Whining dog...we just went outside.
Wading through internet DATs and cogs and bandwidth hogs, outside still raining cats and dogs.
double-click trawling pics and blogs searching for remedies and laws that inhibit logs to saw.
Wide-eyed, face down I sprawl still awake, redefining  my character flaws,
fearing my falling into the trappings of urban sprawl or
investing your mind then hitting the wall.
Lose or draw,
a new artistic affair or creative outlet dares you daily to fall.
"Late" is now "Early"
Dawn's illuminating looming, night to be soon consumed.
Insomnia vacuums,
drama typhoons,
crooning tunes....
It'll be June soon.
Feeling marooned waiting for the opportune...well, I'm still waiting,
Whining dog...we just went outside...Fine!
Rain drains backlogged in the AM black...****** dog. Decide! He takes his time.
Three nights of showers,
cowering under this street corner lighted power tower,
unrequited efforts to stay dry.
Moon still high, clouded bright behind the wetness...
Wait, what if I see "her"?
Should I dare bare my soul, take control, or say simply "Hello?" just to know?
Do I want to know "yes" or "no"?
Grandmother always said "The truth is the most powerful force you'll ever face, trace, disgrace or embrace"
I remember my last pursuance of the truth.
You remember college...
The ubiquitous responsibility of apologies for the skewed knowledge sleuth colleges preclude.
A four, no five year matterless smattering reviewing the hows, whys and whos who of Impressionist imbued hues;
the politics of subdued Katmandu coups,
Homer's muses; many a Siren sank the boats I crewed;
news crews that flew the bird flu news coop and recouped,
skewed suing over Golden Arch morning brew,
tragedies, sonnets, and nothing adieus,
spewed formulas and equations notecard ques,
standing in long line registration cues every time we change Major views,
all fueled by a boozing, smokey ballyhoo of Tullamore Dew, hopped brews, tattoos, crude food, music muses and quoted virtues.
What’s even true and what would you do if you knew, ****** logic class…
And alas, you're through! “Here’s your paper, now choose.”
The ****** inequity of iniquity dams me so I can't break free.
Such an abrupt disruption could erupt great corruption,
the self-destruction is tempting, but doesn't pay rent.
Not today, but maybe soon.
June's coming...dryer and higher noon.

R.Craig David- copyright 2008
Redux Edition April 1st, 2013
Inspired by rain, blame shame, the game and a cute girl just 3 doors down that still remains a stranger in my old college town.

The country road like  poet’s fancies unravels
Through the   giant hanky- sized paddy fields
And  the dream  sized ponds
Dotting  the landscape
in perfect  squires and riots of skewed and regular shapes
The green spread and the muddy beds, spell the village beauty.

Parrot green fields
And  stark blue skies  look at each other
In perfect silence, like mother and babe
And a   great , grey house  exposing its ragged bricks,
Bared like  the buck tooth of the old
Provokes a  village memory

Past picking itself slowy and ambling into the future
Its wooden columns
stand like mute  exclamation marks!
or so it may  look to me.
Flies  the  skidding scaly tarred  snake  
Fast and spreading like the traveler travelling on it.

Patchy it looks, now;  
And  full like the  misery  of the scorned lover
Eager like  the  maiden speech of a parlimentarian  
The country road, runs  fluid like a stream after the rains.
As the rustle of the engine   trips and   falls
into the  divine  air.

A  roaming peacock calling adds  charm to the great whole  fare
A winged beauty, struts across
Nudged by the sputtering , speeding me.
The exotic avian   attains the hedges galore
With its   metal blue  feathery strangeness blurred in my glancing eye
A species rare, found only in ornithologists diary.

A  clamour in the  air
And the   school boys emerge in buddy pairs
Beneath the  village banyan
That  let loose its tresses to dry like a country maid.
I see, a promising glint in their eyes
The  will make themselves of  king and ministers of the modern days


The  sonority of ringing bell  
clubs the cacophony of school boys  in into two dead parts.
They return to their classes, sanctified by the silence,
And open their minds to the feminine vocie.
A Glorious moment ,
As the  morn of wisdom is born

Rich are the sightings of poor country side
And many are the mappings on the way,
My sensibilities recouped,
I drove back
not spent
But profound.


sound.

Something between us came and gone...
..,
Thought it was love or lust or desire
...
But if love comes to our hearts with worry!
...
It does not leave or knows to end the furry!!
...
Tis only a cloud with a drift passing by ...
....
In a dry desert with a hot sun in the sky ..
....
My sweat of love evaporated off my skin ..,
...,
My blood dried out and my heart stopped beating ...
....
I am not like yesterday.. My love is cured ..
...
One side pulling on the rope.. won't tighten the love even if the rope is tight ...
...
I dont deny that my love became heavy on the one I desire ..
...
There lyes my heart dead engulfed in flame and fire ...
...
She came and weeped at my heart crying really hard ..,

She said forgive me Bassam .. "I am too cold"
...
Her tears started dribbling down a little stream to my heart nub ...
....
And suddenly she heard my heart say "lub ... dub"
...
And some how my heart recouped from death absorbing its sorrow ...
....
It's started to beat with hopes of love and desires of tomorrow...
...
It rose in hopes of love of golden yarrow
...
She was happy to see me and wiped her tears ...
...
She said .., "Let's start a new beginning free of dismay and jeers" ...
...
"And endless love without delay"
...
"Away from false hopes and blame"

"Something with lust and without shame!"

I said "I am here ... my love is tamed!

"Take me on with lust ordained"

"I admit to you that my love has changed"
..
She said "Forever now ... you are locked within" ...

By: Cedric McClester

Heaven knows
We’re about more than cash clothes and hos
But you’d never know that I suppose
From those negative images the media shows
Or by looking at the latest rap videos
With every other woman in ‘em over exposed
You’d never know that’s not the way it goes

If you don’t mind I’d like to keep it real
By telling you exactly how I feel
Cos it’s high time that you heard the deal
You’re being exploited for your *** appeal
They got you showin your body to everyone
Especially the parts that don’t get no sun
And you’re telling yourself you’re just having fun
It’s only gonna serve to get you done
Think you’re gonna get rich (someone lied)
All you’re gonna be is objectified
And when they get done (cast aside)
Or told there’s a pole that you can ride
Is that what you really want (you decide)
Don’t cha know that’s not what life’s about
By now I woulda thought you had figured it out

Cos heaven knows
We’re about more than cash clothes and hos
But you’d never know that I suppose
From those negative images the media shows
Or by looking at the latest rap videos
With every other woman in ‘em over exposed
You’d never know that’s not the way it goes

Fifty thousand hanging around your neck
Over-drafted at the bank can’t write a check
And once they’ve recouped here’s what to expect
You’ll be lucky to hold on to your drop top Lex
You’re used to livin like the rich and famous
Now you’re walkin around dazed and aimless
Former fans approaching askin what your name is
And the worst thing about it what the actual shame is
Got you thinking that’s the way life’s supposed to be
And you’re tryin to go to bed with every ** you see
You can’t separate what’s real from fantasy
And you’re wonderin how you caught that STD
It’s high time you settled back down to earth
And analyzed what the hell all of it’s worth
A string of baby’s mamas who have given birth
Will only make you dig deeper inside you purse

Heaven knows
We’re about more than cash clothes and hos
But you’d never know that I suppose
From those negative images the media shows
Or by looking at the latest rap videos
With every other woman in ‘em over exposed
You’d never know that’s not the way it goes

Right about now you should get the picture
Success came along and when it bit cha
It changed sumthin in ya – that you won’t admit to
Like fallin for the things that are bound to get cha
The parties the girls who never say no
A prescription for disaster now you’re doin blow
And goin to places that you shouldn’t go
Bet you didn’t think you could stoop that low
But there you are now and nevertheless
None of those things bring you happiness
Money ain’t the answer but you’d never guess
When you spent all of that time reaching for success
Did the thought occur to you it might be a test
From the Man Up Above (The One Who Knows You Best)
Now you’re miserable but you won’t confess
Though everyone can see that you’re a ****** mess

Heaven knows
We’re about more than cash clothes and hos
But you’d never know that I suppose
From those negative images the media shows
Or by looking at the latest rap videos
With every other woman in ‘em over exposed
You’d never know that’s not the way it goes

So now you’re on top but what you go and do
Sumthin real stupid now look at you
Bein perp walked like you’re in a zoo
See the man had a plan now he’s come for you
So you shake you’re head ain’t that a *****
Why’s it always the lawyers who come out rich
You never would have guessed that your man’s a snitch
But he cut a deal so the feds scratched his itch
Now your career’s buckwheats (going down the drain)
I can imagine the thoughts goin through your brain
Now you’re lookin for God to come and explain
And I sympathies bro cos I feel your pain
Try though you may in an attempt to please us
Maybe what you need is to get close to Jesus
What’s God is God’s and what’s Caesar’s Caesar’s
Sometimes we’re given things as a way to tease us

Heaven knows
We’re about more than cash clothes and hos
But you’d never know that I suppose
From those negative images the media shows
Or by looking at the latest rap videos
With every other woman in ‘em over exposed
You’d never know that’s not the way it goes

(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.

she
the one made of fume and ice
brought
the soul of the fish
as big as human
holding up in her arms
under full moon
to the beach of the ocean

her transparent ******
broadened the dark waters
to balance the embodiment

as she stood
ageless-straight
to bless and be blessed
by her gift
as flesh and blood

the wind

made of her long hair
blew
cosmic desire

awakened
across ahead
above
ripple glitter

an angel

made of
of light
hung
above
up

o the roughened
as if twilight

o the moonlight

reflected
the she
made of

or illusions
or of myths

same way
with a fish
in her arms

they exchanged
the yet not-materialized

in emotionless boldness

for a moment
that differentiates
upon acceptance

questionless
synchronous
for the grounding
of being

as for her
it was not possible to deliver and leave

she was made of her gift
as much as she was she
as much as fish was her creation
she came to the sea

she stays as she stands towards eternity

if not right
let rendered solemn
lithify  
and salute
the exploit of its rhetoric
if right
let the deed be its myth

for the generations unborn

she made of wisdom
of her gift
she made of moon particle
started flowing towards
the reshaping
rocks to coral
coral to light
in bits and pieces
moment by moment

as wavelengths of
the angelic
faded like
the fading diamonds

along the fins and scales
of blue orange green

the flesh
the immaterial but real
rose the sea smell

for a joyous jump

a big salty splash
created by
a rush
of life

glitter recouped
at dawn
with a rising sun

Thought maybe growing up, would mean tumbling down the slippery hill.
Lose my goals beneath my feet.
But I didn't.
Keen to be an adult.
Do what the big girls do.

Maybe I did, maybe I didn't.
Sought out controversy.
From the land of fools.
What I got I did not want.
Thought I did .
I didn't want it really.

And did those feet from ancient times lead me in the wrong direction?
Maybe they did, maybe they didn't.
Finally at the juicy age of fifty.
Am not stumbling or tumbling.
Nor tripping the light fantastic.
Found a pile of discarded *******.
Finally threw it in the bin.
Once missing, now recouped.
My long lost self-esteem!
(C) LIVVI X 2014

River red...
Regression; returning recovery.
Right; revealing respect.
Response...
Recouped.

Happy 83rd birthday to thy cremated mom

Harriet Harris fought tooth and nail
Mother succumbed
to terminal illness without fail
Ovarian/ Uterine Cancer to no avail
hosted by death feasted fancy
at Oyster Bay metastasized inducing this male
the sol son to grapple as psyche didst ail.
***********
Major organs compromized grim reaper and
carried corpse into dead zone as a keeper brand
donned as one Canarsie flashy dame grand
ball room dancer didst skittered in right hand
side o' me noggin, the idea flit ta left land
of gray matter thru me mined task didst ex panned

foregoing bidding on e-bay, ruminate how trite
online shenanagins, never asking nor knowing spite
most likely raged within yar being,
which lack of filial duty haint right
to be near where psyche flails quite
understandably, but no matter matthew scott

never did ask, how emotions most clear aflame
with anger writhing asper your terminal plight
vis a vis injustice to ****** desire with shroud of night
arising each morning to brilliant light

ye, thy lover of life becoming ashen gray
with recurring incomplete bucket list that may
already, a dozen plus years ago - neigh
aye methinks, so much deprived of grandchildren ply
their oars thru the time stream, how **** sigh
to partake whence thee drew final breath thy
avoid seeing thee stiffen with rigor mortis, why...

did unlucky dice throw of fate
rob and steal unattained goals ye strove with grate
fully before out bidden by dead souls, who hate
mortals to complete, thus truncate a lifelong mate
to papa, whom recouped severe loss, though his pate

undoubtedly flits with remembrance
of thee one he did highly rate
despite occasions, where spats hood did vitiate

this son feels he did not booster morale at all
with Huzzah, but stood mute in proximity
when ye didst call
in kitchen of century old stone
mansion built and hall

ways echo wing the absence sans pall
in droning sounds of silence, a squall
vacuumed a key per, a gal fairly tall
whose son now reflects how many a wall
he figuratively erected shuttered from y'all

that home razed, yet memory of complex edifice
still intact, averse to let eyes sweep, the home I miss
analogous to house at Pooh’s Corner
viz shared with a younger and older loving sis

both edging into their twilight zoned time on earth
re: the outer limits of expected longevity, yet stoking
the coals essence of each their respective hearth
324 Level Road Collegeville above recaptured
with recollections of merriment and mirth
oft occasions this sol heir withholding telling worth

thee ness, and must therefore purge such grief
considerably less than when pages
of me life seemed like a shuffled sheaf
or soon after yar demise, a sense of drowning
without recourse to being rescued,
nor near enough to grasp hold of any reef

that home stead, blessedly played important role
constituent key residence like quasar pole
sated light years removed from civilization, when goal
acquisition February 28th 1968 won land slide cole

essence tract of idyllic radiance upon open space
already slated tubby outfitted, transformed for race
sing urbanity asper mobile Americans at a pace
greater than mother nature shows amazing grace
as commercialization takes charge and doth efface,

the once bucolic, ecologic, and idyllic
forces this sentimental sir
to latch upon steady brace
bemoaning and tempted to take ace

hip of hemlock to forego discontent with bing hue
man, who cherished tender mother-son glue
and wondrous tribulation, 
I harbored enshrined and unwittingly flew
from pristine sanctuary secured
deeply in consciousness,

which access to retrieve circumstances
of myself as a boy still dwells in this man shun - clew
less nothing can recreate, nor reconstruct boyhood,
teenage and adult hood pangs
scare me wide-awake
whar frightful dreams serve as boo

stirring of dormant sentiment,
especially thee 13th day n 11th month
of each year
the aura, charisma, and persona, veer
dims sum milk of human kindness bequeathed tear
ring inner sanctum, where
this offspring doth miss his mum, he doth rare
lee shed light, only when faux pause (all faux)
aye scrawl a mini opus knowing you will

never be cognizant, extant, for me to grant mere
cathartic expunging in situ flowing emotions hear
able only to live kith and kin or
akin to Rapunzel unfurling tress buffeted hair

inside my being for love unspoken dare
ring father hood got taught true value, sans two beautiful
grand daughters ye would marvel
poignant traits, and disbelief that this bare
wren wove within DNA lasses who usher an air.

crafting reasonable poetic rhyme
nothing to sneeze... at chew
asthma lingua franca –
acts as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious glue
inspiring me to skip to my loo,
and ye to play altruist gist
imagining how and why I still rue
cashing mucho moolah legal tender
courtesy bitcoin cryptocurrency,
which absolute zero funds recouped,

nevertheless dumbfoundedness ironically
found steely mettle to get smart
courtesy posting gofundme page
(titled implacable ill fate
battered treasured wealth)
on my part already got told to you
dear readers visiting my literary endeavor
written within vernacular English
spoken amidst human zoo.

Okay, the gist of anemic
checking and savings accounts averred
asked from one
FaceBook English literary
Jim Henson creation and
Sesame Street resident Big Bird,
I could plainly enumerate
Sachin (means 'pure' in Sanskrit
and another name for Hindu God, Shiva.

The most famous Sachin  
ranks as recently retired
Indian cricketer, Sachin Tendulkar).

Impossible mission to expunge poison
regarding stupidity and never be cured
of spellbinding nightmares,
and not accused
of acting demurred
the esse cent chill
dime a dozen premise ensured
prime merrily to discover
visa wells Fargo

sieve err (ala Eratosthenes) forward
solution, whereby means
to save money
against being gored
no...no...no...not to be stingy,
nor selfishly hoard
meager unearned social security
monthly allotment, aye ignored
to mention as key piece

of information a dub bill
lit tete ting bout with anxiety,
obsessive compulsive, not cavil
air lee shaken off and schizoid
personality disorder like evil
mailer daemons, which
undermined ability to full fill
quality existence, and even
prescribed about,

a half dozen plus three
medications help ill
psyche, though nonetheless mill
yens of precious moments pill
furred with profuse sweating still
interferes supplementing,
stoking, and socking
away reserve till,

last creased furrow sought out
here in Schwenksville
Pennsylvania most likely, where
one last gulp of oxygen will
finally deliver cremated ashes
into eternal void
where psychological state
free from being destroyed
and forever exempt trying
to be write lee employed.

He was worn out
Tired of the grind
Of all the sleepless nights
His bouts with Father Time
He needed rest
A simple moment to unwind
A place to close his eyes
To leave everything behind
He found his peace
Became sublime
Recouped his vigor
And drank his wine
He had trouble with the law
Though he steered away from crime
But he could not find his center
So instead he lost his mind
If only for the day
As he was so inclined
Exhausted from what transpired
He rest his head up on the wheel
He didn’t have the courage
Or the strength to deal
He thought of everything he could
Then found solace in the woods
He needed time to free his mind
Of what he shouldn’t, and what he should.