my hips sway.
I'm talking about di gud ol reggae.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
It tastes sour in my skin
The water diverts his eyes upon the curves
I rub them with my fingernails
The tips cried for disturbance.
The pebbled stones in purity
Spit out their dirt with every moist
The need to exhale the longing days
The desolation of their own race.
It stinks with the cover of my skin
No vinegar to pour on the occuring reds
No tablet nor capsule to jive the tummy
There, I'll groove with the ratio of water.
I left the leaves on the dirt
And yes, those gravel and mated things in the sack
Alone am I, here in my own nest
Watching the faded stars and grasping the air.
Neither can I reach the ultimatum
The shutters in me were all aware and trained
The body in rest be put in silence
For the war of itch diverts the angle.
(6/13/14 @xirlleelang)
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
If all you want is an image
Just imagine this
A man to your liking
with features so striking
A man you can’t resist
If all you want is emotion
Just emote to me
And we’ll start pretending
That love’s never-ending
And happy we will be
Mold me into any shape you want
Hold me, roll me
Shuffle, cut and fold me
I’ll be yours for life
Slash me, bash me
Slice and dice and mash me
I’ll be the perfect man
For the perfect wife
Let me be your Frankenstein
Let me be the love you pine
I’ll be yours and you will be mine
Let me be your Frankenstein
Draw up a blueprint
Make out a plan
Tell me what you need
A groovy assortment
Of all the important
Things that you can’t see
A wizards brain
A heart of gold
A fiery touch
And I’ll be sold
So if you find him
Bring him here
I’ll pay to rent him
Every year
Don’t be jive
And don’t be bold
For every story
Ever told
Ends up somewhat
Not so clear
So if you find him
Bring him here!
Searching woman look no more
You have found your dream
I’m worth two plus three times four
Let me join your team
You can see that I’m the one
I’m just what you need
So I ask no fee save one
Let me, Let me be
Let me be your Frankenstein
Let me be the love you pine
I’ll be yours and you will be mine
Let me be your Frankenstein
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
Life takes many
strange turns and sometimes
we just never seem to learn
as we keep making
the same mistakes
over and over again
seemingly enjoying
the burn.
So much pain
but sometimes the pain
feels so good
leaving us to wonder
"how could that pain
be turned into gain?"
If it doesn't **** you
it makes you stronger
and allows you
to live a little bit longer
so just relax
and don't do anything
that might hurt you
until you have all
of the facts.
I choose to write poetry
to ease the pain
and to block those memories
of having played along
with those stupid
little games from all
of those no names
that I am trying to forget
and replace with
thoughts of a new love
and new memories
that we will create
in the future.
I am still alive
despite every ones
******** jive and stupid lies
and realize that if
they didn't **** me that
they only made me stronger
and as a result
I am going to be around
for awhile longer. Jon York 2013
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
One of my favorite hobbies
is watching people
on the train.
Some on their
daily commute,
dressed in suits,
hurriedly sipping
coffee,
checking their
wrists with
frequency,
ensuring they
arrive not even a
minute late.
So many,
myself included,
travel along to
their own
soundtracks,
earbuds helping
them to tune out
the cabin noise
around them.
Bodies swaying
back and forth,
movement in sync,
limbs dancing
the train's tango,
left, right,
forward, and back,
and for the encore,
we all jolt and jive hard
as the wheels
screech to a stop
halfway down the
green line.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
As the gangsta dies
On a hot and humid Florida mornin'
A poor grievin' young wife is torn
This is ghetto
And his crew cries
Because if there's one thing that they don't need
It's another corner boy to bleed
This is ghetto
Society, don't you understand
The hood needs a helping hand
Or they'll grow to be all angry young men one day
Take a look at them and me,
Are we too black to see,
Do we simply shut our mouths
And speak in another way
While the hood rolls
And an inspired young boy with a funny jive
Deals on the corner as he collects high fives
This is ghetto
And his crib burns
So he starts to scare the folks with fright
And he teaches how to deal
And he teaches how to bite
This is ghetto
Then one night in conversation
A young rat screams out loud
She buys a toy, steals a heart,
Tries for fun, but it won't even start
Then her man tries
As the crew gathers 'round a stupid young ***
Face down in the pillow with a ***** in her ******
This is ghetto
As the neighbourhood sighs
On a hot and humid Florida mornin'
Another poor grievin' young wife is torn
This is ghetto
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC
Okay, so maybe I'm just a little bit
Sentimental
What's wrong with that?
So I want to keep pictures
So I want to hold things dear
Nothing wrong with that
Nothing wrong at all
So what if the last thing you are
Is sentimental
So what if you're a total *******
So what if I'm just kicking the pavement three steps behind you
It's not like I'm like
Awfully sentimental
You don't like junk
You don't think I think things through
I just wanna jive and be a human bean
You think I'm just too
Sentimental
But what the **** is wrong with being
Sentimental
You know what?
I really don't care that much anymore
You've lost your luster
So what if I'm no longer sentimental
Maybe it was all a show
Maybe neither of us are all that likeable
Maybe we should all just stop being
Sentimental
Maybe we should all be a little more
Sentimental
**** it, but I don't care that I'm
Sentimental
No, not anymore.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
Laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous hypotaxis apomixis strive
Rainbow mare aura roan exude emote derive
Syntactical propinquity habitation harbinger harangue stoic hive
Colloquialism vernaculars prurient adage jargon idiom clichés jive
Mirador bartizan panorama stalwart bastion bulwark tableau live
Canny cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive
Poignant cogent piquant ephemeral effulgence temporal refraction arrive
Paradoxical dichotomy greaves gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts survive
Hectic mayhem , proximity parameter perimeter peripherals , annihilate rive
Zingy zesty zany zenithal azimuth entity zeal alive
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
The party starts at ten to three.
On the second floor,room twenty two
two vicars who had come down from Crewe were wondering just what to wear, to the shindig going on down there.
They collided,both decided to put on crimson frilly frocks,this was not a 'do' for cassocks or for smocks.
Room forty four up on the forth,was Lucy Ann,a double barrelled name of course,a horsey type who came by invite to liven lively up the night.
In number ten slept teacup Ken,who had never once imbibed,the porter was slipped a twenty,but was bribed to keep his big mouth shut, as ties were cut and Ken found Zen in a brandy glass,
and discovered parties were a gas.
The police arrived to room fifty five and found Miss Sterling doing the jive around the severed head of Fred the cook,
poor Fred never had any kind luck.
There is no escape from the party at Lancaster Gate and those who come are those who'll die
but the party is so flamin' good I'll try to sneak in,got to take a peek in room number twenty seven,where it's said,that the lady there can show you several kinds of heaven before you meet your doom.
Got to get in, get a room,check in time expires at noon.
I shall no doubt expire,naked by the fire in
room, one o one.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
Right or wrong
Short or long
Agree or disagree
When singing a song
Ape or kong
Blunt or kong
When you're high
Its like you're living a life of a person from Hong Kong
Persuasive talker
Convincing stalker
Both of these are mind players
But I'd rather choose to ignore them with a bottle of Johnny Walker
Subconscious mind
Left behind
Likw a hypnotist I'll pursue this until I find
Blame it on the left
Decision making
The oven of thoughts
Busy opinion baking
Anxiety is close
Hands are shaking
All of the mess I made
I'll be out there raking
Mostly its pressure from your peers
Flowing through your ears
Seems like you've conquered most of your fears
And then peers begin to cheer
Sensors begin to hear
That you were wrong to listen to them,dear
Its...
One thought to another
Disrespecting you mother
Ignoring your father
Cause' you'd rather...
Party till the morning
Drink while you're yawning
Get drunk until you sleep on the lawn and...
Drink and jive
Drink and drive
An accident happens
Then you're no longer alive
But you thought you'll survive
That's because death gave you a high five
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
Becoming... hmmm...
what am I... becoming...
is this the enlightenment
of my trip? hmm...
journeying through the seasons
of inner time and place...
therein which lies... a space....
not that sort.... not the sort of the
spicky icky spacky... space...
it's the... hmmm... sleepy space...
I sit and wonder... this place is where I... ponder...
fabric... the fabric of this life...
I AM FLOATING INTO THIS CHAIR
CONCEPT BANDS
CONCEPT ALBUMS
THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO SEE I AM JUST LIKE TIMOTHY LEARY
... but that... that is only a character.. the outlook I assume in..certain moods...
that state of worry... that's what I mean.
I am the wind
the sea
...
speak friend,
enter...
speak...
speak to me.
'I see we meet again... hmmmm...'
The music keeps changing my moods, you see...
Subconscious... I must be more mindful...
'Increase mindfulness'
I must bring the feelings... out
don't shove them away...
don't shove me away...
on this normal
squashy day
Love your dark shadow love the wolves
streams of consciousness I must cut up all of these streams
I worry too much about the future... am I crazy? or just afraid of being...
telepathy
Here's this concept that I have that represents all of these feelings that I have that I tell
to you and you receive as whatever feelings you associate with said concept
and hope they match up
I only write when I have something to preach... a sermon, you see..
yet I write every day...
to preach a sermon to me
'Does it make me bad?' this way I am?
does it make you.. mad?
mushy swampy bog filled mushrooms
I sag into the soppy plants in me
this world is my swamp
and this swamp is me
into the swampy swamp I romp
All day I ravage roam
I stomp
jive my vibe...
Exotic exodus execution
into the deep reeds
paddling the little cellophane canoe
Must... move...
Must... go...
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
My personal déjà-vu-time memory-prompts that frame
The blurring patterns of today’s hubcap-wheels, spinning
Kaleidoscope flashbacks of bathtub playtime.
A gaggle of giggling girls babbling about
What used to matter : umbrella-popping chewing gum
With gallivanting jargon laced in crushes-hushed : boy-talk.
Pillows : Comforters morphing, swarming like
Womb-entranced, half-cupped palms calmed
Palpitating mouths motoring off self-pitying rumble-grumbles.
How the clopping ball of opted-birr was a bent-mouth birdcall
Over-relished, over-zealous imploration : a round robin
Jumblemix of a jejune bombast for slap-sticked power.
By-and-by polysyllabic buds bloomed, baked, and wrinkled
Past-Gas’s long-gone jokes : those balmy snug-hugs guarding
Doltish vulgarity among the begrimed-glitch and old-grown-boring Jive.
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 11:49 PM UTC
*You arrived suddenly in my tangerine bliss
with my heart clinched in your fist
you touched me... and the dance started
with a gape of spontaneous combustion
you swirled me around the dance floor
dancing cheek to cheek....*
we skipped the light fandango
fox trotting and waltzing to the beat of tango
the big band broke into a swing
while the love light shone as a crystal disco ball
jitterbug jive and a reet beet
dance macabre and so light on our feet
*You lead me by the hand bodies musing
all the while... you lead me out by my hand
and made way into the galaxy for our feet
as we danced like fine wine...becoming intoxicated
by its beauty~ you danced me into Shangri-La
with my eyes wide and full of imagination
we danced through tangled forests of light*
like Fred and Ginger
tiptoeing upon the backs of stars
dipping into galaxies and twirling on quasars
i hold your hand as you pirouette
upon the moons of a mystic world
as our romantic lambada is unfurled
forbidden planets and forbidden dance
the secrets of whirlwind romance
*we were like Phoenix that had risen
dancing into the morning dew and nectarine
and I kissed you as the tangerines fell
from the sky~ dazed with a trial of stars
and then oh yes then.... I pronounced myself
as yours....as we escaped to paradise
dancing all the while.....cheek to cheek
as you gave me the Tangerine Kiss.....*
tangerine kisses, tangerine dreams
sipped of the nectar of the gods
the fruit of creation in the form of love
a blessing from goddess, earth and above
we dance the steps of swoon and lean
and sweet nuances of tangerine
with every blessing in between
*I felt a kiss upon my frozen cheeks
a clear promise of all our tomorrows
as I sleep with love within our hearts
your sweet tangerine kisses and dreams
are part of our creation... straight from above
My heart is dancing and dreaming
with you always a blessing from God.*
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC