it should be noted that girls don't always come from venus, that some boys might be a little deader than they were before they claimed you took their breath away.
some girls have barbed wire around their hearts, and others have white flags. some boys have touched more cigarettes than thighs, more blades in the bathroom sink than the ones in her shoulders. the city might whisper the name of one boy and tremble at the thought of another; a girl might  have a hit list with only one name on it — her own. some boys will **** just to say they lost their virginity and some boys will spend the rest of their lives making love as though they could gain it back; some girls have lost their tears and sweat in the upholstery of the same car that might belong to one of these boys — and some of those same boys are sweaty handprints on the backseat windows while others are fingerprints on your throat, but no matter how you look at it, he will always leave his mark, won't he?
it should be noted that some girls will miss you like hiroshima playgrounds miss the laughter of young children, but others will miss you like an 11:30 flight at 11:31, and i bet you never knew that some boys will never tell you that they miss their father just as much as some girls calling everyone else 'daddy' except for the one they truly need; you'd never believe me if i said that some girls look at the night sky where they used to see their reelection in the stars, but now only see another broken mirror.
it should be noted, that not all boys are from mars.

It should be noted that girls don't always come from Venus, that some boys might be a little deader than they were before they claimed you took their breath away. Some girls have barbed wire around their hearts, and others have white flags. Some boys have touched more cigarettes than thighs, more blades in the bathroom sink than the ones in her shoulders. The city might whisper the name of one boy and tremble at the thought of another; a girl have a hit list with only one name on it — her own. Some boys will **** just to say they lost their virginity and some boys will spend the rest of their lives making love as though they could gain it back; some girls have lost their tears and sweat in the upholstery of the same car that might belong to one of these boys — and some of those same boys are sweaty handprints on the backseat windows while others are fingerprints on your throat (no matter how you look at it, he will always leave his mark, won't he?)
  It should be noted that some girls will miss you like Hiroshima playgrounds miss the laughter of young children, but others will miss you like an 11:30 flight at 11:31, and I bet you never knew that some boys will never tell you that they miss their father just as much as some girls calling everyone else Daddy except for the one they truly need; you'd never believe me if I said that some girls look at the night sky where they used to see their reelection in the stars, but now only see another broken mirror.
  It should be noted, that not all boys are from Mars.

We've had enough
we want our boys home
there's no need for more dying
on battle fields all alone

These wars stealing lives
and not just of the soldiers
broken hearts of their families
dealing with new burdened shoulders

Dead, disabled
body and spirit
the families cry out ENOUGH
but our leaders don't hear it

Playing their politics
doing so for their profit
the war machine must continue
and reelection first on the docket

They've forgotten the people
the little guy no longer matters
since Citizens United
allowed these politicians new handlers

The ballot belongs to the rich
it's money stuffing the box
and one of these days
we'll find our country on blocks

I’m so excited about this election
about America and our direction

We’ll trust old men
to make big decisions
elderly men
of compassion and vision

Men who were there
when the work was done
when we went to the moon
and warred in Vietnam

A glorious age is at hand
we’ll be safe in those trembling hands

One who launched an insidious insurrection
Another who can’t follow simple directions

They will grasp what needs to be done,
our land will be free and efficiently run

We’ll trust old men
who think with precision
to keep us safe
with complex decisions

Men who were there
when the work was done
promoting corporate advantage
and environmental damage

A glorious age is at hand
we’ll be safe in those trembling hands

I’m so excited about this election
about America and our direction

After the human dream is gone
And we are born again in mythologies,
The sea, the forever sea will remain.
What is the sea? What brought forth
The liquidity both violent and old,
That which gives and takes life?
You are the sea, I am the sea,
And everything is new again washed
In the waters, blood and all.
The sea which is kissed by the
Reelection of the night
And drenched by the star during the day,
The ocean, vast and enigmatic,
We return and she will never answer.

unburdened by knowledge
or traditions of polite civility
some powermongers
     brazenly
demand attention of the media
force their way onto title pages
assuming that bland lies
     combined with contradictions
     and outrageous stupidities
     mostly echoing sycophantic TV news
will satisfy their followers
ensure their loyalty
and even guarantee
their reelection into higher office

     there is a tendency
     to underestimate ‘the people’

they usually take their time to watch
and talk  and reconsider
     after all
     one does not lightly
     throw away the expectations
     one has projected onto the preferred

then comes the point
when ruthless ignorance
      and greed for power
become too obvious
      too much

people no longer do approve

the powermonger tumbles from his throne
his reign remembered as a somber blob
in people’s history

Used to be
Simply
Reading 'riting 'rithmetic
Little kids sat and dreamt
But seems now
Since Columbine
Those letters stand
For running 'rithing react
Quickly to loud bangs
Lock the doors
Hide under desks
Wait for swat
Pray you make it.
Let's thank all the drugs
Given to kids
Since birth when they
Cry too much
Or throw a fit
Thank the NRA
And your on the dole
Senators and representatives.
Thank the mental health cutbacks
In the budget
Thanks deadbeat parents.
Thanks to society for
Making life the things we
Value least.
But hero's and martyrs
Have been made too,
Along with all the dollars
For reelection campaigns.
So, next time your child heads off
For school
Hug the ******* hell
Out of them.
It just may be
The last chance
You ever get
To tell them
That you love them.

Piecemeal, a Coronavirus poem
by Michael R. Burch

And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.
(A pale Piggy-Wiggy
will discount your death as no biggie.)

Keywords/Tags: coronavirus, plague, Trump, final, solution, stat, statistic, number, ratings, reelection

i ordered a bottle of local beer. they served me peanuts on the side.

for a joint this small they weren't one to skip entertainment.
sometimes they would host local bands.
sometimes they would have a dj.
sometimes they would host an open mic. they often weren't funny.

but often they would have just one man managing music.
he sat in the left of the stage, with a laptop and a mixer.
he always wore a denim jacket.
he was always served a bowl of nachos.
he always played the beach boys. at least once every night.

i didn't take him and the music in mind much.
even though i made music myself, i didn't take it in mind.
my business in the bar was always for the drink.
one drink, then leave.
i was a simple drinker.

what i did take in mind, however, is when the music stops.
i know that the rule within establishments was to always keep the speakers running.
the songs would often blend together, and songs that finished cleanly would always have a two second end gap.
no more, no less.

.

.

the music stopped in this particular night.
the group of teenagers singing pop chords halted in the middle of a chorus.
a second later the lead singer was on her phone.
another second and they were talking to the owner.

and after a moment, they left through the kitchen door.
they left their drums and their guitar.

i was one third through my drink.
i still had a dozen or so peanuts.
i called for the bill early.

and after a moment, the disk **** in denim entered through the kitchen door.
he took his stool from the left of the stage and set it in the middle.
he took the band's acoustic guitar and checked its tuning.
after a few moments he strummed away a song.
beach boys. god only knows.

i had no idea it could be played on a guitar.
he was no carl wilson, but brian would have been proud.
an acoustic guitar plugged into an amplifier loaded with reverb.
it saved the vibe of the night and everyone continued on drinking.

.

.

few months later i returned to frequent the bar again.
months before, i tried to quit drinking.

that didn't work, so i returned.
the bar didn't change.
the beer was still expensive.
i could still drink.

but now i'd look around a bit.
i'd stay longer in the bar to marinate.
i'd order different drinks, stay to watch the unfunny standup till the end, stay till the bell rings.
i would even talk to some of those who drink parallel to me.
small words. but sometimes they'd be interesting.

and i'd listen more to the music.
the bands that would play, the mix of the day, or even when they decide to just mic in the radio.
those were the months i decided to study music.
which meant listening.

.

.

the disk **** in denim played his usual set for this one
when he spilled his cup over the mixer.
and the music stopped in this particular night.

that set a few people aback when they heard the cup topple.
then everyone's attention was stirred after the music lagged and his mixer screeched.

but the dj kept his cool and quickly managed the situation.
he unplugged his peripherals to separate his laptop from the mess.
he took the mixer and set it aside, orienting it vertical to dry.
he took a cloth to the drink puddle so he wouldn't slip.

and after a few minutes of plugging in and setting up, he continued his playing.
he operated the mix on his laptop.
the continuing song
beach boys, don't worry baby.

that gave me a little chuckle then.
i finished my drink and ordered another,
so i could listen to the whole song.

.

.

i visited the bar days after the little incident. it seemed like the dj stopped working for a few nights, from what i can tell from bartender gossip and intuition.

i sat on the bar one afternoon and listened to both the radio and the bar gossip.

"yeah can i have one of these?" i ordered my usual.

"-----we didn't expect a reelection, especially since what we heard he done--" the radio blared as my drink was served.

"--he's not gonna be here for a few days, though, so you'll have to ask for your money in a while." the waiter told what looked to be the manager

"--news from california as an earthquake hit the area 12 kilometers from--" the radio blared as a couple walks in.

"hey, can i have peanuts?" i asked as the bartender approaches.

"---but to be fair, his mixer did break, so there's nothing much we could do and all---" he says as he hands me a plate of salted nuts.

i was taken aback. i finally knew who they were talking about. i kept my mouth shut as i listened to the sounds of the room.

"----relief efforts are being pushed as those who are displaced are--"

"--no i really didn't expect him to just leave, but i did know he had some girl trouble or somethin---"

"---news as oil prices skyrocket after the Bank of America---"

"---ehh that doesn't matter, but i didn't think of him as one who has troubles in paradise--"

"----Brand New Deals from the world's leading online market---"

"---still, does he have any other source of income? i thought his music work was just on the side and---"

i finished my drink rather quickly as their conversation went. i decided i've heard enough and left the bar.

.

.

i went around the malls during the afternoon. when night came i decided to go to the bar again. for a few more drinks.

i ordered a bottle of dark lager. they served me peanuts on the side.

there was a local band playing tonight. they sang a few ed sheeran songs and a couple pop songs from artists i didn't bother to learn the names of. it was a steady, casual night, and all the patrons were still and drinking.

i was seated on the left side of the bar counter. on the center was an old man, finishing his light beer. besides him was a teenager, in sketchy clothing, finishing a draft beer. on the rightmost side of the counter was a man in denim, drinking from a glass.

the two right in between of us stood and left, leaving me to stare at the man parallel from me. it was the disk ****, but today he looked like a customer.

i finished my beer and ordered another. i had the guts to change my seat near him. i struck a conversation.

"you're the dj in this bar, right" i said abruptly. he raised his head like he just woke from slumber. in hindsight, suddenly talking to him probably wasn't polite.

"yeah, yeah, i am." he said. he took a swig of his clear drink and gestured to the bartender for another. "i recognize you. You're a regular, aren't you?"

"yeah, i am." i said. "and i catch you a lot. when you mix and all. i like your playlist by the way." i took a swig of my beer.

"well thank you. not many say that." he says, as he takes another sip.

"no beach boys tonight?" i ask

"not tonight, i'm afraid."

"what do you think of tonight's music?" i ask him, suddenly. i took my peanuts and offered to share it to him.

"i think it's okay." he says, as he takes a handful from my plate. "you can tell the guitarist really likes the vocalist."

"hehe, he kinda does." i say.

"that's what they all have, musicians today. Lots of love." he downs his drink and gestures for another one. i could tell he was near drunk.

"what do you mean?" i ask him. the conversation turned nice.

"i see this band a lot often." he says. "i've talked to them, offered to help them mix once. They're good fellows."

"you're a working musician?" i asked.

"look, see how the vocalist makes eyes with the guitar man."

i chuckle. he shared that chuckle with me.

"i'm sort of a musician too." i told him. "i'm not a very good one, but i make music."

"oh, that's nice." he says, taking another sip. "lots of people are musicians, even those who just sing to their children." he says. "even the not so good ones. Lots of love, i say. These kids got ***** and heart to perform."

"and you?" i took a sip. "lots of love too?"

"Ha, yes!" his mood cheered. he stood straight and clapped as the song ends. i clapped with him.

"yes. Lots and lots of love." he says. "D'you think the guitarist and the vocalists likes each other for music or for romance?"

"well, i dunno. Do you?"

"Haha!" he exclaims. he takes another sip.

"well, i make music for the people i like, so..."

"as we do!" he downs his own drink.

the band was playing a slow, somber song.

"well, i'm a musician." he says. "i make music. i hang around in places, bars, parks. i hang out with friends. i have people i love."

he comes closer.

"if you make music, or art, or anything, you make it for people.
I make music, and i have someone i love.
and i make music for her. With her. About her." he takes a swig. "for her."

"it's not the same if it's not for anyone. Sometimes it doesn't feel right if you keep it to yourself. Hell, i think that's often the case."

"and she loves you for it?" i asked.

"her? she's wonderful. All i do is for her.
Just me and her and a guitar, i could not ask for a better audience."

the song ends. both of us clap.

"pleasure meeting you, good sir." he presents his hand for me to shake. "pleasure meeting a musician, and a regular."

"pleasure meeting you." i shake his hand.

he paid for his bill, and stands to leave. as he exits the door, i notice someone waiting for him. a girl, a bit younger than him. they embrace.

.

.

i haven't seen him play for the bar ever since then. though i'd like to  think he's doing pretty good anyways.

.

.

.

.

4/8 /2020

Today
Most Americans stayed indoors
With their hand sanitizer and bleach
While The Supreme Court
Made voting a game of Russian roulette
Today
John Prine
Joined Hank and Woody
In the Tower of Song
Today
Another 1,800 people died
While the president worried about his reelection
Today
a lot of brave people put their lives on the line to help the sick and dying
Tonight
I just want to Scream

By: Cedric McClester

Mr. President ain’t no way,
That I’m killing me okay?
I don’t care what you say
Even if it’s here to stay
I know you anticipate
Easter as a magic date
In spite of Coronagate
That will somehow seal our fate

Despite what the virus does
You want things the way they was
Could that be just becuz
It’s in your reelection claus
Beg your pardon, it’s quite gorie
Everything ain’t ***** dory
You’re really starting to bore me
Your prognostications are premature see

You’re more concerned with your wealth
Than you are with our health
And so you act as if by stealth
Against the interest of our commonwealth
But we now have a greater need
That clearly trumps you sense of greed
And we’re determined that you not succeed
With counting dollars while we bleed

The death rate is starting to mount
So fast that we’re losing count
Which clearly is tantamount
To you having zeros in your bank account
He has become such a bad actor
Through all of this, money’s his motivating factor
The Commander and Chief is a major distractor
Like dealing with a nuclear reactor




Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2020.  All rights reserved.

When dealing with a serious crisis,
We need a leader whose words inspire us,
Not one who tries to cover up facts
In dealing with the spread of a virus.

Coronavirus (COVID 19)
Around the globe is quickly spreading.
If we--the public--remain uninformed,
Into what dark abyss are we heading?

At first the president seemed less concerned
About our welfare--our protection--
And more concerned about how the matter
Affects his chances of reelection.

Downplaying the words of the experts,
He doesn't want the markets to panic.
If we aren't told the truth, however,
The consequences could be titanic.

Censoring the information
From health officials isn't wise.
We will be subjected to more
Of the Trump administration's lies.

For Mike Pence to lead the response
Doesn't make any sense at all.
When dealing with a health crisis
In Indiana, he dropped the ball.

Governmental agencies
Created to deal with crises as such,
Have been hollowed out by Trump,
Who has the reverse Midas touch.

The head of the HHS:° guess who.
A former lobbyist! Oh, yes.
And for big pharma. Watch him make
The crisis into a bigger mess.

Trump must be the protagonist
In every drama, someone has said.
While he blathers, how many people
Will die from having been misled?

A leader needs certain qualities
To fight all kinds of vicious attacks:
Honesty and competence--
Two important things ours lacks.

-by Bob B (2-28-20)

°Health and Human Services

By: Cedric McClester

He’s killing us
Don’t cha see
While talking about
What used to be
When there was
An economy
That he inherited
For free

He’s ignoring
Sound advice
While selling us
A dream that’s nice
Yet the death rate has
Doubled more than twice
While he continues
To roll the dice

He’s running for
Reelection
The.first time out
Was a bad selection
What we need
Is a resurrection
We can’t afford
His imperfection

How much more
Are we supposed to take?
When there’s a clear choice
That we could make
Aren’t we entitled to
Some kind of break?
I’m askin this
For all of our sake




Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2020.  All rights reserved.

At Norm's Save Station
551 Gravel Pike, Collegeville, Pennsylvania,
yours truly suddenly realized
fifty eight years earlier
(a preschooler living at Lantern Lane)
John Fitzgerald Kennedy assassinated
November 22, 1963,
12:30 post meridiem
Central Standard Time
as he rode motorcade,

through Dealey Plaza
in downtown Dallas, Texas.
The myth of Camelot
(a place and time
of idyllic happiness)
actually assigned
Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy (1929–1994)
shattered instantaneously
by Lee Harvey Oswald.

While thoughts caught up
with aforementioned tragedy,
Norm a congenial older man,
and proprietor of mechanic
gently interrupted somber reflection
informing me, an exhaust leak
(costing north of four hundred dollars -
that said dollar figure
merely covers price of part)
warranted immediate attention.

Though no connection
between series of unfortunate events
occurring not quite three score years ago
and earlier today
(even Lemony Snicket
would find himself baffled)
finagling two disparate phenomena,

whereby one hotmail
sought to jumpstart and kickstart
his quest for reelection in November 1964,
and one generic kook (me)
linkedin to Machiavellian repercussions
affected then young
shell shocked parents of mine

indeed helpless to explain senseless
killing, whence second youngest president
wantonly, violently, and tragically slain
leader of the free webbed world
even now defies believing
peace on earth and goodwill toward
all men/women can be realized

meanwhile most recent incarnation
of King Arthur experiences brisk business
evidenced courtesy since trigger
pulled by assailant
gunned down by Jack Ruby
(ironically sentenced to death),
which linkedin loosed bullets
birthed conspiracy theories galore.

Relentless desecration
of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
barely restrained by laws
dime a dozen murderous sprees
now rarely witness capital punishment
and offtimes find villain acquitted
even garnering accolades
after exhibiting crocodile tears
(think case in point:
Kyle Rittenhouse travesty of trial),
who killed two people
identified as 36-year-old

Joseph Rosenbaum, of Kenosha,
and 26-year-old Anthony Huber,
of Silver Lake, Wisconsin
Armed with with an AR-15-style rifle
purportedly and most likely intended
to empty unspecified number of rounds
lest why would a supposed
young law abiding citizen,
(and a minor at live crime time)
equip himself with full cartridge
if not to mow down innocent people?

I was loss in the vast wilderness
Trying to find my way
Here I am
Had no idea how I even got loss
I saw something and wanted to investigate
I guess that would be source of why I am in this situation
I wondered into the woods
I am where I stand
The sunset is taking effect and slowly going down
Darkness came quickly
I knew I was in the wrong direction
I worried and cried
I am giving anything a try
How would I find my way
I am so far into the woods and off the trail estray
I glanced at the Moon
It was as if the Moon was guiding me through the woods
The Moon showed me my own reelection
That was the right direction
Every step I made I felt caution
I wasn’t even thinking about being rescued
I knew I had to get back to the trail and onto the campgrounds where I was
Praying in between seemed to help
I knew I wasn’t alone
I saw a light in the distance, and it was the trail leading to the camp
Suddenly, I was back at camp and there were search parties looking for me
However, I arrived back safely and was welcomed back by my friends
The Moon’s wisdom and Heaven’s timing made everything alright.