"missle" poems
.
( we who wonder where you are )
( • • )
And
Why do you stay in the fires burning (?)
)•(
one drifting image fading
The tiny child on the streets
The drone plane circling overhead
The missle loaded and about to go
We sit and watch but never see
Really anything at all
•••••+•••••
The sweet young girl child
The muse of the poets who live
( the few who've survived )
::
I made love to a poet once
In the morning all there was
Was a pool of blood that spelled out
The word
BROKEN !
On the floor
Amid the sound
Of demons laughing
"""•"""
She
Was a cute kid
Now she's dead
A 12 year old
Dead terrorist
|||
we wander bravely from
Bedroom to bathroom
To kitchen
To school
Telling tales of mundane
Brief fantacies
And forays
Into reality
But then we left and come here
//
The vintage day
($)
All the frills
)(
We
Tiny bodies
So abused
:
.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 6:19 AM UTC
Getting serious my friends
The first cruise missile hits
Middle East will explode
The President I have supported
Needs to rethink this
Grow some cojones
Realize he is stuck between
A rock and a hard place
But we shouldn't cherry pick
Which bad guys to go after
Enough blood and treasure spilled
On sticking our noses in where they don't belong
But is GB and GD and VX
Worse than starving your nation
Want to go after bad guys
Go after that crazy ****** in North Korea
Ask yourself if Iraq and Afghanistan
Are better now than before
Plenty of bad guys here in U.S.
Time to stop being the policemen of the world
Listen, CINC
Let us worry about home
Yes, killing children with poisonous gas
Is despicable
But will missle strikes
Change the picture
Syrias as serious can be
Best to let war take its course
Than trying to change history
Another Rubicon
We don't need to cross
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
Waiting, sitting patiently
For the days end whistle
Then, I'm gone out to my truck
I'm like a human missle
The final hour of the day
My only thought I'm thinking
is getting gone
And getting out
To go and do some drinking
Boys are waiting
Beers on tap
It's Friday night
The weeks a wrap
Amp the music
Chill the beer
Cue the crowd
The weekend's here
Two beers in
And there she was
I didn't know her
I was at a loss
She asked me nice
To have a dance
I thought here I go
Here is my chance
I can't two step
I can't waltz
It's just that I
was never taught
But at that moment
On the floor
Holding her
I wanted more
Boys are waiting
Beers on tap
It's Friday night
The weeks a wrap
Amp the music
Chill the beer
Cue the crowd
The weekend's here
My buddies said
Let's move along
I told them all
"just one more song"
I wasn't leaving
Not tonight
I'd found my girl
And things were right
We talked and danced
And danced and talked
My dancing,
Still was bad
But at the end
When last call came
To end it made me sad
Boys are waiting
Beers on tap
It's Friday night
The weeks a wrap
Amp the music
Chill the beer
Cue the crowd
The weekend's here
Time flew by
Like it's wont to do
When things are going well
We made a date
To meet again
That's a good sign,
I could tell
I'm waiting for the day to end
I'm waiting for that whistle
I'm heading out, this time to dance
I'm still a human missle
The boys have lost me for a while
I even cut my hair
I think I'll see just where this leads
And I'll be dancing my way there.....
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
But one day when futures are bright
And school children dress in Sunday best
Great Machines will rise above the smoke
Great Buildings will rise above the smog
Great Minds will remain buried deep in humming labs
Scientist and machines
Gears and cogs
Rusting in the fluorescent
Glow
Of progress
Boys will
Girls will
Fight the good fight
Of human being
The Kissing on each other
The Drugging with each other
Afternoons and jumped fences
Just to feel each others secrets
Boys will
Girls will
Be just as wrong
And just as bad
And will grow to say
Good boys and Good Girls Never do those things
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 4:30 AM UTC
~
**Wesson gives a lessen with a .357
David slings rock
cop holsters a glauk
Lizzy Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife
Billy battles with a club
Tommy's gun is a sub
Kelly's got one too
Bazooka Joe is gum
Peter Gunn is not
Smokey has the right to "bear" arms
or did we just arm bears
don't let my gun become undone
never stifle my rifle
hear the whistle of my missle
think next I'll bring the tank
after that what do you bet? i'll come flying in a Jet**
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
Not quite white
Not quite spanish
Hungrier than both
Mad as a hatter
Revolve around the periphery
Of an institutional reality
Never wanted in
Just want to be the loudest
Soldier in my name
Myopic like a cruise missle
I will exist
I will resist
My front door was a portal to guayaquil, ecuador
And every morning
I would travel back to the states
On a yellow school bus
Singing songs
Watching the white kids play
Silent like a penitent altar boy
Realizing all at once
That i was not the same
I am not the same as you
Though my eyes are green
And my skin pale
You know nothing of my heart
Or the battles i've fought
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
My brother, Sean,
Had a pitcher's arm,
His catcher said
It was his only charm.
He could aim
With radar sight,
Used speed and curves
To get three strikes.
One summer day
I stole his bike,
He spied me,
Eyed me in his sights.
His first pitch,
Like a guided missle
Whistled past my head;
Aimed for my jawbone,
Missed the strike zone,
I headed straight for home.
His second pitch,
A screaming fast ball,
Barely missed my pate,
I felt that I was safe.
His friends made fun
With a Ball two call,
Sean took aim
With his dropball;
He wound up
Then released.
He threw high,
And I cried:
Bring in the Relief.
His pitch lived up to its name,
It dropped,
I felt the batter's pain;
Sean had worked his charm again.
I wasn't talking,
I wasn't walking,
They called me Out
On the neighbour's lawn.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
I cough up
your menstrual blood
when I hear his voice.
His fuckn words fall
with a thud.
I don't listen 'cause
I have that choice.
He's a weasel
wheelin' around
to push his ware.
When you want him
he can't be found,
he ain't nowhere.
I cough up
your menstrual blood
and that's no lie.
He ain't a missle
he's a dud,
the farthest thing from dope,
'way too far from fly.
The moral of the story is...
if you can be free from Scott
you can be scott-free.
© 2012
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
The ear,
The oil, resists
Stubborn word water
She locked her neck target
Like a missle mother
I chimed in
Like a dusty daughter
But she loaned attention
To someone further
Away I go
To ground control
So my flighty feet
Embrace the mold
Of the runways and get-a-ways
For which I've packed
Will busy mother
Want me back?
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
He has a voice for an empty night.
When no one else is up or interested,
He crushes out the words of his pagan love song
And the blue hasn't answered him yet.
What must it be like?, is the thought
Burrowing its way home to the secret core.
What must it be like to be one inside another?
The veins for the tempest of beats in a man's shape?
Too many thousands of days have rendered him
Lazarus but brave, champion of Hours in the lake:
Without the missle of the mission,
Nothing lasts but the foolish story.
The one. The two. To one again, but always
The desperate search. Heat and the rustle
Of body and body seems like the primary theme.
But the two hasn't echoed back yet.
Then the one hits the mark, as he watches apart
From the crowd that produces the crown.
Someday I, is the thought, will be part of a whole.
And sinks back to the evening streets.
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 9:05 PM UTC
Sweet bass and hello poet
Treble planes that flys on it.
Head phones that hold music,
But open up and let me do it....ha!
That's ******
Gutter mine Im blowing kisses
Missle toe my feet tappin..ha!
That's new Jordans
Sanctified my hands are clapping,
Reader prolly like is rapping?
Just join the dance
DANCE
Uncle Sam!!
I am pointing like his hand..
Watch the man
Watch the man
I'm just saying lift your hands
Lift your hands.
Put your song on and join the dance..!!!
Join the dance
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
It started with an S. Humbly mumbling yes no maybe i dont know oh **** vertigo should i let go. my brain was blasted, a cocktail of chemicals and superfluidious ether. The push pull ying yang fung shui grabs the heat seeking missle and grabs the brain, attracts sychronized vertacies but the magnitism flips as imaginary consequence givesway to repulsion of the imaginary sense. Pulsars pulsating sending shock waves through space time highways a terrible silence is heard then music then woah. Gravity wells staring me down warping and warming WARNING particle collision is immenent a stellar nurersy might be born of this hyperspace supernova scintilating energies might synchronize for the bonding of bodies creating a binary star system carefully dancing and explosivly romancing or it could be too much the system overloads entropy wins hot matter turned cold a black hole is formed.
Complicated intracacies to be sure. I think a caphonany was born if only i could phrophasize and figure out where my head flipped out and if there would be any imminent fallout. Wise to withhold or a missed chance to experience an amazing incredible moment where time and space may have seperated and two bodies joined in between the seams. Just amazing.
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
I am a pencil,
will you be my eraser?
I am a missle,
will you be my laser?
I am a car,
will you be my wheels?
I am romance,
will you be my feels?
I am in love,
will you marry me?
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
It started with an S. Humbly mumbling yes no maybe i dont know oh **** vertigo should i let go. my brain was blasted, a cocktail of chemicals and superfluidious ether. The push pull ying yang fung shui grabs the heat seeking missle and grabs the brain, attracts sychronized vertacies but the magnitism flips as imaginary consequence givesway to repulsion of the imaginary sense. Pulsars pulsating sending shock waves through space time highways a terrible silence is heard then music then woah. Gravity wells staring me down warping and warming WARNING particle collision is immenent a stellar nurersy might be born of this hyperspace supernova scintiling energies might synchronize for the bonding of bodies creating a binary star system carefully dancing and explosivly romancing or it could be too much the system overloads entropy wins hot matter turned cold a black hole is formed.
Complicated intracacies to be sure. I think a caphonany was born if only i could phrophasize and figure out where my head flipped out and if there would be any immient fallout. Wise to withhold or a missed chance to experience an amazing incredible moment where time and space may have seperated and two bodies joined in between the seams. Just amazing.
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
I stood over a still river on a bridge which connected two lands
I let a small boulder slip out of my hands
A cracking filled my ears as it broke water and caused a massive ripple
Side effects from the rock which dived into the calm body like a missle
Or a bomb.
Then pulled out a coin from my pocket and flipped it. It lands on the ground with a thud. The presidents face protruding out of the mud. I looked down to ask him " now how do we fix it?"
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
the first one was cocky and curly
brown eyes, strong jaw
a basketball boy who broke not only hearts
but laws.
i kissed him to forget my troubles
i kissed him to forget
i gave my all to him
even though i was not his to give
by the end of the year
he sat in the snow, crying, alone
i told him its not fun anymore, its time for me to go
i stood beside him, wanting to leave
needing to stay
i knew we'd meet again but back then? he was nothing to me.
the second one came in like a missle
i didn't have time to react
he was confident and smart
i'd always admired that
he held my hand and looked at me with greed
he ran to my house at night and in need
i spent so long saving him, i forgot to take a breath
so i left him with a note telling him how i'd never love again
at the time, i was lying, but things haven't felt the same since.
third came a girl with danger dripping in her eyes
mistakes tangled in her hair
she was alive and carefree, so i never saw her despair
i looked at her through rose colored lenses, she was perfect
she was mine
i didn't believe what others had said, even when i started seeing the truth with my own eyes
she wasn't loyal and she wasn't kind, my head had made it all up
it was hardest to leave this one,
'cause i never actually meant to fall in love.
the last girl was dark sunshine
her eyes were so grey
so blue
i felt the years on her shoulders, the world she constantly held up
the entity in her eyes trying to escape the past she knew
i wanted to make life easier for her
i taught her love, unknowing that i was only teaching her to love me
so when our time was up
on the 17th, she asked to date, you see
yes, i said out loud
no, i said in my head
i broke up with her three days later
its not my fault, to me, romance is dead.
what i gave to love you all
what i gave to break your hearts
but i had to do it
i'm a poet, i simply wouldn't survive if i was ripped apart.
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
It's so hard to like the man
And it's so hard to
Dislike the man
He traps me
With his cooking
While I'm eating
He talks to me
About kids he grew up with
In Virginia
About a loner with a short fuse
Who caught a stray
Shot of jello
Meant for someone else
From someone else's spoon
And he walked over
And slammed the spoon holder's face
Into the table repeatedly
Until he drew blood
And then sat back down
Without saying a word
About a kid who was
16 in the 7th grade
Quiet, never fought
Someone asked him
To whip his **** out
My dad
Holds his hands up at this point
"I **** you not Ben,
It was about a foot long!"
We laugh about this
For longer than we should
He also tries to impart his wisdom
Telling me that
Race, Religion, Politics
It's all useless
People are people
And you should take everyone
As they are
Yet,
His blame is missle guided
For such a humanist
It's always
"The ******* Christians"
"The ******* Republicans"
"The ******* Chinese"
He is hypocritical of
His own self proclaimed
Enlightenment
I can't tell if
It's a weak attempt at relation
Or
If he honestly thinks
That his hatred is implied
I have always been
A bit removed from my parents
After the divorce
And the new spouses
If he wants to relate
He should just
Be himself
And I'll be myself
And we'll both
Still die alone
Him hopefully sooner
Than myself
Not out of hate
But he's older
Still
Oftentimes
Fathers bury sons
If not in the ground
In their ideals
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 8:56 PM UTC
Jimbo the cat loved to go on the attack.
When people came over to visit his owners.
He flew like a missle at their backs.
Jimbo thought that he was just being playful.
But for people that didn't know him.
He needed to be a little bit more careful.
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
It's a cheap food source,
For the young,
Running like icicles
To their tongues.
It's wiped on sleeves
Up to the elbow.
Or rolled for ammo
Between finger and thumb;
It's a missle
When aimed and flung.
And during the night,
We don't know how,
It's smeared on walls,
Pillows and covers,
And hardens on headboards,
Where it stays and hoovers.
If you're at home,
In need of glue,
Your nose provides
A stick or two.
Granda uses hankies a lot
To dig and pick at his Grandkids' snot.
Blow one nostril at a time
To thoroughly purge the wet green slime.
It harbinges our imminent distress,
When we spot piles of wet kleenex.
And lastly,
At the dinner table,
When no one's looking,
Then you're able,
To stick your ******
Beside last week's gum.
If Dad or Mom
Should happen to see,
Just reply,
’Snot me!
Jan 30, 2024
Jan 30, 2024 at 9:56 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Vlad “The Destroyer
Is wreaking havoc
On Ukraine’s foyer
As a bomb and missle
Deployer
And an international
Annoyer
And a grave digger’s employer
Vlad “The Destroyer”
Couldn’t be coyer
Than an unemployed lawyer
Who’s labeled a ******
And a force majeurer
In an unnecessary war
Of his own undertaking
And his own making
Vlad “The Destroyer’s”
Inhumanity and insanity
is there for all to see
And what’s also key
Is no mystery
Cos it doesn’t have to be
Shaping modern history
That’s gotten blistery
Vlad “The Destroyer”
I’ll always insists
Has to be
Some kind of narcissist
So as he evaporates
Into the mist
Guess whos ***
He can kiss?
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2022. All rights reserved.
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 6:31 PM UTC
If I reach into your traveling star
will these hands turn to ash?
If I can no longer picture your calming eyes
in my imagination are you then gone
from my weary hearthfire?
Do the glowing embers fall silent the moment
I have forgotten the places where
we practiced our cosmic devotions?
When this time has passed
I am still not whole and no one
can save all these mists of rain,
alien roses gone green,
misty mountain spires blackened
by the pummeling fists of time.
I am the creator who wants to crush fear,
knowing this rushing onslaught of unasked-for doubt
and heart instability rises like bile from our thrashing chests.
In a moment I am gone.
Alone until the end,
the soul-missle has self-destructed.
We are children of detonation,
the demolished remnants cleared away
to make room for something new.
This could not be prevented.
Souls twist on the noose.
Soft rain descends and
the smell of death pervades.
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 7:16 PM UTC
By; Cedric McClester
There goes another missle
In the North Korean sky
Which he dismisses summarily
But he hasn’t told us why
All we hear from him
Is how much he loves the guy
The fact he is being played
Is something that he’ll deny
He talks about the nice letters
That his lover writes
‘Cuz he knows how to bait the hook
And also what excites
A dotard like his lover
Whom he envisions in tights
While he luls him to sleep
On those restless nights
South Korea and Japan
Understandably have concern
Because they know that the doltard
Is the type that will not learn
His hand is on a hot stove
But they'll probably get burned
Once his lover reveals himself
And the table has finally turned
He hasn’t gone ballistic
As far as the doltard knows
But that’s not necessarily
What our intelligence shows
But he regularly ignores them
So we’ll have to take the blow
Perhaps he could think more clearly
Without ******* up his nose
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 2:51 AM UTC