"misdirect" poems
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say?
Forget it—never mind,
You wouldn’t understand anyway,
Would you even know what it's like?
Inside a scattered disconnected mind,
Employed to go on strike?
Where indirect misdirect
The sincerity at play,
When sinusoidal chaos spikes
And past meets the future present day?
As paranoid points outlandishly connect
At intervals of broken lines,
Memory lost in recollect,
An array of misshaped bells
Internally infect the eternal confines
Of infinite distributional decay,
Parallels with no intersect,
Streetwise cells with empty signs,
Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines,
Littered all the way.
How am I to convey that all those times
You let your mind wander away
That I was reading, thinking, dreaming,
Teeming, never idle, never strayed,
Seeing, being, so far and away,
Even the brightest intellect beaming,
Could not grasp the feeling
In the slightest of highest orders reeling,
Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming,
Imperfect, even to the disarray
Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict
Could not predict the reflect,
For in this world, seeing is deceiving,
As the lamest reject, defect,
Increasingly decreasing,
In simplistic bliss obey
Crowned unsound fallacies
That contradict all meaning,
Hiding behind reality, the actualities
Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving,
Let me stop you if I may...
I must interject for I digress,
What nonsense was I weaving?
Forget it—I've lost my mind,
I best be leaving,
What more can I say?
It's periodic I must confess,
You probably don't care anyway,
Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay,
Until next time I guess,
I wouldn't want to be misleading.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
If you let this architect interject
My subject you'll dissect effectively correct
I'll try to make it clear
If you inspect or introspect with intellect these indirect
Pretentious scribbles misdirect
Collect your wits my dear
If you elect I'll be direct
No intended disrespect
I don't expect that you'll reject
A change of atmosphere
If you accept I won't defect you mustn't reflect this henpecked insects unchecked neglect
Tonight with luck I'll in fact infect
You with a grin from ear to ear
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he came to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we must hide."
"Herr Goebbels was our school's inspiration.
Joe McCarthy taught here till he died.
Charlie Rangel is among our directors.
Our Grads over nations preside."
"We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Grad course in prevarication
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Obama was born in Hawaii,
his foes say he was birthed out of state."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
told whoppers in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the World's Great Religions
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, without moving my lips.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he scurried up to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we endeavor to hide."
""We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Graduate course in lying
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Politicians here are made, not born,
and must learn to prevaricate."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some Coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
telling lies in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the Koran and Bible
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, barely moving my lips.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
What is it
within the realm of
my Self
that has the nerve
to question the divinity
of this current, fleeting moment?
Is it not the vessel of Life, itself,
that is used to navigate
these, the occluded
Seas of Death?
Could it not be
that a Mind and Body
are the very salvation
over which we so toil?
Would it not be an act of pure mercy
to have the capacity to look around
and to think, and create
while, all the time,
being pulled under
by the inevitable tide of change
we, in English, chose to call
"Death?"
That, in itself,
should inspire me to carry on
and to turn an eye
up from the ground, back from the past;
to within my self; this current moment;
and on, upward:
to the skies and, likewise,
the future.
What is it about my Mind
that so enjoys, or perhaps requires
some selfish sense of 'overlooking'
for the sake of ephemeral comfort?
Alas,
I know what word I would use,
but I dare yet not to use it;
for, t'is that a word, itself,
isn't the concept, itself;
and it's use would be to misdirect
from the nature of the experience,
and to mistranslate what I feel.
I realize the necessity
for names; for words:
we use them to facilitate communication.
I also understand their limit:
there is a great realm
beyond the transparent restraints
of our Languages.
I would identify the culprit
as either "Ego," or "Id."
But, better yet, I would argue
"both and neither."
Freud had some great ideas,
but I tend towards Jung-
I could sooner call it the Shadow,
or at least one aspect of it.
The Shadow is semi-subconscious.
It is an amalgam of fears and repression.
It can only hold so much pressure
before it erupts.
So,
I implore you
to study your Shadow.
It has great potential for change.
Failing to utilize it
is to be utilized by it.
Make it work for you
or you will work for it.
Use your Shadow
to your advantage,
or it will use you
to that of it's own.
Pick apart your Self;
put it back together.
Sometimes that's easier said than done,
but, with a proper mindset,
it'll come and leave
before you even know it.
It happens all the time.
Refuse the shackles
of thy Shadow;
break the chains
and share with the world
the fleeting feeling
of self-liberation.
That is,
if someone doesn't misinterpret what you've said;
looking through the Shadow,
everything looks darker.
Realize where you're going.
Realize what you're doing.
Heed what you feed,
external or internal.
Seek Balance.
Explore Ideas.
Gain Understanding
no matter how slow:
at all
is far better
than so many.
No one may escape these Seas;
but you can start some ripples
that will propagate ad infinitum.
Ask. Practice. Learn. Grow.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
I often think of love and death
For they often seem the same
One cannot exist without the other
It is the end of suffering
That we find in the kindness
In the lips of their kiss
There is both the thrill and fear of the unknown
When we feel the approach of either one
Too often fear has the stronger pull
For even the excitement of the thrill can terrify us
We run from love we could embrace
For fears of its validity its vitality its inevitable end
The pain and suffering we see in its wake
We use our past failures and misconceptions of love
To judge and misdirect our current and future interactions with love
It is hard to belive that love is immortal
When we belive ourselves to be not
To live in fear of death
Only robs us of moments
We could better spend in the pursuit and hands of love
We cannot escape death
We cannot out run its grasp
We cannot avoid its breath
We cannot hide behind locked doors from it
Yet we often fear it as if fear will shield us from its inevitable kiss
And once again in spending time with fear
We are only losing moments we could better enjoy in the pursuit of life
It is in this pursuit of life we should find freedom from fear
That death is not a thief of immortality
And that we find ourselves immortal when we embrace love
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Here are the wherefores and whys
Alternative facts are just lies
Projected as strong alibis
To misdirect the unwise
The photos offer us the proof
That alternative facts aren’t the truth
From the mouth of the liar and chief
It’s incredulous beyond belief
Admittedly she’s a real jewel
Convincing to those she can fool
But she’s being used like a tool
And that is unusual and cruel
The universe she’s living in
Is ruled by an ocean of spin
She does it because she can
Can we have the church say amen
The press is truly amazed
How she instantly coined the phrase
Alternative facts now replays
In interesting and varied ways
Like no one wants to see his taxes
When the opposite is where the facts is
But I guess she’s had so much practice
At the prestidigitation she waxes
She’s his spokesperson, as it were
Her words rarely represent her
Over time it becomes a blur
Though that thought might not occur
His taxes remain on a shelf
So blame him and nobody else
If he de-legitimizes himself
Like Kramden, I’m talkin’ ‘bout Ralph
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
Once there was a nation, which
Boasted of its wealth and size.
In that nation lies became truth,
And truth became known as lies.
Thus, the country corroborated
An expert's wise and salient prediction
That soon the people everywhere
Wouldn't know fact from fiction.
"Science is irrelevant,"
The leaders of the land decreed.
"Clamp down on critical thinking
And we'll maintain control indeed."
The people became MORE baffled,
MORE confused, MORE perplexed,
And wondered what kind of craziness
They were going to encounter next.
The art of political doublespeak
Was praised, encouraged and expanded.
If you called it gobbledygook,
You were severely reprimanded.
Reporters who sought facts were called
"Purveyors of mendacity,"
While those who were irrational
Were "pillars of veracity."
The general rule was answer a question
With a question, or try to deflect
Any queries toward dead ends.
The tactic was called "Misdirect."
The leader was an expert at
Duplicity and subterfuge.
Ruling without intelligence
Can work when a person's ego is HUGE.
Sad it was to see such a land
Change from what it once had been.
Not until people opened their eyes
Would things improve. Not until then.
- by Bob B (3-21-17)
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
You don’t matter at all,
You hardworking citizen,
You who toil at drudgery
To feed all your children.
When we need you to vote
We pay attention to you
But the rest of the time
We look right through you.
You don’t matter at all.
Only the rich are essential
The rest of you are not;
You’re interchangeable.
You’re just marks on a page;
On the bottom of a ledger
And it’s best if you just
Work silently altogether.
The one percent matters
But if you are not rich yet
That means you are too stupid
To reach out and get.
The rich are a better class
And a truly valuable human.
All you non-rich are good for
Is to support us by consuming.
You don’t matter at all
Since you only vote for POTUS.
The rest of the time you all
Let us rob and you don’t outvote us.
We write laws that give more
And soon all of wealth to us
And then we point at someone else
For you to fail to back and cuss.
You don’t matter at all,
Or haven’t you even noticed.
You didn’t see that we urge
You to dwell in a field of lotus
Called football beer and Fox,
The news that is not really news;
Just something to misdirect.
It helps us shape your views.
You don’t matter at all.
You prove it every single day
By being so ignorant and lazy
We give this country away
We sell off your birthright
To the rich of other lands
And you all just run your mouth
And sit there on your hands.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Taker,
Take openly thou fool of non-fruited spirit!!!
Consecrator of pulse feelings,
Registrator of knighted dealings!!!!
Thy commitment to one means nothing,
Yet something means something to all who know no commandment,
Abandonment,
Surely runs across the express of adherance!!!
Longetivities lost hut is overly done,
Nothing is won't If you lost the poker skilled bet!!!
Doeth thou as so much as care yet?
Dont throw in all thy chips,
Manipulator of long finger nailed strips!!!
The newsboy doth not show around these ways,
No news,
All new-fangled misgivers,
Mischief singers misdirect all pity platoons!!!
Thy twin glossed repugnance is caught quietly,
Piece by piece,
You string up the earth to the next distant crescent!!!
Proprietor,
What shall thou propose?
Art thou the puppet played bafoon?
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
Virtually impossible I set my goals aside
Understanding your objectivity , I live my life with pride
I object to misdirect the world you live in fear
I refuse to believe in your truths ,to which you will adhere
Consequence to my defense you strive to see a lie
I hide behind the shattered dreams in my minds eye
Don't you care that I don't mind
I don't, who does?
It will , it was
I can't I won't
You do I don't
She,he,we,we,were
I shall save her.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he scurried up to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we endeavor to hide."
""We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"Our graduates cheat and suborn
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Politicians here are made, not born,
and all learn to prevaricate."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some Coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
telling lies in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the Koran and Bible
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The people must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, barely moving my lips.
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
The light fall attracts me and like a moth I'm distracted, burn and I go back again.
I spin and return to
feel the burn and contracting, but it's just me that's playing a part in a play, acting a role as directed.
Catherine wheel round to revolve, hit the ground and I smoulder, the smoke turns me blue, the flame sneaks itself out and the World gets a bit colder, but it's just acting, scene one, the World hasn't gone it's just hidden in her Ladyship's handbag.
Using a pin code to get over the main road I dodge all the traffic at nine,
the machines let me slow into the way, but I know which way they'd like me to go so I stay.
It's a misdirect and it's done to confuse me when the light finally fails me and the smoke tails off from me like rain from the gutter,
I splutter until I can utter no more cries,
dry my tears on a handkerchief
and go.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
shake the key prints from fingers at the end of the day,
walk on the sidewalk leaving a trail of all the alphabet used
to get through the day,
rinse and spit, rinse and spit,
wash out the mouth, that said words, combining letters and sounds,
to get a message across,
can't close the eyes for the walk home,
traffic would honk, as I wandered on the road, or the only vehicle that is dangerous is the one you
don't hear.
Breathe breathe, congested inverted air now gone, except at each stop light,
it may seem fresh, it may seem clear, for the dozen minutes to home,
the lungs comb air from the building and air from the pollution,
what is the solution sought?
Leave it all behind, don't let infect, reject, misdirect, what needs to be said.
This is a free read, as well as a freewrite, in spite of all the bureaucracy
that waded beyond knees, so if books are published with poems or prose or
a mother's memoir or a monstrous surreal pieces of fiction, buy them all please,
and send the message needed to be heard... go home, and write so much more.
©DWE012014
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
I’m hiding because
it’s easy to do
To misdirect you
To hide the true me
So that you cannot see
I’m scared
So I prepare
The perfect cover
And hope you don’t discover
What truly hides beneath the veil
That turn people pale
Just because I’m hidden
Doesn’t mean I’ll put down that pen
To write what I feel
To draw a tight seal
Over what I hid
What I hid
Lies in truth amid
But you need to open your eyelid
Help me see
A better day
A day with you and me
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 8:33 AM UTC
Splinter and divide,
time after time,
bluster and misdirect,
point to the workshy or foreigners,
twist the knife in vulnerable hearts
and fan the fear
We’re here because at some point past
we agreed this land should last
that it stands for goodness and right
and all heads shared the thought
so the idea
became
Our disgust and indignance
threatens a retreat
so the squeakiest wheel triumphs
through attrition
Your mission,
should you choose to accept it,
is this:
Call out the heartless, the bleak,
the self self self serving,
the thoughtless, the blinkered
the unthinkers
Every breath, every day
our grit and mettle can save us
and an idea worth saving
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 6:14 AM UTC
“i can't breathe, andy!”
she shrieked
as his fingers tickled
her sensitive underarms
laughter ringing
“i can't breathe, andy!”
she shrieked
as his fingers curled
around her throat
cries ringing
Aug 4, 2021
Aug 4, 2021 at 11:17 PM UTC
I am anything but simple
I tell this to myself daily
Referring to the laws and principles
Of physics and philosophy
Help me to better affirm
My self applied identity
Like a mask carefully painted
With articulate lines intended
To misdirect my audience
With clever puns or phrases
Turned in on themselves
As a means to prevent you
Seeing the simplicity of me
And my basic reality
Where even lime would be jealous
Craving doses of muratic acid
To raise my alkalinity
So that I can burn away
This distasteful facade I parade
Revealing the true face of a man
Burdened and afraid
Never questioning the worth
Of my abnormal normality
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
in quarantine locked is the mind
never free,
when the body enslaved
you think,
you are free to dispute
this contention
or so you think...
*but when you write of your current condition,
understand you’ve lost in thinking winning
the body|mind a single singularity, so
when you smack your head against the Fifth wall,
desperate to believe, concede to conceive that
no in Hindi, same in any language, caged body
is pleased to misdirect, dress up yes, but my elder
wisdom, has read Monte Cristo, and no matter how
you count, until free in both organs,*
you can’t count as far as 1,
the nomenclature of unity.*
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 11:19 AM UTC
Reality show
Notoriety hoes
Follow what glows
Behind a fame nose
In a shame pose
As the game goes
They keep staying low
While nasty stains grow
From thinking vapidly
And acting rapidly
Not speaking factually
We don’t see them actually
Seeming tame
And plain
Seeking fame
Their aim
All the same
They play a game
Of hoops of flame
Becoming circus acts
By removing tact
On a negative track
Of shooting flak
And shooting back
Negativity attracts
Harmful impacts
At an old impasse
Of cold syntax
Warranting a gin tax
Drinking from a tin flask
So the emptiness is masked
The reverb
Resurge
Rewords
The birds
Caught in the Internet
Like a flying intercept
Stealing their intellect
With a mundane misdirect
Of inane interests
A new method for dollar dreamers
Now the cynical screamers
Are digital streamers
Pivotal pleasers
Concerned with clicks
By scratch and kick
They hatch a trick
To match a *****
Dispatched to fix
Their lack of hits
The loud and obnoxious
Are proud of the noxious
And opening boxes
They stream video games
Other people made
They just played
For a good grade
In the leisure lane
No pleasure or pain
To treasure my brain
Their reality shows
In modality woes
Personality froze
Under their nose
In a monitor glow
Development slows
As far as irrelevant goes
They’re part of the flow
That doesn’t grow
Taking the shameful road to attention
For a dishonorable mention
Avoiding knowledge retention
For a superficial invention
Of social extension
They have a fatal mentality
That perception is reality
But the exception is vitality
That isn’t just an eventuality
For one must be capable and willing
To try to produce something fulfilling
Instead of just simple time killing
While hourglass sand keeps spilling
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Everything will eventually fall apart
You must keep running
Steering towards your masterpiece
The pain must shape you as a vessel that can withstand all the tragedies
Your captains wheel must point in the direction you will one day crash
you must keep running
For all life's tragedies are waiting to shred you apart
To try and misdirect you so that your vision seems impossible
Pain must only be used as another tool embedded in these bodies
For the one thing you are guaranteed is pain
How you handle it is completely your responsibility.
Paint your pain or let it **** you
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC