"primaries" poems
In English,
we’re learning about
Winston and Julia
in 1984, but
it’s 2017
all I want to study is
you.
I want to study less
about the
control and freedom
Big Brother has
and more about
the calculation of your
moves.
I want to study the way
your knuckles could be an
infant’s home, small
hands reaching out
longing for you
or the way the veins in
your arm makes abstract art,
beautiful enough to be showcased
in any gallery.
I understand now why they say
“as pretty as a painting.” Because
you’re as timeless and
breathtaking as
Mona Lisa.
And your blue iris's,
swirl with dark and light
tones with a slight
a golden glint,
I could stare into them for longer
than any
Starry Night.
Maybe,
I’m just better suited to an art class.
I want to learn the primaries
so I can swirl them all together and
get your dark brown hair.
I want to add the most expensive
white, so I can paint the
faint freckles on your nose and
I want to mix blue and red adding water
until the colour is a perfect match
for the faintest birthmark
on your shoulder.
Instead of the History of Russia,
I want to learn the History
of you.
I want to learn what makes you smile
and what makes you cry.
I want to study you,
I use each brush stroke to
perfect your skin,
each pen writes down
notes until
I have a whole book
full of each heartbreak,
so I can learn a lesson
in you.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 8:04 AM UTC
**Mauve is my favorite Color
A sister to Burgundy,
dusty Rose, soft Purple hues..
Love variations of Creams,
buttery Golden Yellows,
Blues, Teals, Pinks and Crimson
Not so much..the Primaries.
So very saturated and bright,
What captives my attention
is the endless, sumptuous possibilities
blending of spectrums and
hues providing me the most delight
Huge fan of Black...
A non-color
the definitive definition defining
lack of all Color.
Which is actually a dichotomy...
As to create black is to chose a base tone
Then blending a series of other Colors
So that every black
The exception being formulations
becomes a variation of a theme..
The debate continues,
If Black is truly the definition
of lack there of, therefore not deserving the title
of being a Color, where does that leave those that insist that Black is their's (favorite)?
Hmmm, maybe Black is my favorite Color too...
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
The rich textures of the city
Dark tree shadows and the red brick rust
The bleak primaries of Venice
The sun sparked high contrast to the sidewalk grey
I was faded like the snow on the mountains,
A daily view on a clear day
I was not as high as the clouds
They were invisible as I floated away
Away, away, away,.
Everything was illuminated in the flashbulb of the disco ball
Later that night,
All alone and all complete
With the sound of utter tyrant,
Beating through my brains
Proving the physics of sound waves.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
I don't trust Hillary Clinton because of the allegations that she's facing.
A future with her as President is something I would have a difficult time embracing.
Bernie Sanders is the Presidential candidate for me.
I've contributed to him and voted for him in the primaries.
Many years ago Sanders opposed segregation.
That was awesome and deserved celebration.
Congress passed Sanders' first piece of legislation for the National Program of Cancer Registries.
All 50 states now run registries to help cancer researchers gain important insight because of the effort of Bernie.
He was re-elected to serve eight terms as a Congressman by the people in Vermont.
Bernie Sanders has integrity and that is the kind of President that I want.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
I remember the lights going off in the brains of young poets.
Deep in the dank streets of New York or Columbia college.
When the blues and twos would come and round up
The beatniks snapping to the howl of a homosexual mind.
When the generational attitudes of those too old to know,
Control the ****** acts of “violence”, or
The deepening scars of our philosophies.
When the urbanization of historical prowess leads to
Gentrified gypsies of the diamond deserts and endless skyways
When the great in the country isn’t good enough
For the red hats and spray tanned millionaires.
When the stocks of corporate dragons burn down
The attempts of upstart knights and online kingdoms.
When the politicians of old become the scapegoats
For the ironically gerontocratic few.
When the female few who dared couldn’t find their lost primaries
Or control the lifeblood leaking out of the Strait of Hormuz.
When the powerful and powerless fought in-between
The dejected and all too often ignored.
When the powered halogen lights flooded prison yards of
Wrongly convicted and murderously in need of help.
When the San Francisco clubs lit up with muzzle flash
And the dancers lay weeping in their blood.
When the schools became places to duck and cover
Or learn to trip a friend when running from a gun.
When parkland high became a manufacturing ground
For casings, tears, and candlelight vigils.
When the American dream came combo packaged
And supersized with obesity and unemployment.
When the education of the youth became about
The profit margin in a spreadsheet full of debt.
When the sun sets in the smoke filled horizons
And sleepless rest settles on the western front.
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
Do you like charisma?
Do you like stamina?
Perhaps with a certain degree of integrity
And a bit of leadership
If you find these qualities to be evident
Then I could very well become your next president
I know how to balance
From center-left to center-right
From radicalism to conventionalism
How to be the best non-established established candidate
I’d put your money to good use
As I use gilded words in golden speeches
I won’t lose my head
While dominating the headlines
And keep on smiling while
Barnstorming amidst the blunt and the bigots
Debating with the decadents and the destructive
I can easily pretend
So I could very well become the next president
So primarily, I need to win this primary
I’ll put my money where my mouth is
If you put your money in a SuperPAC
Donate to liberate this country!
Vote to promote the road of progress!
And in time, America will be mine
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Alone,
Above frozen hills and icy forest,
Finding definition through separation,
A dark island in a white sky,
Coming closer.
The eyes first- burning beads of life,
Searching for death and opportunity,
Blazing terrifying focus,
Coming closer.
The sound next- quiet rush of primaries,
Hiss of bone and feather slicing frozen air,
Whisper of the wolds wild goddess,
A knife blade.
Cutting holy air like I cut myself,
Soul slicing distinctions and definitions,
Of happiness and loneliness,
And he leaves me,
Alone.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
Remain calm.
Cleanse your soul like you are forgetting everything, falling down a waterfall....
Falling into a painting
500 years old
still vibrant primaries and darker inky blues and blacks,
swirling light, fabric moving such as not seen in this world.
One day we went outside into the forest. It was dark, the clouds were like iron smoke but then the moon came up, the nighttime sun and filled our hearts with wonder.
We lit a fire and began to sign as the night-wood creatures joined in.
Dancing turned into Ecstasy as our movements became wild, shouting and becoming filled with the presence.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
I know time has kept on and taken a step.
The moon is frozen in the night sky because the sun hasn't come yet.
The sweet parts in life aren't always good if they just give you a bad sugar rush; as i walk on a cloud where the memory's residue rusts.
I can't see much pass the thickness of the dust.
The one that fills the air, and breathing is a must.
So i choke on the stars, while my chest erupts.
My chest is the treasure that will soon explode and bust.
Treasure of the Universe and makes the galaxies blush.
It helps the black-holes and time-warps' life to beat and pump.
It beats and pumps the heart of it all.
The heart is "Earth".
And "Earth" holds all the feeling.
Crust surface on soft core still needs peeling.
Black Jack dealer needs to start dealing.
Space lights always overcome the darkness, meaning ?
A light-year and a light-minute is distanced time that holds me together.
Meteors & comets seem to always affect the weather.
Questions revolve around me as i revolve around the answers.
My eyes interpret four primaries and companions with dancers. Even deeper is the center of mass which is a binary cancer.
July's brightness has me spontaneously on my toes.
It's fun to tell old stories as the future grows.
Im off to that land, so here's to the endurance in roads.
I can hear how it feels to be mixed in with the beautiful molds; of silvers & golds..
Loads & loads.
May 5, 2011
May 5, 2011 at 9:05 AM UTC
A protest vote?° What the hell?
It really makes no sense.
Young voters can protest, but
It's at their own expense.
A protest vote? Trump over Biden
To shake up the status quo?
That's like shooting oneself in the foot:
Not voting for Joe.
A protest vote? What exactly
Are they trying to prove?
That putting Trump in the White House again
Is an appropriate move?
A protest vote? They'd rather have
A con man and a fake--
A man who caters to Putin when
So much is at stake?
A protest vote? As though Trump has
THEIR interests at heart?
To vote in an egomaniac
Wouldn't be very smart.
A protest vote? They'll find out
If off to the right they swerve,
That come November they will get
The turmoil that they deserve.
-by Bob B (3-23-24)
°Based on reports of protest votes in the primaries
Mar 23, 2024
Mar 23, 2024 at 11:24 AM UTC
\_____________________\\\\___________
Pastels/interlude of spring
Rememories in pattern&gene
Soft-hues emulate the air breaking/defrosting/shedding from chilled atmospheric fling_ending
Warm-risal of color saturation
In tune-time for renewal plant life
Budding/blossoming/bussing into vibrant splashes all can hear with their eyes/feel & read on their skin
Proof of life in us flooding back in
Pastels/complimentary of spring
Inches away from primaries
Setting a balance/calming glee
Hue_ing effervescence
-HSH~
________________\__________________\\
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 5:32 PM UTC
how many times have I compared you to a wonderful piece of art?
your veins, your angles, your eyes, they all lead to your heart.
your face is worthy of a cathedral’s ceiling,
but I can’t compare it to what I’m feeling.
I scream to the heavens that they need to close the gate.
what’s the point of waiting in line when heaven is your touch, and it feels so great.
your eyes are the Monet that was never hung up.
the way they blend together from far away, but up close I get so strung up,
trying to figure out how they blend together,
browns and golds and greens and yellows, I give up, whatever.
your smile is my favorite Van Gogh,
how your dimples glisten and your teeth glow.
I love when your lips twitch at the sight of something that makes you happy,
it can make even my worst days feel a bit less ******
but there’s a bit of Frida Kahlo that you can’t contain
because in those Monet eyes of yours I also see pain.
and I hate when I see it but I also see your Sylvia Plath,
because when that smile disappears all I can see is wrath.
and after you laugh I hear your Emily Dickinson,
the silence that follows is your eternity prison.
but don’t get me wrong.
you aren’t just the primaries; red, yellow, and blue.
the gallery dedicated to you is long overdue.
because what I see in those eyes of yours
is that pain isn’t something you’ve yet to give in to.
and I know the world in itself is a huge piece of art.
but the only painting I’m looking at is you.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Their dilemma
Remains to be such
Where they seem determined
To stay out of touch
They knock immigration
A tad too much
And when it comes to women’s rights
They stay in dutch
To win their primaries
They evangelize
By quoting the Bible
As if we’re not wise
Cuz some of us go
For their ******* up lies
When the truth is
Right there before our eyes
Any ol’ *******
Can kick down a barn
How many can build one
Or make chili con carne
They want to dismantle
The healthcare that’s there
Without a replacement
Of which we’re aware
They go against
The rising tide
Then wonder why
They’re being denied
They’d rather remain antiquated
By embracing the things
Most people hated
A salient fact that can’t be debated
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
i’m convinced we let go
twice
once
in order to
leave ourselves broken
and alone
on a cold floor
till we flatline
then once more
to realize
we always were
broken
and alone
we
always
were
ironic
ain’t it?
it’s special
that kind of silence
somehow comforting
only after the eeriness
of no one caring
truly
sets in
and no one is supposed to
i was surprised to learn this
especially as a child
i learn it every day still
especially as a man
and you’re lucky
if momma does
some mommas don’t
some mommas can’t
yes
as a man
i must learn
to bloom
not only bloom
but to hide
the uglier colors
and only display
the primaries
the strong ones
the vividness of manliness
never my grays
and blacks
where i tend to color
most of my mind
i sometimes hate it
and sometimes i like it like that
there’s no lines
or borders i can’t cross
i’m not expected to be
good
at it
i’m asked to
handle things
and to listen
intently
while i can barely
handle the echoes
to begin with
nobody asks about those
nobody needs to
nobody should
not even momma
why would i worry her?
she’s the only one
ever around
when lingering drumming sounds
rise
it’d be nice to be asked
but a lot of things would be nice
and this silence is nice
sometimes
most of the time it ain’t
but i lay
alone
drama free
and no amount of company
can take that peace from me
or piece from me
givers give
and
takers take
beware the silence
that roams that
strong silhouette of his
for he definitely
opens up fully
to his shadows
and his shadows
really listen
he doesn’t have
to let go of them
they never leave
in fact
they’re his followers
and after a chat
and a quiet cry
he goes back
to momma
and no one else
as it should be
as it is
and
as it will be.
-melancholicreator
Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 5:12 PM UTC
I am a Dull gray
Drifting amongst
a sea
of vivid primaries
Always plan d or e
I yearn to be
accepted
Like My opinion
matters
When I have a
revelation
to have a partner to
confirm it
When you have
Not a person
To freely converse with
Life seems mundane
Just standing in vain
With a load of pain
The yearning coursing through you veins
Yet it seems
Out of reach
To again live
The life I once thrived in
I walk through the hallway
every day
No way to erase the problems
Of yesterday
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
Such confidence
They have
In this American system
In this American dollar
As long as their lives
Are not directly affected
Everything is as it always is
Isn't it?
Oh America, great America
So sound and secure
Drowning in 18 trillion in debt
America will never fail
They seem unaware
Of the troubling times
They live in
Just turn the ball game on
Everything is normal
They seem oblivious
One day
They'll see
But it will only be
The very minute
Of the collapse
Why don't they see
The danger?
Tuned in to the presidential primaries
They love politics
At this point
It does not matter
Who is president
America has fallen
A sense that a troubling
And trying time is coming
For this nation
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
To realize her life’s ambition
She needed some competition
Before she was hoping and wishing
By default she’d inherit the position
Now her back is against the wall
But she’ll find a way to overcome all
Before the primaries fall
She’ll be the one standing tall
Now this is not to suggest
Of her opponent I think any less
To do so would be to digress
Cos I like him I have to confess
But I’m trying to be pragmatic
Without sounding too emphatic
See I’m not trying to cause any static
But to select anyone else would be irratic
Now I’ve looked at the other side
And if the laws of logic are applied
There’s a reason they’ll all be denied
They’re not on the voters side
They’re in bed with the lobbyists
Who’ve shown them the most largesse
So If by now you haven’t guessed
At best they’re owned by special interests
I do feel once the dust finally settles
And the voters have tested her metal
Her opponents will have back-pedaled
And she’ll find her way home like Gretel
She’s destined to make history
Though she already has if you’re asking me
It’s just something that’s meant to be
And she’s qualified ultimately
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
the title comes as easy as water from the tap,
the poem’s body, somehow lost in the prep,
comeback a day later, looking for total recall,
and what my mind meant, intended, by a multi-coloration
and
the notion of humility as my overarching,
modus operandi, adding a filter, that diffracts
pure light into a spectrum of primary
primaries-
building blocks of our most basic
essences; seeing the spectrum not as pieces
but as a whole body blended, a mix, oils mixed into a purified glow and see humans
in this light and only in this light
and
remaking a multi into a singularity
and
this will be my only filter for assessing
the future as far ahead as my vision will
allow
Dec 30, 2024
Dec 30, 2024 at 5:20 PM UTC