"pillory" poems
These are not, "possibilities,"
decisions are already made.
You do not live in a democracy.
War is coming; Iran and Syria.
Nuclear Supremacy is not an,
"ideal," or notion, it is a fact.
They are stating a fact.
Not opinion, -they intend to do it.
I used To think that if you readE,
read enough, studied, you'D see?
Brighter minds would stop it!
"Fool;" those minds are planning it!
Policy Papers are not policy at all,
they are cushions, a softening pillory.
Designed to lay a foundation.
Where you play sucker for war.
N.W.A
-New World Apocalypse-
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
Just Like A Woman
You focus on the act,
The ridiculous derring-do,
Laughing at me
Cause I chased away
In my rumpled ******
The woodpecker that convulsed
Our house at 5:00 AM,
With a decorative pillow.
Focus on the results, says the
Results-oriented man.
Has Woody ever returned?
No and his fate is still unknown,
He may fly forever neath our trees,
But now he knows to stay away
From me and the risk of my pillowy pillory!
P.S. I may (or may not)
Choose to disclose
That upon my return
The house still shook,
From someone's uproarious, convulsed
Laughing at a city boys country heroics.
10:30am
June29 2013
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
Untitled for none is deserved.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/02/world/asia/pakistani-militants-gun-down-7-aid-workers.html?hp
Bended knees self-sanctify bloodied ground,
sneering, silent thunder slaps my face,
Those Who Dare Call Themselves Gods,
chuckling at all they have wrought,
murderous, heinous, hateful.
Who is the reprehensible abomination,
us or them,
and their devoted servants
who **** "freely" in their name?
Ennobling man with faculty infinite,
then tempting/torturing, obstacling him
from its fullest usage, lest we recognize,
the imperfection of their sloppy design.
If free will is a gift,
I freely regift it back to them.
Some venerate Mother,
after killing their wives and daughters and
mothers,
laughing about it in
the whorehouses of their souls
What a piece of work are these Gods!
If man is the quintessence of the Gods,
their last, best creation before resting,
are they themselves not corrupted?
So called Gods,
pillory the New York City morn dawn,
a pallor hard-grey nothingness.
a bitter kiss, from things only they control,
a greeting card from on high,
happy new year wishes from
Newtown, Delhi, Peshawar,
and Jerusalem.
At last, I comprehend,
why we minioned millions
celebrate this day with drunken reverie.
---
Jan. 1, 2013
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
To make America great again
Presupposes it isn’t when
Suggesting it’s not could offend
Those who think it is (amen!)
They pillory Hillary though her goal
Is only to make America whole
It’s fragmented now I’ve been told
As ever increasingly hearts are cold
Though some might think it’s a tad rad
To say America’s not doing that bad
Let’s count our blessing and be glad
That we have the President that we have
He single handedly brought us back
From a damaged economy that’s a fact
Although he is constantly under attack
That’s probably due to him being black
How can greatness come from a man
Who walks around with a sprayed on tan
And says he can do what only God can
Without even having to hatch a plan
To lots of people he makes perfect sense
But it’s usually at their intellect’s expense
Although it will all come out in the rinse
Some of ‘em seem to be so intense
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
ashamed, i am:
ashamed alone.
without other bricks,
i can build no home
immaculately guilt-free is the bonded group.
never singular, always plural,
that's the definition of the group.
distinction as a him, a her,
not them
makes me anxiously wrought
with the selfish thought
of a word not licensed, spoken
ashamed, i am
because 'i' is not only first person,
but singular:
a dreaded, useless version
of human in humanity
Apr 13, 2011
Apr 13, 2011 at 8:03 PM UTC
What the **** is Cuck?
It’s a brand new ***** word
If you’ve been called a cuck
You should know that you’ve been slurred
You may have come across it
While browsing the Interweb
And seen it used insultingly
When describing a Bush called Jeb
It’s short for the old word Cuckhold
But given a new spin
It’s used to insult someone who’s committed
the Political Correctness sin.
If I may be declarative,
The word is simply horrible,
Be ye liberal or conservative
I’d say it’s quite deplorable
The Donald is no cuck, for sure
When he utters dog whistles like this -
If he says “blood comes out of her ‘whatever’”
The true meaning you just can’t miss
Or when he said the Second Amendment People
Might take care of our dear Hillary
Of whom he impugned would eliminate guns
And promised that he would pillory
Apologies are for sissies
Don’t wait for a pivot or turn
Was it voter suppression that rigged the election?
One day, we may learn
Cuck is the word of the day
Like some chirp made by Pepe the Frog
A new epithet from the far alt-right
Who follow our new demagogue
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
time has come for dear Hillary
to exit the political stage
her past performances
haven't been well scripted or sage
Americans won't mind at all
if she stays at home with philandering Bill
so she can keep his ever wandering eye
nice and still
Washington needs a true
star contender for a Prez
Hillary is too old to be wearing
the chief's influential fez
most unsuccessful was
her candidature in 2008
Democrats didn't want her
as their first mate
cameo appearances seem to be
more fitting for Hillary
so the American media can give her
a jolly good pillory
the oval office needs no more
corruption lying or deceit
obviating Hillary from the scene
shall be ever so neat
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
i summon and conquer your dreammind
with ghosts of aborted foetuses
and we rampage through the corridors
of your indoctrinations.
knock on the doors and you answer
with your deadmind ex nihilo,
manifestations of deeper fetishes,
like the one where you
want to fuckkids and have that power
because you have nothing.
your life is nothing but a bookend
waiting to fall off the shelf.
n u drag ur naked body thru the blood n the glory of a fight that still has some losing left in it. u lick away ur bruzes n sleep in catatonia coz ur mind fuckedya. had enough but it was pillory n stocks n u swim on the back of a nightterror. still u drag that useless body thru gravel n rocks n icecold water, washing off the dust n the silt n the beggared belief of the siren call of a dream u had when u was young but now its gone n ur left grasping at the pebble of a memory that was once a mighty boulder but time has weathered m worn its face n peeled away all the best parts until now it is smooth n useless n small, an insignificant little morselpiece of what it once was, and u turn it round in ur hand n bury it in the silt.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
*Dark pillory lips
Deep mournful eyes— fires fly
Quick strands of red hair*
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Dark, pillory lips,
Deep mournful eyes— fires fly,
Quick strands of red hair.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
I love America
But sometimes I hate the U.S.A.
How do you spin,
Blocking airways?
Two party system;Our United States,
Couldn’t give better delegates?
And I despise all of the
Idol Worship,
Trickle-down culture,
Your distractions, weapons. Change;
not an endless hunt for newer things.
When Patriotism Trumps
Common Sense,
1776,
And we Masquerade our Liberty
Confined in an invisible pillory,
And you accrue,
While we make do,
At this point, if you are asking me,
Then yes, I would prefer shared misery
To your “equal opportunity.”
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 7:12 AM UTC
Most days it's manageable
Especially now that The Silence
Has come to a tentative close.
But just as every addict knows,
once your highs get higher
Your lows get lower.
Days like today
And nights like last night
Remind me what it's like at the bottom,
What it's like after you've fallen.
Hope,
That glowing beam that some cling to
Is instead my punishment,
A pillory I'm chained to
Locked in
Keeping me in the same place,
Hoping.
Some days are more manageable than others.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Dark, pillory lips,
Deep mournful eyes— fires fly,
Quick strands of red hair.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
On a cotton-pyrethrum-rubber-sisal-canes plantations
In a coal, copper, iron, ores mines excavations
*** on hand, basket on back, metal bowl on head
Sun burning high as hell’s brutal blazes
Snow falling furiously as Vikings vitriol violence
Coal furnaces fuming as sulfurous fiery flames
Bent backs, bare butts, naked feet
White snow-balls quick picks
‘Niglets’ tagged besides or behind their parents spent backs
Bruised fingers, blistered hands, bleeding arms-palms
Boulder rocks rolls, bronze bowls lifts
Each sad with each, low grumbles
For master behind a beast is in watch
His scourging whip eager to swoosh
At any slight rubber swing switch
And leave a dear wound pain sorrowful only to oneself
Brothers sorrowful, tears rolls down
Their torn cheeks and chins
As thorns thrusts severe ****** his fingers
Swift he leaks sweet the crimson squirt before on fur-fluffs spills-
The white ***** is to be as pure as its breeds brands *****
And on he urges the pounding pains on
Brother damaged shoulders wracks
Tired feet him lags the long rugged wound up the mines holes
Sisters sad sobs, grimaces her faces
As thistles prickles her pretty arms-palms
Teary she withholds her agonies
The master is not supposed to see tears or tires
And on she begs her aches
For in the evening the mercy
Will be at the scales tilt
Not much the ****** and pains endured
Child on a pillory is crucified
And mum he watches with bitterness his helpless father
And big brothers molested-mistreated-mutilated hopelessly
Tied on trialing poles pain pulling his mangled muscles
Silent in pain she grieves irately her haplessly mother
And small sisters routinely ***** helplessly
Master is a monster who freely picks and haves who he wants
But as necessity knows no law!
Sufferings enough begins to bottle
Slowly struggles begins to battle
In ****** farms revolutions starts to swell
******* in noose and nooks dare their scares
Till liberty little returns ending
Barbaric brutality of spread slavery
And Negroes became a bit legal.....
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
Dark, pillory lips,
Deep mournful eyes— fires fly,
Quick strands of red hair.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
I’ll start again from the first footprints, the first nail scratches.
Sand-hewn swirls surrounded by spume.
On high, winged things pillory the truth.
Would that a wish rinsed human nature,
and the body of clay emitted bars of gold of devotional gifts
My short skirt hides my groin, snow-white and plump
with fine pink folds, soft and damp, with a dripping light
The soles’ throbbing beats time, restless beat
by pacing to and fro along the pavement.
Let us all together pitch into the waking sound,
each one a dead drunk Lazarus
On the table a slice of bread cut by an unknown hand,
and a jug of water standing in motion
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 6:44 AM UTC
"Woman"
Where amidst the storm,
You decided to stoop.
For what gold and beef,
You stoop near the pillory.
Why Amidst the scar of hounds,
You decided not to draw sword,
And bleed from beneath and within.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
If you’re trying to figure out
What it’s all about?
Money! there’s no doubt
Flexing muscle and their clout
With the insults that they shout
Without a platform they can tout
They just go the cheap seat route
Then pontificate and pout
See they love to pillory
Anyone named Hillary
With accusations, as we see
That may or may not be
Yelling she’s not trustworthy
As they bring up Bengazi
Or emails we didn’t see
Making them the poison tree
And then once they get elected
Ain’t it just as we suspected
It’s so easily detected
The people’s needs just get neglected
Because our votes are not protected
By the ones who we selected
Makes us wonder why we checked it
See their actions don’t reflect it
Although it’s a bitter pill
It’s like Ceeil B. deMille
Cast them in a movie - still
They won’t do the people’s will
And by now we’ve had our fill
They can never fit the bill
Because they’re run of the mill
And that is why they make us ill
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 7:12 AM UTC