"policed" poems
And I will make sure that if anything were to happen,
It would do little to affect you.
It's not everyday
You find a goose that lays eggs
With speckled jewels and golden flakes
The world is full of incongruity
And there's no doubt about the certainty
That something bad may happen,
And we don't want that, do we?
So listen carefully.
The world is a giant carboniferous spicule
Hanging in a nest of hydroxic gas and particulae
Spinning within the gaps of a blackened dome
Of limitless space and out of control
There is no telling what way it will go
There is no prediction that has fortold
Any number of moments in this tumbling slumber
Between the darkest hell and the further horizon
I so deftly advise you with all certification
To please place your bets and fly by echolocation
Your eyes will mislead, your ears will displease
And there is no way we can refund divine warranties
This machinery
has a half life of quarks
And energies that vibrate into other orbits
Trajectories
Retaining the spin and informative piece
Of that golden goose let loose amongst the canopy
Of dark,
off into neverland, straight on
Till new morning,
Beyond the stars
So please good sir don't migrate away from me
I have so much to give and such pain I have seen
Those that fatten their goose with **** till it quacks,
Those ravenous souls who ate their gift for a snack,
And when life finally cuts them down to their last,
They will howl and yowl and pray that goose back.
This is a game,
Have a good little laugh
Don't waste your time or your money
On a daffy Aflack
Policy that keeps you policed to the earth,
No way to fly,
Stuck in the dirt.
That is no way to live in the dream,
That is no way to let death trickle in
So please, pretty please, make sure you have coverages
And a couple extra dollars in the pocket of those jeans
Wander freely, you great big atomic bomb, you.
Do catastrophic damages and I'll pay your dues.
Ride the road coast to coast,
Fly a bird 'round the world,
Take a truck till you're home,
Find a love you can trust.
Find a place where your egg
And your legs seek nowhere else
Lay down those roots,
It's Eden or bust.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC
Belonging to no masters
Bowing to no shiny idol
Formed as crashing waves
Tsunami and the tidal
Freeing enslaved minds
Requiring no police
From simplistic limerick
To powerful treatise
Capable to be inclusive
of every type of mind
From hideously critical
To the wise and kind
Between sanity - insanity
The line delightfully blurs
A home for loony writers
Saboteurs and connoisseurs
Ignore at poetry's peril
This most mediocre rhyme
The more that verse is policed
The less that it will chime
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
People just don’t get it do they?
PolitiX -
There are no good:
-politics
-politicians
-politicos
-policy
-polices
There is only DISTRACT and TAKE!
If it is bad, fake It good
if its fake, fake it real
if it’s obvious make it someone else’s fault
manipulate details and statistics too
lead the questions,
get the right answers for you
Mass Programmng Media
secret Not Saying Anything service
hide behind our own goods
Freedom these days is all about -
Policing
And the illusion you are in
Control
Politics by its very nature can only exist by divide
the greater the divide
the easier to fraction
easier to fraction
eaier to incite aggression and violence
the resulting fear makes us seek peace
we legislate our freedom away putting hope in lies
the greater the distraction,
the easier the take
Peace is an illusion,
a God-like ideal
A frightened little bird hiding in the bough of a tree
barely out for a second
starving to death
confused
and lonely
because the fear of fear is so great
Political Peace is submission and oppression while convincing you
that its in your best interests not to resist or persist.
You are then provided with a guilded cage
distracted by how different the cage is next to you
or the fence that divides you but you are safe?
All policed by consent
the unmerry road to oppression
begins and ends with distraction and take
all selling illusions of peace and happiness
while selling you out
And YOU are too distracted to notice
YOU are killing your family and neighbors
One fear
One prejudice
One judgement
at a time...
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
The devil’s in the details,
Selfish souls for retail
God doesn’t answer prayers
He only answers emails
A demonic description
Of a self destructive demolition
Concentration controlled
By a conspiracy driven coalition
Cowards by the hour
Sending soldiers on dummy missions
While the eyes of desperate housewives
Are glued to their televisions
Poisoned....
Impoverished....
Imprisoned....
Policed....
Outcasts of society with no chance of release
Who’s the real thief?
The dead are pretending to be alive
A slim line between Sainthood and Satan
The New World Order
Disorder has arrived
Thanks for being patient…
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
I'm finding myself with writers block because all I seem to find inspiration in is the color of my skin
Or being black to be exact
Or what it's like to be young and African American and in this great country
I become frustrated that this is what I write about it
this is what I feel the need to speak on
that this is what my soul is finding refuge to release
Sometimes I think I'm getting repetitive but I'm realizing if young unjust black deaths didn't happen so often maybe I wouldn't have to write about them
maybe if my young unarmed black brothers weren't murdered in vain
maybe if I heard black praise more than blacks blazed
maybe if less mothers didn't have to to bury their sons
Then and only maybe then would I be able to write about something different, maybe then would I sleep at night, but probably not
Because whether racism is forward or passive it's still closer than you think
the amount of melanin in my skin is slim but it still runs deep
and because I'm mixed people like to think I'm being over dramatic or I'm making it up because
"I'm only half black so why would I get any back lash"
but it's not about that
full or half
To white people I'm still black
And to some people it's alarming that I have a dad
Yellow or brown
African blood still runs through my veins, I feel my queens weep
when the white girl in the suburban locks her doors when I cross the street
when black men say they would never date a black woman because she is loud and indiscreet
when four black boys in a Cobalt going the speed limit are pulled over and policed
one time I overheard someone say "it's time to get over slavery I mean I would own one too for what it's worth"
This **** is the reason why I lose sleep
like every night this week
sometimes I feel my queens' tears down my cheek
she screams
as she is being penetrated by the patrol as her husband and children see
"just so you know whose in charge" he whispers as she weeps
and we should "get over it"
whipped and ***** beaten and dehumanized
3 centuries and they act like it was 3 days
And they like to say that so much has changed
just because we're not in chains
Yet we're restricted or ridiculed politically, socially and economically
we are
Emmet Till still
On our road to progression
A brown president and we are still considered an infection
We are still the threat
And they have disregarded their debt
This is the blissful ignorance I live with
And the growing terror my words attempt to change
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
this society of ours is so gargantuan,
policed by the daylight we hold at night for ransom,
Like a Jesus or a black Aphrodites,
I'll be your daddy if you let me call you my mommy,
give me your milk, the nectar that forms at your eyelids
We can go out in public on a weeknight Ireland,
I won't drink, but I'll wrestle every penny you
throw into each fountain, unless each wish
you make puts us together in California. At 55º it's as
cold as it seems your heart is, you whisper the omissions
of lies over mute. Every silver trinket on this charmers'
bracelet abused. Be the freeway and I'll be the car, drive around my circles, and we can drive the map of the Hollywood Stars. This circus- paddy-wagon, sewer stardom, I've always been the over-roasted beans from your local Starbucks. I grew up to grow up, I got up to throw up, I sought you to show up, and give you this leigh garland. Egyptian or pitiful, critical mister 'are not.' My words were worthless and wounded by such ardor of this perfervid martyr. Enveloped by threading the eye of this tempestuous hourglass, just another sign of being extremely intolerable to the minutia, the worried, and nervous curse of being so human and the fear of being, quite heart broke.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
In animal death, a breath of relief
Tunnelling through the airways for one last
Sigh of non-defeat, of exaltation and release
Not to be, or better, to be free of mortality
Made immortal with passing life
Taking strife by the neck and repeating
I am no longer your victim
In animal death, a universal strength
Where no obstacles lay before happiness
And instincts are not policed
Your fanciful dreams of green treats, fulfilled
And failing kidneys can rot as they please
Please, shed only a handful of tears
On the graves of decomposing beasts
Released from the shackle of domestication,
For the ones that suffer are surely the living.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
I know when I've reached my speaking cap,
because you pull faces, sometimes shush me,
complain that I over-explain.
I tell you about how little I speak to everyone else,
in hopes that you'd cherish the words I share
with you alone, but it's futile.
So I silence myself in efforts to quell your disdain,
and refrain from speaking again.
"That's too dramatic," you say.
"It's one extreme to another, learn balance," you say.
My speech is policed, but you "only teach."
Brevity is the soul, you say.
Training me to avoid embarrassment,
obtain eloquence,
I should be thankful
that you, who know not to express your feelings
without another's pre-existence,
are patient enough with my chatter
to suggest that I truncate and omit better.
Reduce the noise and volume on this amplifier.
If I were a **** you'd fine tune me
until you heard nothing at all.
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
One nation under assault,
one nation under pressure,
one nation claiming greatness against
an outdated measure.
With liberty and justice stockpiled commodities
and legions of disgruntled youth
left to deal with the atrocities.
One nation under-loved
One nation over-policed
One nation claiming Jesus
wearing the tell-tale mark of the beast.
With hate in the left hand, and hate in the right,
and both hands balled up like we're dying to fight.
A New Day, they call this perpetual night
This suffocating darkness that chokes out the light
And EVERYBODY THINKS THAT THEIR SIDE IS RIGHT.
One nation underwhelmed by the policies they chose
One hypocrisy of a democracy, calling their own stink a rose
One thing after another, no wonder the kids are cynics now,
thinking "You CAN'T make it better, WE don't know how."
Love is lost in the struggle between apathy and hate
America, the beautiful. America, the great.
America, the fractured paragon,
We cling to ghosts of a changing time
We've fallen for the distractions, and
our pedestal is too high to climb.
Oh brothers, oh sisters, what else can we do?
If you'll look out for me, and I look out for you,
just a ripple in this pool of ****
may clear the waters, just a bit.
But as long as there are white votes
black votes
Latino votes
left votes
right votes
there'll be no vote of confidence
in the future of these divided states.
We'll rip ourselves apart,
tear out our own heart
waving our flags the whole time
and claiming no blame for the divide.
God Bless America,
and do it quick.
All sides of this society
are dying or sick.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
Would life to some be for others deceased
The greed of man is the Devil in awe
Open and eager to satiate the beast
Allied; redundant rebels fast become feast
A thriving surmise from a snarling abhor
Would life to some be for others deceased
Stiff media outlets quietly policed
Less of a ***** more of a *****
Open and eager to satiate the beast
Dynamic complex entity, undefined common thread in the East
Internal displacement clashes with border decor
Would life to some be for others deceased
Bray Lampwick; Bray! Add volume to the doom release
Crooked anticipation of the determinate straw
Open and eager to satiate the beast
If the potent and equipped old grip is continually greased
Our trades will deduce the national core
Would life to some be for others deceased
Open and eager to satiate the beast
Craig Steele
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 6:53 AM UTC
Hidden in the shadows of the trees
The crickets soft consistent swoon
It's gentle and floats with the breeze
It's only the moon and me
The humid July air
Adds yet another "X" in your mind
How many more days of sweat dripped hair?
How long 'til my sordid winter's love affair?
Until I am released from the guilt
Of being inside "wasting" my day
A policed perception's tilt
When it's cold you all feel this way
Never wanting to see light
Dreading weather's daily plight
The only difference you from I
Is the cold I feel in mid-July
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
Dark days just got darker
The future now bleaker
Our rights soon weaker
Temperatures up
Sea levels rise with
Judicial surprises:
Rights curtailed
Guns for sale
Executive privilege
Press repressed
Marches now riots
Meaner tweets
Free speech costs
Groups targeted
Families disbanded
Profiling preferred
Embryos policed
Emigration in order?
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
There is a hit and run in my mind
And the police are too preoccupied with their phalluses
To even notice.
A lonely man, befuddled by the blunt object that hit him from behind, fades away into nothing while his crimson blood mixes with the juice of blueberries he had just bought. The pavement turns purple, and for just a split second the scene turns from tragic to comic.
The State of Mind is policed by the principles of democracy. The system is simple: The Cerebellum is the parliament, all my cognitive skills are the representatives, and the body of voters is constituted by whichever arbitrary thoughts that enter my head that day. But in reality my mind is goverened, only by the singularity of chaos. The voters don't know, but the Cerebellum knows. The representatives will never know for sure, but there is a slight tint of discontent, gnawing away, every day, at their thoughts, while they drink their coffee and type endlessly on typewriters, even though computers have been around for a quarter of a century.
You see, chaos is regressive and progressive simoultaneously. Chaos is when time unleashes logic. The future reprecussions of a chaotic event may be necessary, inevitable and perhaps even for the good of humakind and the larger universe, but the passage between vain violence, anarchy, destruction; and the ultimate moral redemption of the event; the moment where we comprehend the possible benevolence of past horrors. Chaos is logic when time is suspended.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
so..like what we discussed the other day
'to feel so infect-able'
i mean, cool concept and all but
you said you get it and-and that's how i feel
you know ; all of the time
... like my brain is open and unprotected
floods of **** other guys say or **** i read online
stuff doesn't even make sense
they're just chewing on a mouthful of teeth
and it imbeds
gets right in the jelly and sticks around
and it has nothing to do with anything
but i'll spend the day with my mood crumpled
about some nasty 'piece of shit' directors
behaviour on a film set ... when ...you know
it's not even a film i'm interested in seeing
and-and there's so much **** right at our front door
we could help with that
but.. it's this irrelevant stuff
that's what i'm occupied with
am i just that vulnerable ? i'm an adult..
i should function without this damage
... get back to me as soon as you can ; i'm freaking man !…..
you know what ?
this is what's important and this is why we talk
friends .. in the real world .. you know such as it is
...left mucking stale turns before dawning a birth
pleasing as drawing in a vital breath or something...
...i just.. i just want it back
re-sleeve me
i miss the world
why did it leave me behind ? remind me
i looked in on it and there's no **** hotel in here
no airport lounge / midnite swimming pool /
abandoned zoo / empty theatre
no hollow feeds of subway tunnels
no void on anything
where's my basic program ?
not even a grid of human planted fir trees
or a giants causeway
or some cellular honeycomb
or some mad carpet design
i lost the pattern tap
i'm off the leash man
it's all a mess
a disarray
organic chaos
a foreign something
that doesn't want me to connect
i want to live like i’m part of the solution
but each day in struggle
it seems i'm increasingly an aspect of the problem
i need to be reigned in
and reassigned a post policed
police me i croon for policing
i am untrustworthy
an emulsion of self deception
(what does that even mean ?)
spinning turns in quick fix habits
i look at these hands
and if I could dream these hands
they’d be magicians of value
get back to me man ! i miss yupping with you
this is the important stuff
- message ends
Jun 14, 2024
Jun 14, 2024 at 2:12 PM UTC
An x-ray view of what was before while looking for the after now
Like a resurrection and afterlife on some biblical prophecy
Be aware on the conscious for its under attack by malware
soon to fully develop into a spyware
Your mental is like your software
Operating system needs an upgrade
This virus just gave it a reboot
With simple task manager for putting on a mask
Betterment of the self is a daily update
Because the past is what you have lived and it all crashed
But we need to understand that our attention on affection is being hacked
Being scanned everyday as we usher into the era of the cyborg
Some lifestyles we need to abort
Social interaction is digitalized
friends are stranger on social media
Here was the birth of social distancing
industrialization sign in globalization to confinement
Can’t we see the danger!?, people have become invisible
Let put aside propaganda its not in this piece’s agenda
In an atmosphere filled with uncertainty
dwells fear of change with a wave of intolerance
A dominant experience at the moment is sense of grief
notion of sadness, despair, helplessness, powerlessness and anger
Fragment of blame, echo chambers of many
Negative escalation of human degradation
Issue is on face mask as the color of the skin
Being policed by leaders with empty promises
It feels like the pandemic took a 360 degrees turn
to make it a worldwide web
In some ways it has come full circle
back to localization, national budget and personal introspect
Everyone is loading their data
refresh the mind on the page
what does history show
Before the hand shakes, people kissed to greet
Here we tap our feet
Gathering set the tone of joy
Togetherness was a remedy now in a memory
We just have to stick as family
unfamiliar at a point of acceptance becomes familiar
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 2:53 AM UTC
We all deserve to walk in the dark if we wish.
We all deserve to get home safe.
We all deserve to be policed by kind hearts.
We are all Sarah.
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 3:53 PM UTC
One nation under assault,
one nation under pressure,
one nation claiming greatness against
an outdated measure.
With liberty and justice stockpiled commodities
and legions of disgruntled youth
left to deal with the atrocities.
One nation under-loved
One nation over-policed
One nation claiming Jesus
wearing the tell-tale mark of the beast.
With hate in the left hand, and hate in the right,
and both hands balled up like we're dying to fight.
A New Day, they call this perpetual night
This suffocating darkness that chokes out the light
And EVERYBODY THINKS THAT THEIR SIDE IS RIGHT.
One nation underwhelmed by the policies they chose
One hypocrisy of a democracy, calling their own stink a rose
One thing after another, no wonder the kids are cynics now,
thinking "You CAN'T make it better, WE don't know how."
Love is lost in the struggle between apathy and hate
America, the beautiful. America, the great.
America, the fractured paragon,
We cling to ghosts of a changing time
We've fallen for the distractions, and
our pedestal is too high to climb.
Oh brothers, oh sisters, what else can we do?
If you'll look out for me, and I look out for you,
just a ripple in this pool of ****
may clear the waters, just a bit.
But as long as there are white votes
black votes
Latino votes
left votes
right votes
there'll be no vote of confidence
in the future of these divided states.
We'll rip ourselves apart,
tear out our own heart
waving our flags the whole time
and claiming no blame for the divide.
God Bless America,
and do it quick.
All sides of this society
are dying or sick.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 7:53 PM UTC
One nation under assault,
one nation under pressure,
one nation claiming greatness against
an outdated measure.
With liberty and justice stockpiled commodities
and legions of disgruntled youth
left to deal with the atrocities.
One nation under-loved
One nation over-policed
One nation claiming Jesus
wearing the tell-tale mark of the beast.
With hate in the left hand, and hate in the right,
and both hands balled up like we're dying to fight.
A New Day, they call this perpetual night
This suffocating darkness that chokes out the light
And EVERYBODY THINKS THAT THEIR SIDE IS RIGHT.
One nation underwhelmed by the policies they chose
One hypocrisy of a democracy, calling their own stink a rose
One thing after another, no wonder the kids are cynics now,
thinking "You CAN'T make it better, WE don't know how."
Love is lost in the struggle between apathy and hate
America, the beautiful. America, the great.
America, the fractured paragon,
We cling to ghosts of a changing time
We've fallen for the distractions, and
our pedestal is too high to climb.
Oh brothers, oh sisters, what else can we do?
If you'll look out for me, and I look out for you,
just a ripple in this pool of ****
may clear the waters, just a bit.
But as long as there are white votes
black votes
Latino votes
left votes
right votes
there'll be no vote of confidence
in the future of these divided states.
We'll rip ourselves apart,
tear out our own heart
waving our flags the whole time
and claiming no blame for the divide.
God Bless America,
and do it quick.
All sides of this society
are dying or sick.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 3:03 AM UTC
We are the Black Plague
Let us infect you!
We are what you made
The blame rests on you
We are an Atom Bomb
Watch us explode!
We are the bullets in your gun
Watch us unload
We are everything, we are everywhere
We feel this life set for us is unfair
We want comfort, we want release
We do not want to be policed
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 3:19 PM UTC
Maybe if families
Policed each
Other
All of the stupid ****
That happens
Would happen
Less
Friends and family that I love
Twisted and prodded
Pulled
In every direction
By fools with reproductive organs
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
There’s something about the black woman in I.
There’s something about the Black woman in I that I can’t figure out.
And there was a time where I spent my days basking in this not knowing situation.
A time when I blamed the men and women around me—
The people who couldn’t see what I wanted them to see but…
How would they see what I can’t?
I kept crying about how disrespectful ****** were to me,
How the women around me didn’t understand the feeling of not feeling enough,
How I blamed myself for everything that was happening because of me.
And yes,
If it was because of me,
Then I am at fault
And should blame myself for it.
But the picture is bigger than that.
It’s tougher than that.
It’s darker than that.
A few years later,
There’s still something about the Black woman in I that I can’t figure out.
Always complacent.
Always trying to be soft after a life of being the hardest rock.
Always trying to be mellow jazz when I was the heaviest metal.
Always trying to be touched like a piano,
But I kept on being the drums.
I’m still my own weakness, you know?
Now I’m not lying to anyone—
I’m just lying to myself.
I walk in this made-up power that I’m supposed to have,
And I built a whole bridge out of it… but it always trembles.
“You’re so beautiful for being a Black woman.”
It trembles.
“Oh, you’re so well-spoken for coming from the hood!”
It trembles.
“Are you sure you didn’t have any help making this?”
It trembles.
“You’ll never be like her.”
And it trembles.
Still, I keep walking over that bridge because—
I need to fake it until I make it, right?
I’m so tired of faking it.
I’m so tired of feeling this way.
I’m tired of being policed over my blackness,
Over my hair and my body,
Over my womanhood and my mind,
Over my sad little soul.
Still, I keep going through it,
In the hopes that I find what I want to find in the end.
“Oh, what do you want to find?”
…
Oh, dear heart.
We were supposed to walk on lilies and green grass.
I’m sorry that we can’t.
Eight years later,
There’s something about the black woman in I that I still can’t figure out.
And just like before…
I never will.
Jun 22, 2025
Jun 22, 2025 at 11:07 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Islam is
The religion of peace
If you don’t believe me
Ask Abdul-Aziz
Or those down with ISIS
In the Middle East
Who chop off heads
Like savage beasts
Islam is
The religion of peace
So why is jihad
On the increase
All over the globe
North south west and east
Can someone explain it
In the very least
Islam is
The religion of peace
But the irony is
The violence
Doesn’t cease
In the places it’s practiced
It seems to increase
Maybe they need to be better policed
Islam is
The religion of peace
That’s what they tell us
I’m not adding yeast
But it’s hard to believe
The way they seem to feast
On violence and bloodshed
Which hasn’t decreased
Copyright © 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
Suns descend, Moons rise & the moment my chamber becomes dark I'm again trapped in this puzzling, and tormenting box.
My wrists hand cuffed and bound by my insecurities & questions I won't accept the answer to, unable to sleep at night I'm always policed by my own thoughts.
Statements that once seemed so true are interrogated by my lack of trust & begin to sweat drops of lies and betrayal.
My goals are set in the horizon of a seemingly endless hallway and I find myself kneeling, sheltering my ears from the terrorising sounds of people hoping for me to fail.
A raging tycoon sweeps through my mental hamlet & I always just want you to hear the storm, for you to know your own storms are not uncommon, that you can trust me, or you should.
But you don't care to listen to me let alone trust me enough to let me comfort you with your own aches and Demons whisper me to me "you're unworthy, for her you're just no good."
I would love to go to sleep imagining perfection, A fairytale world where my goals aren't far away, & we have conversations where trust and comfort is abundant to where there aren't any problems to be relevant.
But sadly, my mind doesn't operate that way. Doubts in my mind tell me I'm not good enough, I'm not close enough, doubts enforced by my own logic & I seem doomed to serve a life sentence in a dungeon composed of my own thoughts, a prisoner of my own intelligence.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC