"proselytize" poems
Sailors, chanters and politicians
Proselytize our new dimensions
Warriors, weavers and priest-drawn blood
Sanctify our new haven.
The sun comes up
We chop wood
Toolerize and gamify our fun
Still the same man under the same sun.
And for millennia
The new is suppressed
Marked as devilry
To keep us meek.
Feeling crazy today
Going to have my say
But first I'll impregnate
The Chief's chief lay.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
did you know
that the
self effulgent light
of God it self
is **** shaped
as above so below
the inner revelation
******* above...light woven
*** hole below ...flesh woven
does this not infer
a magical operation
perhaps a hermetic
ritual of adoration
perhaps a puja
to the ****
with ornate
kaleidoscopic mandalas
replete with wrinkles
and folds
emerald toilet bowls
silk *** wipe
with full color florals
to be ingratiated
by **** art prints
and to be fussed over
and judged
by certified *******
clergy
then to cleanse
with fragrant ointments
that it may remain
unsullied by its
birthing labors
voluptuous
smoldering
fecundations
for purities sake
as god remains
free of limitation
it too
must remain
free of its forgetful
tarnished children
i build temple of ****
high above the people
the little *****
do they
even know
where they come from
how they may
devote themselves
to the grandeur
of the solar ****
and its bestowals
of clumpy torpedoes
the catechism
of the solar ****
to know
to adore
to prostrate
to proselytize
the glory of ****
to the
for corners
of the earth
to be faithful
unto it
to be obedient
and present
your *******
for ritual manicures
by the true initiates
the fussy
******* faeries
those who have
the secret knowledge
and remain true
to the lore
and precepts
set forth
of divine correspondences
to fully appreciate
its eminence
its glory
and have no
God before it
that mercy
will follow them
all the days
of there lives*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
We were the transient children
windswept youth
marching to break the barrier
between nightness and dawn
whispering immigrant secrets
of our fathers
and mothers
lying on rooftops yelling
arrays of stars
speeding away
racing light
racing racing racing
hearts as we crawled
down fire escapes to
street corners
to proselytize
Amen
Hari Krishna
Namaste
As-Salāmu 'Alaykum
silent God
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 3:48 AM UTC
Learn to recognize lies, while they stand at
Their podiums, and proselytize,
Like so many Sunday preachers,
You can see it in their eyes, and
Their shifty ****** features, though
Their words seem sincere,
Their subtle cues, serve as
Teachers of their inner intent, so
Don't forget your diligence, and
Let them **** your dissent, with
Empty promises and rhetoric, to
Fill your head with lies about,
How war is for the betterment, of
Nations abroad, the sentiment
Is laughable, the premise is a fraud.
Cause when it all boils down, and
When push comes to shove,
Democracy has grass roots, it's
Not imposed from above, and
At the end of the day, money is
The factor prime, it's the secret
Justifier for this terroristic crime,
First, they bombed Iraqi cities,
In a trial of "Shock and Awe"
That killed even more civilians,
Than what 9/11 saw, and
Once the cities were demolished,
Halliburton then rebuilt them, and
Reaped enormous profits,
To the tune of 40 billion, and
Among other things, in this
"Just" war's spoils, were
The underground oceans,
Flowing full of crude oil, and
We all fund these atrocities,
These lies, these hypocrisies, well
If you decide this ain't the type,
Of thing that you can stand for,
Write "exempt" on line 7, of your W-4
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
I poeticize, proselytize
Punctuate and pontificate.
I write couplets and rhymes
And I really do it all the time.
I exacerbate and exaggerate
With no desire to intimidate.
I make similes and metaphors
Indoors and even out of doors.
There’s cussing and discussion
And sharp literary impressions
Through diversions, conversions
Allusions as well as conclusions.
And with luck, no delusions.
Just syllabically deft fusions
Of some deferential references
With a deft touch of reverence.
I rhyme thyme with fresh lime
And cardamom with cinnamon.
Sweetbreads and shortbreads.
Chicken bones and licking scones.
Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings
And matching up filets with filberts
Just as cocoa goes well with Kona.
Marmalade can be a good marinade.
I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles,
Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps.
Cellophane and vintage airplanes.
Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps.
Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches,
Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet.
As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors.
Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
I proselytize
For a new mythology
With a gasp and groan.
People I don't know:
I might crucify myself
For all these strangers.
Inaccessible;
Turn crucible sweet with work
And wake at manger.
Must find the lady,
Cast her down, find Narcissus;
Teach him to atone.
Cain, Prometheus.
Mood colors a mountain day,
Forges with cold hands.
The earth high can see
Serene deaths at silent sea.
All the quiet lands.
I proselytize
For a new mythology
And worship alone.
Feb 6, 2010
Feb 6, 2010 at 6:55 PM UTC
O, I believe there might be something out there we can't see.
Some Cosmic Orchestrator or Supreme Divinity...
But why would it be calling you, just you and you alone?
If It's just all-so-powerful, it knows to use the phone.
I really see no reason, there's no reason I can see
Why God would bother calling you, and never ring up me.
But then again I'm just a simple man who won't define
The wherefore and the whatnot or the mind of The Divine.
Yet still I have a doubt or two that you've heard Holy Word...
Your actions speak much louder, Sir, than anything I've heard
From your lofty pulpit where you rant and proselytize
And tell us God just told YOU all the things we should despise.
But then again I'm just a simple man who won't define
The wherefore or the whatnot or the mind of The Divine.
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 3:55 PM UTC
This is the tale, too often told
Of the idiots and the bums
And why those silly fools applaud
Whenever the apocalypse comes.
When things get good for common folk
Those in power get extremely worried.
They fear people will discover where lies
All the freedoms the rich people buried.
They were aware, while the populace isn’t
Of the changes they made in the laws;
That the elite put in place corruption
Where opportunity so recently was.
The poorly-named Conservatives
Quietly un-conserved the truth
In order to tie the hands of men
And proselytize our gullible youth.
They vilified and imprisoned those
Among the un-bribed journalists
And went right on stealing from us
And having their illicit trysts.
Those who knew they could not rule
Unless they made villains of heroes
Bought their way to power with
Wiith numbers and many zeroes.
The populace was fed huge lies
About how horribly poor we all were,
Implying we were no better off
Than cavemen wearing only fur.
They taught the stupid among us
All of the idiots and the bums,
That they had the only answers,
That they could reverse the sums.
The idiots are easy to understand
They are looking for some answers.
The bums sit back and let it happen
And never get their stuff together.
The bums decide everything is fine
Until they lose their jobs and houses
And then the *** and idiot both;
What to do? He whines and grouses.
Meanwhile even more of the wealth
That it would take to fix our land
Rotated even more back and forth
Between the same few hands.
This is what happens every time,
This is the cycle that repeats here
Defeating progress and smashing hope
Year after Conservative year.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
I love this woman, I can't let her go.
Confession of love? I won't let her know.
I stop cupid in his tracks: catch arrow.
To make it all last I'll start real, real slow.
I leave hints of my name for her to see.
Her flowers tasted by my honey bee.
Whatever she creates I proselytize.
Billion degrees in my campfire eyes.
She is that sun to my bright dream night cries.
I'm lost in her affection though I've none.
I can imagine, her kisses are fun.
My glorious wishes won't be undone.
She is that mile target and I'm the gun.
When she says yes, I'll tell everyone!
A carefully crafted letter to her...
Sent back stamped denied, my vision's a blur.
I planned this so well, but not this failure.
This is a crime! Someone stop her! Jail her!
Sicker as days pass, my skin is paler.
I, noble warrior; she, impaler.
I've been a patriot in her nation,
She was supposed to be my savior.
**** this emotional constipation,*
I should have just approached her earlier.
I suppose I'll try again... when I can.
Cupid readies his bow: another girl.
I halt his trigger finger... first, I plan.
Our hero, obsessing over opportunity: "stuck in a loop"
Made certain his failure would return; luck into ****
Squandered opportunity we all know,
But it is failure we line out in a row.
This is why he's the hero, he never gives up,
But he never amounts to anything...
urrghh! I'm gonna throw up.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
Words tumbled out of an aluminum commode
into a hungry mouth: naïveté.
Libations atop a tin altar
in a squalid temple rife with the stench
of lascivious youth
bemoaned battle cry
transcendent in the sound of forever.
Coming of Age
a cleverly disguised charade
kept in place
by a smile that never breaks
until dawn.
White noise
cryptic static
proselytize
vomiting mucus-draining corpses
a parade of mindless disciples
dancing to the beat
of the heart in a distant star
whose life perished in the forgotten past.
Fabricated promises of maturation
facetiae in the frozen teeth that
only part for the stubborn tongue to
lap up remaining consciousness on the floor
like a begging dog.
By himself he's weak
but among many he's a god.
A song bludgeons the eardrums
"Tonight, tonight, to-night": Repetitio est mater studiorum.
There's a voice in my head but
you put a hand o'er it's mouth
and pried mine open with
the monkey's paw
clutching a rose goblet
containing spiritual cleansing.
I've got a good idea
but bad intentions
and there's enough feculence wrapped in flesh and lies
to make this place feel like Heaven.
Stuffing my mouth with promises and
fallacies
that won't become clear until the
bottle is empty.
I'm washing away all the pain
and the hurt
right?
I'm a man now, risen from the
dirt
right?
I'll put my trust in the siren's call
reaching through the fog to grasp
her by the hair
I fall into the murky bog
beleaguered by strangulating tendrils
wrapping around my frail bones
I feel I'm being pulled under
and I'm all alone
I see their shimmering faces on the surface
distorted
in the reflection
peering into the soul as I
make my descent into the abyss.
Waking up a man with a
battered conscience
Compromise wraps a warm blanket around
me and places coffee between
crusty and brittle fingers
A gentle kiss on my forehead
is the finishing touch
leaving me alone with my baleful torment.
Coming of Age is a charade.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 7:17 PM UTC
Castigate Sublimate
Sanctify Indoctrinate
Expatriate Disseminate
Proselytize Reiterate
Reject, Deny, and Obfuscate
Incarcerate Dehumanize
Desensitize Decimate
Incinerate Rejuvenate
Simplify and Permeate
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
I'm a pagan that's more Christ-like than Christians
I'm an anarchist that's more patriotic than patriots
While these fools idolize empty symbols of ideology
I'm the optimist wanting to work with my community
to make a better society
**** right I'm inept
I'm raised by boomer tech
you got a life
and are outta debt
Your kids fell in the trap
you set later in life
You're happy with a home and a wife
I'm renting to stay transient
in case my boss decides my career is worthless
Romantic and hopeless
I'll fall for a podcast host just by hearing her voice
and the truth she tells
The Right thinks we'll all flee to their side
once we start making these bucks
where you can leave managing a wally world for oil wells
Well I made it bud
Got the prestige but no full pockets
or pensions to speak of
The older folks got enough crass to complain
'bout their pay cuts and theirs alone
We'll never see piles so grand
Got the inflation calculator app
to proselytize about this scam
But those ears can't hear
unless it happens to them
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 5:55 PM UTC
you, child, are everything.
you are hope and love,
the hand of death,
the tar that swallows species.
you are the morning dew that glistens
and whispers rumors
about the end of the world.
you can be anything you want to be!
is the lie we’ve all agreed to murmur
in your eager, gullible ears
because we know, cruelly, you will believe us.
clasp your hands, child,
in those moments of fulgurant despair
when God seems almost real,
when He seems to stand over you,
all His divine hosts ready to proselytize you
in your moments of weakness.
clasp your hands, squeeze them tight,
fingernails biting into flesh,
because sometimes pain is the only certainty,
and remember the promise, child:
ignore the whiskey-soaked father standing over you
with the notched belt;
ignore the bleeding bread-crumb trails of dreams
left scattered in your wake;
ignore the miles-long nights and worries and grudges
and the abandoned i-wills and i-swears;
ignore the emptiness that swells in your chest until
you cry, alone, because yes, you are alone.
ignore the ceaseless tide of days
where you feel nothing.
do not worry, child: these are the side-effects of greatness.
you can be anything.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
There was a man spent decades off to sea
Adrift in whorls and waves of augur flights
Something in his existence bid him flee
To avoid long and lonely fear-fraught nights
But now he is sharp’ning his iron will
And keeping his feet aground, firmly planted
He’s leaning on his gods with a secret thrill
For he’s learned to love all things enchanted
—-
Awakenings cut through thickest fog
Like light beams pierce through darkest night
Illumining all of Gog and Magog,
Winning them back at the end of the fight
He chose to believe and claimed the change
That sprouted within his weary chest
Went forth not knowing domain or range
And put-off longer his final rest
—-
A fond acquaintance said, “One suspects
No one really believes in God at their core...
Else if they believed in the fiery effects,
They’d be monsters not to proselytize more!”
So deep did it cut him, to hear this said,
That he cried as he held his acquaintance’s face,
And spoke, “Yes, and it’s I that should be dead,
If not for the glory and brilliance of grace”
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
I’ve heard believers often state
In the name of religion God is great
While they produce nothing but hate
Which serves to encourage the debate
If they valued what they had
How come they always seem so mad
In the name of religion the things we do
Whether we’re Christian Muslim or Jew
Are the kind of things we should eschew
Those things we’re all taught not to do
I’ve seen some folks who proselytize
And wear religion like a disguise
But before too long you realize
They’re people that you should despise
For what they do not what they say
Cos they’re just hypocrites anyway
In the name of religion the things we do
Whether we’re Christian Muslim or Jew
Are the kind of thing we should eschew
Those things we’re all taught not to do
Some say religion should be abolished
Based on what is common knowledge
So few practice what they preach
Or truly believe the things they teach
And most religions seems convinced
That only theirs makes perfect sense
And sometimes that can be intense
When they’re not open and so hence
They require submission upon demand
But reject your beliefs out of hand
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
Blinded by their hatred of others
taught them by those with an equally vile past
If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god
Is this how the extremists share the love of their god
would not a god desire converts to choose him
yet those who would proselytize
offer fear and punishment as their incentive
If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god
You think I speak of Islam
no, it is all of the Abrahamic peoples
you say, no not us
but it continues within all three branches
today we see the focus on Islam
while we ignore the Zionist movement
we complain, what has this to do with Christianity
while hiding our eyes from Bangui
in the Central African Republic it is Christians killing Muslims
because they are Muslims
There is no need to travel to see the evidence of this hate
the bombings of abortion clinics
the ****** of doctors who perform abortions
proves the hate is right here at home
and there are those who celebrate the deaths
of people who do not believe exactly as they do
If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god
We hear the voices of the extremists
calling for the deaths of the non believers
so many seek that eye for an eye
choosing to remain blind in their hate
Why is it that even within each leg
those known as Sunni cannot get along with the Shiite
Protestants and Catholics war with each other
the Semites of Israel and Palestine continue to battle
when their roots are all found
in the same servant of their god
Ideology ***** when it drives people to **** each other
all their books condemn killing
while at the same time justify killing the non believer
in the name of their god
There is no glory in this
How their god must weep
how he must wish them to rid themselves of their books
and live in peace with each other
If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Just because you’re there
Doesn’t mean you’re able
To change a single mind
At your master’s table
You may believe you can
But let me share with you a fable
Though they were blood brothers
Cane still slew Abel
Just because you’re there
Sitting in the room
Doesn’t mean you have the right
To summarily assume
That you can make a difference
Like the people you presume
Invited you there to do so
Under their nom de plume
Just because your there
In such close proximity
Doesn’t mean there’s been a change
In the thoughts of your enemy
It should be crystal clear
They've never been a friend ya see
And I sincerely fear
That they will never be
Just because you’re there
In the camera shot
Doesn’t mean a thing
It’s just a photo- op
Now you can proselytize
Until you choose to stop
But you’ve been invited there
Strictly as a prop
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights resered.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
Return with me to the beginning.
Enter by form.
Feel the rhythm in nature
and move with it.
That which you make,
make from your heart.
Must YOU think so much?
Sound and resound.
Accept why we're here together.
Let's delay our gratification, lengthen our span of attention.
Must YOU fight everything?
Take joy in the struggle
of coming together, melding.
If it fits, let's wear it well.
Must YOU care what others think?
Let's build up instead of
tearing down, and may we always know when building up means tearing down.
Why don't we just band together?
Let's cherish good chemistry. . . It
doesn't happen very often.
Must YOU reject your own happiness??
I am offering my song freely.
To you. I SHALL make deep changes. I SHALL put my EGO away and be a river, flowing with no attachments. I SHALL play from the inside out, with a noble and true heart.
Must YOU feel you don't deserve?
Let's never proselytize each other, but open each other's mind to imperfection. Let's give to each other without regard to getting. Receive with sincere gratitude.
Must this ALL be so hard?
Let's endeavor together to make harmony from disharmony. Let's see the glass as half full understanding that as we try to fill it together, the glass will get bigger. Let's speak directly from our hearts to each other's heart as if passing the flame of a candle.
Must YOU build walls of mis-trust?
Together, we can combine beauty and virtue. Own nothing. Illuminate everything. With only the TRUST and the DESIRE to do so.
Exit from form.
Awaken.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
And I shall
flinch the brittle creature
from the rock face
proclamate,
proselytize,
with frightening
euphoria
to your glorious embrace,
I must comply,
perching
vulturine, delirious
impervious to pain
near that place
between excitement
and all possible regret
I will go by
Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 12:53 AM UTC
6 0’ clock
and the string of doors on the block
creak open in unison,
The briny smell of sizzling, leathery bacon accretes,
Seeping forth from pale shutters,
Peeling past the cars, stripping beige paint off the sides of houses.
The morning drizzle, forming tiny rainbows,
You would think it was acid rain,
melting away the plastic people.
Midday, after only an hour passes
and white wine splashes
like crashing waves in the crystalline stemware,
Where orderlies dazedly rescue their children from the montessories
Where power lines crack like whips,
So generously oozing sustenance to babes.
The civiliter mortuus, roam their undead domain,
Like a swarm of cockroach wasps
speed walking in parasitic pairs
darting through Safeway aisles,
Demolishing houses of white chocolate, and roasting sweet nothings
On the new George Foreman Grill ™ .
Every house on loan to apathetic debtors
They come to yours with their holy letters
PTA, … IRA … NSA … HOA
They proselytize, prioritize
Themselves over forest bears and wolves,
But where only hedge trimmers growl
The only Tuesday sounds are the behemoth
Devouring your trash,
And where leaf blowers asthmatically howl.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Maybe it’s our evolution
That has us calling for a revolution
You can hear it in our elocution
Only change can bring about solution
In the past we’ve asked for restitution
And welfare clearly isn’t retribution
It does nothing for the absolution
Of people who are Lilliputians
We worked your fields
And in your homes for free
Raised your children
Cooked your meals ya see
We’re not asking for too much are we
All we want is reciprocity
And reparations happen to be key
Because I know your sordid history
I’m looking forward
It’s too painful to look back
What’s my crime I happen to be black
I’ve been whipped and stretched out on a rack
Even today I’m still under attack
But I don’t want no free stuff that’s a fact
I’m just looking for a big payback
So I can acquire some things that I lack
You may think I’m trying to proselytize
I’m just trying to open up your eyes
In the hope that you will realize
Feelings that have finally crystallized
Inner feeling I’ve tried to disguise
And I’m not in the mood to compromise
Until what I have asked for is recognized
It’s not enough for you to apologize
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
This song, it won't berate you
It won't, the Bible, beat
It's only a reminder
It's not meant to defeat.
It won't put you down at all
Once I was where you sit
It won't proselytize at all
(Well, maybe just a bit).
We enjoy the holidays, right?
With friends & family round!
We await the "Jolly Elf"
And happiness abounds!
*RIGHT?
Deck the halls and celebrate!
Put on festive togs!
Put the roast beast in the oven
Burn those yuletide logs!
Christmas or Winter Solstice?
Does it matter, folks?
We're having FUN this time of year...
Laughing! Telling jokes!
RIGHT?*
That's true of many people
But do ALL withstand the test?
There are those who have no family
Not all of us so blessed.
Those of us who have our friends
May not understand
But when you have nobody
Holidays ain't so grand.
(Chorus)
Those of us despondent
At this time of year
When everything seems gloomy
A light CAN, in us, appear!
No. Holidays aren't for everyone
No Christmas cards to send
But when you know a Savior
**YOU'LL ALWAYS HAVE A FRIEND.
(BRIDGE)
So let's light a candle
It is NOT THE END
Once you accept Jesus Christ
You'll always have a friend!**
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/23/2019
Dec 23, 2019
Dec 23, 2019 at 11:55 PM UTC
Annoying thoughts can color dreams,
which proselytize their wanton schemes;
Intriguing worlds come into play,
while clouds of perception waste away.
The doldrums of this mournful scene,
can shatter hopes of a life serene;
A struggle lasts beyond the days,
in melancholy moments here to stay.
How do the clouds relieve our pain,
in subtle spaces which shall remain ?
Among the woolly white of fluff,
destructive signals call our bluff.
How soon the notions that perceive,
a chance to grow, a chance to grieve;
For when the night calls to the clouds,
it wraps the daylight in its shroud.
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 11:42 AM UTC