"redirection" poems
You were there, but there you weren’t,
There in the mess of my mind.
My dreams look sweet, but that’s simply deceit;
Dreams are where terrors hide.
I saw you once. No, twice! No, thrice!
But you vanished into the unknown.
Play nice with my demons, but please don’t feed them.
Oh my, how we’ve grown!
We’ve grown together and grown apart;
You had my all, then lost my heart.
It’s okay! It’s all fine! Just like it was that one night.
Now my head is spinning and my stomach’s in a knot;
the truth it makes me sick, but I’ll smile through the pain.
Have a wonderful life my dear. Think of me from time to time.
Take life like a shot of tequila: with some salt and a lime!
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
I pick this Earthly slide into Summertime, this season to begin, propels forward in all sense of Time, history retrograde, etched in Stone for Centuries, Coded in DNA, programed Circadian bodies, impressions applied geometric thickly glazed coat, generously slathered across my Retinal Screen.
Setup complete for me, attuned to Solar frequencies, aligned to cohesive Cosmic driving motion spiraling Syncopation with all partaking rotational bodies, all timers set to synchronous, all ties to everything celebrating their teamwork well done.
Activity accelerates, as does the heavy heat, both inseparable, together climbing ****** into sunburnt sweat, steaming, sizzling Sunday barbecue to reflect the Flesh boiling together in sympathetic Celebration of our Seasoned Sun.
Longer days accommodate for memories and fun, commemorate the Force of Season, into swing, will soon be swung, centripetal to glaze a different gaze lathered across my retinal screen, reverberate through Atmosphere, redistribute composition, smooth bottlenecking, flowing out yet emptying to take fill of what flows in.
No change of Season, nor change of Heart, no redirection ever knows emptiness, no moment leaves a Void unfulfilled.
No moment when the smooth Transition stutters to a Stop. The sync is in the constant movement bringing balance in equilibrium by shifting tides, Spinning Stars locking in, programmed by Primal Cause, the Synchronicity in Everything, so Summertime comes, this Time in which we rejoice, knowing it's all been planned, beautifully executed by mechanics of Nature.
Trust in understanding a Power much Greater is in Control, we are here simply for the Experience.
...Not to much more, just in attending to the Transitions of Ourselves.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
genetic & embedded in both
the left and right brains and
heart muscles, pores and parts
that participate in the body’s
daily ritual colloquium regarding
the necessary amount of magic
needed, upkeep required,
to please the Lord,
whose designers were
co~missioned,
tasked-to make a self healing
being, with a reasonable shelf
life but with built-in imperfections
and to struggle and to
*honor that idea that we born blind
and our goal is
learning to see,
envision
our better*
version
the
correct redirection of
constant course corrections
using the
secret compass chord
playing on the harp of our
heart strings
<•>
903am
1/23/25
on a day of addition and sub traction
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 6:07 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
They’re the party of wealth
Unconcerned with the health
Of the economy
Relative to you and me
The situation’s getting frantic
Still they’re up to their old antics
Of symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
They’ve tried to pass a bill
Over there up on the hill
But despite the public will
They keep arguing it still
They’re complaining ‘bout the pork
But haven’t put down their fork
So we’ll have to wait
But the hour’s getting late
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
It seems they have a crush
On a pill popper named Rush
Who someone should tell hush
And stop talking so **** much
By hoping that he fails
While we lay on the rails
He’s blowin wind up their sails
So how did he avoid our jails
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
They voted millions down the drain
In a war that was insane
But now hear them complain
Instead of trying to ease our pain
Their politics remains the same
But we made our selection
Where were they the last election
Cos it changed the whole complexion
With a call for redirection
The problem is gigantic
In fact it’s transatlantic
His approach is sycophantic
But they are quite pedantic
Is he being too romantic
As they come with their semantics
Their symbolism ‘n semantics
Symbolism ‘n semantics
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
"May poetry be our salvation,
liberation and Nirvana"
Bala
*so many ifs in our daily lives
the ifs that pockmark lives individuation,
look-back crossroad regrets, daily harvested,
road poorly chosen, the kiss not taken,
a brother, for a petty sake, forsaken,
a sister, sea-drowned, left undefended,
by foolish parental expectations
many are the global conjunctions,
commencing and ending with an "if only,"
today's state-of-the-world curse,
uttered when reading the front page's
mayhem and senseless,
never-aging, new and old excuses raging
so many palliatives on offer,
what matters yet one more,
none seem able, none proven capable,
of essencing a humanity so simple basic
when the moment at hand needs a
redirection that a loving rhyme can sway
but in my inbox from India
comes a hope, a wish,
that leads a man to dream,
envision societies that could
surround-sound itself with wisps of words,
in the oddest places,
throwing us offsides,
in a make us see ourselves
in better ways
a morning poem before the TV weather,
a verse insert
tween news reports
of who murdered whom this day,
subway poems, a Super Bowl commercial
recitation that makes us lick our lips,
poetic literacy in small things,
a minister or president's speech
a recitation of a nation's verbal wealth,
instead of rejoinders and accusations
ah just a foolish notion at 4:22am,
there is no money in poetry,
thus its possibilities to soften and stem,
cure and elevate
enhance the perchance
of a different way to,
salvation, liberation, and nirvana,
seems so unlikely
but there is that small step
one could take,
leave a poem on the night table,
a first thought, a morn pill of humankind,
be a softener of a day just begun*
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
I see you put a ring on her finger, so you made her your wife
So she's the one you want with the rest of your life.
And that's alright baby.
You chose the better woman for you
But does better make it right baby?
I can't tell you about her heart because I've never been in it.
But I can tell you about the beat of your heart when you hit it.
And when our eyes unite
The fires of desire enlight the flames to ignite
Damsel in distress
You used to be my shining knight
Despite the shadows lingering over the battlefield indicating this might be too dull for you to fight.
So now we just avoid eye contact outright.
But baby you can't tell me that her ***** is this tight.
She's got a maze of expiration dates between her thighs, and I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd never let you out of sight, and I won't.
But don't look me in the eyes and say you love me if you don't.
It's okay baby.
If you need to get away I got a place for you to stay baby.
Foreplay in the doorway,
I got a couple roles for you to portray
While she's upstairs sleeping
Say,
Remember those days baby?
You'll always have a special place in my heart because you've always had a special place in that dark pink treasure chest.
I gave you the keys so you could come and go as you please but it seems we left a few things unaddressed.
Reassess:
It's mine too.
Sharing under the protection of my bed sheets,
The complexion of your ********
The collection of our affection,
There has been redirection to our connection.
There is no love in making love if we're using *** to untie knots.
Tell me what's the point of holding on to something that is not.
But I'll hold on to your memory.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
I brim with compassion.
My strength comes from encountering fear
And gazing into the eyes
Of whatever form it takes.
It lies in my acceptance
Of vulnerability as great as the trees
Whose aged, gentle leaves
Shade my fragile skin
And restore me as I slumber.
This confidence is a new development,
And I do not always bear it with grace;
But I trust in my abilities
And love for living,
(A rare thing! A new thing! A grand thing!),
Which I defend fiercely
And with great care.
Shame upon whomever seeks to shatter
The tranquility of another!
May the yellow eye of terror
Fixate on them
And inspire redirection.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
Angel Friend
He is an Angel Friend.
Old, Wise, and Designed to have a huge heart
A hard working soul that never quits or did such weaken to bend.
Upon his birth..
Designed for brilliance - the bigger, brighter, and more
significant of life purposes..
A legacy forged
At his birth
An energy made itself A great and bright start
Elderly ages equals wisdom and a fatherly care
Energy in a heart forged from gold - such strength shared and Naturally grown
Such vines to sprout and bond
Connections created and they never detach
Away from the one's who have shared such energies, in return.
A beautiful artistic creation
Created through heart's truer matches..
Selfless gifts
Formed from the kindred spirits - like the silk worm's
Carefully generated stitches of silk
From their gratefulness and directed sharing of portions of their life's force
These fibers are woven into unmeasurable
Dime Worthy estimated or appraised "trinkets"
of breathtaking Tapestry Blankets or "clothe windows.."
Joined forever as one, from one starting love's warmth to another,
train on "crazy rails in need of redirection.."
Such souls see and hand over irreplaceable rider tickets
Clothe pieces of spirits joined as one - as tapestries .
Quilted generations bonded by their loving and sharing connections in Golden Spirited worth .
Heirlooms handed down between life's generations
New births of fresh spirits
Climbing the ladders of time
as cherished timeless gifts
Given to those whom he cares for
Bonded to even those outside a "family" pool
until the very last breath.
Spending not a dime.
He shall toil until his spirit leaves the Earth
Then such energies stay with those whom he cared for
All timeless and unmeasurable ticks of the clock
or sands of the hourglass
Light shines upon the extension of the cared one's family births
Therefor , he has always been earning a defined role
"The eternal force of caring.."
"The warrior's toll."
In edition to the medals of honor
Golden Wearable awards, given unto him, by the Creator.
Titled as the "Creator's Golden Heart" and "Love's earned Crown."
As written in the Latin Life's Wisdom Scrolls" as:
per "Creator aurei cordis" et "coronam meruit amor est scriptor
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 6:25 PM UTC
You see and then connect
From rebound to rebound, it’s all in your head
these broken souls, and misfortunate events
are completely suppressed, once you take them to bed
trapped in a body of sinful debt
the beast accepts weak minds, cash and credit
The walk of shame has evolved into respect
Pictures of every person that has touched your lips
crowds your newsfeed
just like your esteem
Because a connection now is nothing more than
false affection, redirection, and copious rejection
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
In the dark, yet the glare burns my eyes.
Silence, yet the screaming won't quiet.
My body is still, yet writhing in anguish.
Darkness, silence, stillness... This is the battle.
The old familiar lullaby of numb.
A beckoning finger, seducing me to depths of pitch black on a starless night.
I could sleep if the air wasn't stale.
I've been abandoned, yet I refuse to be the abandoner.
I cannot give that pain away. It is mine to own.
I am surrounded by love, yet alone every direction I reach.
Abandoned, pain... refuse, love, alone... Fight.
I cannot be selfish. Redirection is the only option.
I will not let go. Hold the pain close, never kiss the love with its sting.
Fight. With what weaponry? Armed with pain. Reaching, grasping for hope.
Protect the love. Do not let it fall to my fate.
Rebuild. Pain is my weapon. I could cause such harm, shove them all away.
If only I could reach, yet if I did, I'd take the pain from them, protect them,
And sacrifice myself to no end, but an endless cycle.
Fight, protect, rebuild... armed with who I am.
Gather the pieces. Put them together. Never in original form.
New stones, fresh mortar muddied with tears. Reach, to find each stone.
Drag it into place, carefully stacked, meticulous placement, calculated.
Construct not to protect me, not to hide, but to keep the love out of harms way.
Without love I am nothing.
Deny, refuse nothing.
Arms open, eyes wide.
Fight, for everything.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
is it wrong to want a bit of attention?
all I want
is a unique kind of connection
where I'm the only one in their eyes
eyes that are filled with dedication
towards me and me only
I wish somebody could give me a redirection
because I'm starting to feel selfish
and that's becoming a distraction
to my insecure lil brain
so I guess I'll just wait for my destruction
as I wonder what it takes
to not worry about my emotions
just to feel okay to feel selfish
with not even one restriction
Sep 14, 2024
Sep 14, 2024 at 5:56 AM UTC
Artificial stimulation zapping all imagination
Any creation or sensation lost in a noise of falsification
Cry to the nation so the population will rejoice with elation
That it is time to remove the isolation caused by the simulation
Simulation of free vocal amplification
Illusion and contagion of the authority’s rules and regulation
Solidification of these false ideals and therefore separation
From should be and what is- it’s horrification
The consumer’s attention faces new redirection
Guided meticulously by the producer’s invention
So our ‘choices’ aren’t choices but some chaos prevention
An anarchy intervention
An eluded operation executed by the organizations
A silent one sided war already won by associations, corporations and cooperations'
Verifications of strict policies and legislation
Followed of course by a strong litigation
What a celebration!
For select thoughts and their determination
Then the glorification
Of these upper class suits with some reputation
The voice of the people silenced with their unification
Stifling imagination
Essentially middle and lower robbed of vocalization
De-individualization, crumble fortication
Fine, its come down to this expectation
Of this twisted experimentation of freedom and selection
We’ll Bind together to form a protection of creativity, originality and our own perfection
So let us make this correction:
The one sided war is short lived and our individual minds will prevail, there is no question
For the minority majority will make a distinction
Between the choices given to us and our choices made with intention
Apr 15, 2011
Apr 15, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
I'm spinning and I may be bleeding
Disconnected from my nerves
My arteries line up for a cleaning
A redirection of their purpose served
It's winter in my heart
And though we're cold states far apart
I'll be your port in the storm
If after I save you; you carry me home
My neck is twisting with the walls
That must be closing in
They must be closing in cause I cannot grow tall
And I cannot divide from you
It's winter in my heart
And though we're cold states far apart
I'll be your storm in the port
If after I hurt you; you carry me home.
The windows stark above my head
They reach down with their silver threads
And twist round my neck sickly bright
A beacon in the darkest night
It's winter in my port
And though we're cold states far apart
You'll be my storm in heart
If after you hurt me we're finally home
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 9:58 PM UTC
The wrong eyes
Ignited
Butterflies.
A stolen caress
Disguised,
Denied.
Self- destroying words
Thought; scrawling,
Doubling, dying.
A love poem
Pens itself,
Redirection in desperation.
Because--
The wrong eyes
Ignited
Butterflies
Last night.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
Freud's Frantic Friends
Psychopathology
therapeutic techniques
free association
and tight **** cheeks
manic depression
afraid of my fate
you say it's okay
if I go ahead and **********
transference redirection
it's my daddy's fault
he was the one who told me
take the money from the vault
I can't stand up
but you say it's okay
I can blame someone else
for making me that way
it was a friend of a friend
that groped my crotch
it was his own dam fault
I stole his fancy watch
extreme hate rage and
parentification
general distrust
needs no elaboration
my mommy made me mean
so I take it out on you
cause you remind me of her
in everything you do
the way that you wiggle
when you go for a walk
I'm glad you stopped by
to have this little talk
Gomer LePoet...
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 6:54 PM UTC
As he grew he looked and desired,
others had more and he was tired.
Possession became his love and soul,
all those heaps could never fill the hole.
Glimpse the depts to find the cure.
We are here to Endure.
What did they do to deserve what they get?
His heart ached, he could never forget.
He wanted it more, he deserved much better.
He made his mind a filthy place to litter.
Pat your shoulder and reassure.
We are here to Endure.
Shunned by the universe,
he rose in a heroic verse.
Thought everyone else was bleak,
to himself did he lie and cheat.
Admit that you're insecure.
We are here to Endure.
He was hurt and he was blamed
he was never reclaimed.
At every turn he became aggressive.
Offended world would misconceive.
Repent, forgive and feel secure.
We are here to Endure.
Pressure drove him to frustration;
His yearning became his passion.
Disordered desire bind him in slavery.
Suffered he, in shame, sadness and misery.
Redirection is a manure.
We are here to Endure.
Low self esteem put him through hell,
disquiet apatite became his shell.
Departed away from the Divine.
Impoverishment and disgrace is a sign.
Abstinence will seize epicure.
We are here to Endure.
Failure left him without traction;
murmuring the songs of wishful imagination.
Dreams he sought are his anchor,
glued to the couch, he just hanker.
Without diligence you're immature.
We are here to Endure.
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
conflicted misdirection
abhorred nostalgic facade
clever impersonation
tales of redirection
insalubrious misrepresentation
a facetious misdemeanor
aggregated consciousness recalled
tempered with fear and mired respite
"not you" said wisdom
"only you" said the soul
"with you" said the mind
"where are you" wondered the heart
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
sure, *****
strut a pace
with the
subtle
redirection
of the
head.
spurs sharp
and maiden
blooded.
plumed fine.
head and chin
the red of
warrior men.
when set
to crow. cooped
low, this beast,
beak pushed
against
farmyard feet.
no.
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
Thoughts flow like a crow flies;
mind in flight; grasping at
life's insights, fumbling across
the sky; climbing out of urban
blights, embracing self, fore,
sanity is at stake.
Reaching for sanctity in His
light; patience a virtue giving
hope to mind's turmoiled
inner persecutions, seeking
redirection for self's own sake.
As the crow flies, His wisdom,
mind and soul willingly embrace.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
We buried our love in a shallow grave
And this lump in my throat is all that remains
Every word that we spoke now bleeding into reality
Carried away with my desire to be yours
Until there's nothing left for you and me
Nothing but my sick redirection to be hurt
Longing for the mirrored perspective
When I'll be able to forget
The look on your face
The obscured shadow in your eyes
When I left
Mar 2, 2011
Mar 2, 2011 at 5:23 AM UTC
"Transference is a phenomenon characterized by unconscious redirection of feelings from one person to another."
It's funny.
My addiction is coffee.
Or was coffee.
Now the person who makes my coffee
occupies my thoughts.
I need him.
I mean it.
Or him?
They say coffee is a powerful thing.
Or is that what they say about love?
I like love.
And coffee.
I'll have a Venti,
with an extra shot to the heart.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
A continuity of effortless mannerisms,
a cusp connected to the plague.
Zombies developing in the desolate plains,
roaming through streets,
implementing a quietus to civil beasts.
Fragile eyes fall upon cries,
the beggars fighting through darkness,
waiting for refuge, waiting to be rescued.
A cataclysmic rupture awakes,
provoking the urge to participate,
consumed by chaos, left behind to imitate.
Invoking subtle voices,
calling from a distance, caressing layers,
penetrating deeper through the shell.
A seed of knowledge planted, exfoliating the mind
an epoch of change, a doorway opened, a passage granted,
a new reign.
Sprouting directly through me,
a nuance shatters geriatric existences,
forcing drastic redirection,
conspiring an out burst, breaking the cocoon,
learning to levitate, traveling the universe,
vanishing from the ocean of lies
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
When a humble abode, redirects you
like the page redirection of gmail
to think your body is not more than
a container to get you the bail
Of the next life that you'd get
in the astral or the causal tree,
or perhaps you'll dissolve you bet,
in the ever flowing cosmic sea.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 7:47 AM UTC