“It is essential in order to protect societyfrom the ambition, greed, and malpractice or caprice of rulers to ensure the inviolatibility of even the humblest home.  The right and power of the private citizen to appear to impartial courts against rulings of the state and against ministerial decrees of the day.  Freedom of speech in writing, freedom of the press, freedom of combination and agitation within the limits of long established laws.  The right of regular opposition to government.  The power to turn out a government and put another set of men in its place by lawful and constitutional means, and finally the sense of every individual’s association with the state and of some responsibility with the actions and conduct of the state.”

So,
you decided to go back
your mind on rewind
back to the days
where you were basking in praise
“she’s so clever with her impeccable grades.”
Through chai-flavored breath, the news pervades
But even before their breath can recover from the first cup of tea
Another piece of news comes buzzing like a bee.
The news and their views float like paper boats
Clumsily they drift as it climbs up their throats
So easy it is for them to decant their advice,
Sometimes your personal opinion will more than suffice.

Now you sit prepped for the role you were made to obey
A woman, a daughter now you are made to relay
‘What a clever girl with a gifted source!’
So they decided its time for the accelerated course!
‘We like your daughter very much’ they said
A phrase young girls will always dread
‘It’s a good family’ your parents thought
So what are we waiting for! Let’s tie the knot!

Race past the basics, hypothesis and theories
Blindly trusting rulings without any queries
Your books, like yourself hold back their views
for being a daughter you must first pay your dues
They’ve found the divine answer so you can stop discovering
Your starry eyed youth reflected in the flashy hovering
Of women picking apart your choice of dressing,
While occasionally passing on their blessing
Bright scorching lights hang over your head
Your blush and foundation gradually spread,
Your proud family greets the guests with glee
You’ve been promoted to the next level, without a degree!

back on track
after two daughters you are finally twenty one
I guess we’ll just have to try again for a son…
“hmm what did you say” you ask so dazed
your complexion is dampened as you’re perpetually fazed
you keep staring down a path so dark and deep
a  path made void when you took the leap.
A doctor?  A poet or maybe a vet
But before you could decide the table was set
neatly laid out like a routine
now you can’t even recall when you were a teen
dark hollow rooms become your resort
lying in bed and brooding is making your sanity contort,
from what you were and what you have become
you wallow in distress as you have become numb
to the cries and needs of your child
the sounds that have you perpetually riled.

So I continuously wonder what brought upon such fate
She is a person before anything, especially a mate
Do not define her life before she grows into her skin
Only self - satisfaction brings upon that grin -
The one that we strive for throughout our existence
The one we proudly flash against any resistance

So give your girls a chance to stand on their own
Become their own person so they can never bemoan…
Or maybe sometimes they may
because us girls have our days
You know the ones that make all men say…
“Please God just take me away!”

So little girl I pray for your revival
you will find new meaning for your survival
“it’s never too late!” might be trite
but it is essential to help your mind ignite
and just in case you ever fall through a crack
always carry self worth in a backpack,
So you are always buoyed,
against the cavernous void.

Unfold the map of the world and trace
a kaleidoscopic boot-shaped country
rising from the waters lavished by Atlantic
in a multicultural basin at the heart

of a flat globe. The Mediterranean birthed
by the Zanclean deluge, witness of myriad
exoduses intertwining genes to encompass
peninsular cradles of early civilisations,

a medley of ethnicities trading goods
discoveries and ideas on sailing caravels.

Two thousand years later the remnants of
the Roman Empire vote, the democracy
they had co-founded two thousand years
before, on philosophies of justice, equality

and human rights. Power to the people,
lost in the process of history making,
populaces disillusioned and frustrated
at millenary successions of failed rulings

corroborated by corruption and personal
greed of those chosen to represent them.

Today Italians vote anti-establishment
thereby at long last rejecting ideologies
of the past, too old to bare credibility
electing a party set outside the box,

no left right nor centre, victory of populism,
communism and capitalism burned
at stake for their crippling sins albeit
international cold-war renaissance attempts.

Marking the end of the twentieth century
the twenty-first bets on the refreshing breezes
of new tantalising illusions, cuts to public debt,
income of citizenship, youth employment,

tax reductions campaigned to allegedly increase
family spending, for whatever we do we are
all bound by a unique reigning doctrine under
the unified global empire, of consumerism.

Answers for the bold,
Machination of desire and bone.
Twisting words with honest filth,
Answering by knowing.
Paled and withered words from mirrored faces.
Spite and curse upon your disregard.
Wraiths defying with sideshow horrors,
Corruption promised but always delayed.
With buttons of expected convenience,
You promise release.
Spit to your mucus.
Rage to your withered rulings.
Bladed aphorisms to your faced extremities.

Riddle in Rhymes,
During Corona Times
By Toxic Detective for Indian Society of Toxicology (IST)
Vomiting is nature's protective reflex against ingested toxins with my bitter alkaloids, accidental by innocent kids,
Bitter is Killer 💀, As a thumb's #rule, in medical science; but most of life saving medications are also bitter 👅, instead;
Vomiting after ingesting me, protects you medically as well as legally, in court of law leads;
Prehistoric #judicial systems determined guilt or innocence in a legal #trial, for human misdeeds;
By subjecting the accused to a dangerous experience, traditionally known as “trial by #ordeal” misusing my seeds;
Whether one survived such an ordeal poison of mine,
was left to control of divine,
to be freed;
and escape or survival was taken to indicate innocence on behalf of the defendant, instead;
The roots of this custom lie in the Code of #Hammurabi and the Code of Ur-Nammu, the oldest known systems of law, reads;
Numerous West African tribes from #Calabar, depended on my toxic bean in jurisprudence, in needs;
Also renowned as ordeal poison or #lie-detector bean, for rulings in their early courts, impledes;
Tribal #Nigerians, misused toxic action of my beans to detect witches & people possessed by evil spirits, who concedes;
#Judicators, would feed numerous seeds, what they called “ordeal poison,” to the accused; if he or she was innocent, indeed;
Hypothetically, God would perform a miracle and allow the accused to live—and the court would have its ruling, proceeds;
If the reverse was true, of course, guilt would be “proven” the moment its sentence was successfully carried out, in recede;
I am a climbing leguminous plant in forests, can be poisonous to humans when chewed, as beads;
I am a large, herbaceous perennial vine, with a woody stem at the base, as natural weeds;
I produces a large, purplish flower with intricate visible veins; attracting innocent Kids;
My flowers yield a thick brown pod of a fruit, contains 2-3 kidney-shaped seeds;
it’s not until rainy season (June through September) that my fatal plant Breeds;
In monsoons, my fruits, capable to produce its best, most toxic beans; indeed;
I am named botanically by appearance of my fruit “a snooping beak-like solid appendage” physo- means “bladder,” at the end of the stigma Beaked;
My toxin is reversible cholinesterase inhibitor, which acts on the autonomic nervous system, leads;
My poison disrupts communication between the nerves and organs of victims, it needs;
In this regard, I acts similarly to nerve gas, which results in contraction of the pupils, recedes;
Profuse salivation, convulsions, seizures, spontaneous urination and defecation, exceeds
Loss of control over the respiratory system, and ultimately death by asphyxiation, as due to secretions, airway blocks & impedes;
Antidote to my poisoning is the slightly less toxic tropane alkaloid atropine, which may often succeeds;
Though myself toxic, my alkaloid proves an effective antidote for poisoning from another deadly plant, Atropa Belladonna seeds;
Guess my name, causing Vomiting, as Lie detector for your means: when an Ordeal poison, impleads;

Horton’s Bend
Dave Davis-2013
Treat the earth well,
It was not given to you by your parents.
It was loaned to you by your children.”
Native American Proverb

Chapter 1
During the early part of the 16th century, the Spanish began their expeditions into the New World in their quest for riches in the form of gold and silver. It was a time of great competition between explorers attempting to be the first to expand the Spanish Empire. Famously Ponce de Leon discovered La Florida in 1533 which allowed geographers and map makers to better outline the coast which de Leon hugged during his travels. His perception that it was an island misled geographers for a number of years. Historic documents do describe a quest for a body of water which was known for a restoration of vigor but the Fountain of Youth was not a focus of de Leon’s. Upon learning of La Florida, further expeditions were made ready. Hernando de Soto’s exploration, which began in the vicinity of present day Tampa Florida in 1539, was a four year journey which provided more information about the strange new continent.
Other expeditions filtered their way into the southeastern United States. Expeditions such Tristan de Luna de Arellano traveled into the interior southeast from 1559 to 1561 including the chiefdom of Coosa in Northwest Georgia and Juan Pardo who led two expeditions into the present day Carolinas are also chronicled.

What a strange world it must have been having stepping into what they must have considered an undeveloped and tangled landscape having been at sea for months prior to their arrival. These new comers were warriors riding into a land of what they considered savages ruled by mighty chiefs. The chiefdoms were purposely distanced apart in order to ensure a semi peaceful relationship with nearby chiefdoms. Each principal chief or cacique lived in areas surrounded by earthen mounds and fortified walls with hand dug moats. These rulers were presented with gifts of corn, exotic materials from foreign lands, and other tributes by their subjects. During the past seventy five years, archaeologists have reconstructed the past life ways of these people through their excavations of village sites and burials. Coupled with the work of dedicated historians, we now have a better understanding of how these native peoples lived and died. We will never fully understand their world.
Theirs was a hermetic world which was provided all that was needed. Respectful of the land and its gift of life giving resources, the native peoples were dependant on the land which figured prominently into their spiritual being. Their needs were meager as they did not desire wealth or the need to satisfy a gluttonous royalty. The principal chief’s rulings were simple and they obeyed without question. He and the other leaders asked only what the earth would provide. Their only loyalty was to the ethereal gods and to the cacique who communicated the will of the Creator. In times of famine or strife, theirs was a community that continued to be self sustained as it had always been from birth to death. They must have considered that dark times had arrived with the new strangers. These interlopers were not here to commune but rather to bring greed and lust to their land.

Native American groups surely were frightened by the sight of an entourage of the bearded new comers. Dressed in quilted shirts with bright colored sashes with tall hip boots, their appearance had to be most curious to the natives. The presence of never before seen animals such as the horses bearing the soldiers were cause enough for the Indians to scatter from their villages. The horsemen wore the heaviest armor consisting of chain mail or if preferred a breastplate of sorts. Their weapons were a long lance in conjunction with a small shield. The foot soldiers wore peaked steel helmets along with quilted shirts armored with small steel plates and were equipped with sharpened steel weapons such as short double edged swords, halberds, and crossbows. Matchlock guns were also a weapon employed by the Spanish explorers. They were close combat weapons which would have to suffice since heavy artillery could not be used in the thick and tangled environment.
The Spanish found the New World to be a land of hardships when they depleted their supplies of foodstuffs between chiefdoms. This land proved not to be a place of abundant riches but rather difficult terrain for pedestrian journey. In order to supplement the Spanish took the stored food supplies that Indians had readied for winter. As Old World warriors, they had no hesitancy to threaten or harm when supplies were needed. Word of their arrival brought both fear and awe to native groups who were duped by the rich lies and gifts of the metal objects that was so foreign to them.
While the devastation of Spanish contact impacted native lives, it should not over shadow the rich history of these people. Prior to contact, they were thought to be involved in the construction of a society emerging from the chiefdom level. Their capability to understand astronomical constants, their ability to sustain an agricultural culture, and the art produced attest to a vibrant society that was merely unfortunate to be caught up in a dynamic European expansion that was inevitable.  
Their story is more than that of European contact as they dealt with pestilence, political instability, drought, and dwindling resources in large communal sites. It comprises a much larger picture from a story long forgotten in a language that will forever remain unknown. History is filled with the tragedies of conquest but this story does not end with the Spanish invasion of peaceful natives. It does not end at all because their spirit was stronger than any intrusion by the strangers. While much suffering has occurred from this contact, there was one group who managed to avoid conflict and quietly retain their heritage. Unfortunately time has left a ragged history with gaps that are not fully understood by those who seek wisdom from the past. No matter. Their intentions regarding history were never as strong as their passion for the land.

On an unknown date during the 16th Century in Northwest Georgia, a group of Spanish invaders made contact with a group of Native Americans who believe in the sacred ground they call home.



Chapter 2
Ronnie King sat on the tailgate of his 4x4 pickup and drained the last of an ice cold Budweiser that had been waiting on him all day. Ronnie kept a cooler full of cold ones for quitting time although he usually just drank the one beer before leaving for home. Working as a foreman on a timber crew, he was soaked in sweat and enjoyed just taking a moment to reflect on a day’s work. He always felt like a man who could tote a chainsaw for eight hours and deal with the elements was a man by God. The sun would be setting soon and he would talk to a few of the boys before they headed to the house. It also gave him time to unwind a little bit and to pick off the ticks that seemed to always be attracted to him. He sure hadn’t forgotten that bout of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever that had contracted a few years back. He remembered well how dizzy he was that hot afternoon. Some of the boys had chuckled but nobody scoffed at his 107 degree temperature when he was checked into the hospital. Anyways this was the best part of the day and he always got to thinking about his life.

Ronnie loved his job and wondered how others could ever work inside all day. Hell, even if he was paid more he couldn’t really see the benefits of extra cash compared to working out in the woods. More than once he had paid attention to deer signs and had bagged some bucks that were the envy of his fellow workers. It was just a great deal to be outside. Sure he ached pretty good by the end of the week and knew arthritis was in his future but it gave him a great opportunity to do what he really loved: look for Indian sites. Ronnie had been just a boy when he found his first arrowhead down on the floodplain of the Coosa River which ran through his grandfather’s farm. That thrill was one that never got old for the young man. Those who are observant and willing to risk the mud never knew what they would find after a good thunderstorm on a freshly plowed field. As Ronnie grew to be a teenager he already had a collection of artifacts that the local museum drooled over. Other kids that were Ronnie’s age were busy playing football or were involved in some school activity. Ronnie was different and had little interest in neither scholastic nor collegiate pastimes. Once he finished his chores at home,  he headed for the river.

When Ronnie graduated from high school he got a full time job working at Patterson’s Logging. At 18, Ronnie was a tall man with a full beard and was often mistaken for someone much older. He never was a big talker or one to boast. Many at school thought him slow but that was where he fooled them and the teachers too. No reason to give your all since they would expect more anyway. Besides what would he do with trigonometry? He loved the outdoors and spent quiet evenings along the river banks staring at the ground in search of the history that he loved. Teachers didn’t spend much time on how Indians lived during the time that the mounds were being built. He enjoyed books at the library much better than any of the school books. In particular, he loved the book Sun Circles and Human Hands which had wonderful pictures of burials dug up during the WPA days. He did take the time to learn how the Works Progress Administration had been created in the 40’s and created jobs to work on the large dam projects that brought on some of the earliest organized archaeological projects in the United States. At night he would look at Sun Circles and gaze at the pictures of the excavated burials and all the exotic grave goods that had been buried with the interred over 500 years before. The well made pottery vessels had always been one of his favorite artifacts but he had never found a whole ***. Having spent time with different books loaned from the library, Ronnie know the difference between pottery sherds dating to the earlier Woodland Period and those that dated to the later Mound builders or what the archaeologists called the Mississippian Period. He also enjoyed the ornaments and jewelry found in the burials. The designs in the shape of woodpeckers, rattlesnakes, and strange squatting men with eagle claws were carved into shell gorgets that were found around the necks of the nobles of the village. He realized that not all graves contained abundant artifacts as some simply were just a prone or flexed body that must have been a common person. Ronnie knew that there had to be some schools here in the south where you could learn to be a paid archaeologist but who had money to go to college? Besides, they might want him to give up what he found. What right did a museum have to something he had found? No, that didn’t seem right at all.
Patterson’s Logging worked all over a tri-county area and allowed Ronnie access to private property that he could never get permission to walk over. There were a dozen men who worked for Patterson not including Patterson’s boy, Ricky, who had helped Ronnie get hired. Ricky and Ronnie used to do a little cat fishing on weekends. Kicked back with a six pack on a boat ramp, the boys used to fight off the bugs attracted to the lantern glowing bright in the middle of the night. They talked about girls they’d like to get a hold of and wishing they had money for a nice pickup. Ricky’s daddy made pretty good money but most of it was ******* in chainsaws and equipment for keeping the logs steadily flowing to the saw mill. Ronnie never told Ricky but he was **** grateful to be working on a crew at Patterson’s.

A couple of the men who worked for logging outfit were from Cedartown which was located south of Rome. They didn’t speak to anybody very often and pretty much kept to themselves. Ronnie didn’t know them but had heard them called Jarvis and Ladge. The crews had finished logging a section near Armuchee Creek where some county workers had been using bulldozers to prep the area for a bridge project. It was time for lunch so everybody got out their lunchboxes and sack lunches. Jarvis and Ladge ate quickly and headed out to the disturbed area to walk it over. Ronnie had already figured on going out there too but they had beat him to it. He just went ahead and watched them looking for a few minutes. Finally Ronnie headed out and walked around a little distance from them. They glared at him at first but didn’t make a ******* contest out of this patch of dirt. Having walked around staring at the fresh soil for a good ten minutes the three were somewhat close to each other so they stopped and everybody wanted to inspect what the others had found.
Ladge had found a few good sized flint chips and a broken tip of a point. Jarvis looked at him and said “Buddy you ain’t found **** look at this piece of pottery!” He held up a large thick rim sherd which had pinched marks all around the curved rim. “Nice one Jarvis” whistled Ladge. “That’s a Mississippian sherd, Jarvis” offered Ronnie. The others stared at him until Ladge said “Boy this ain’t Mississippi! You in Georgia.” Ronnie didn’t want to be a smart *** to the older men so he said “I been reading in some books on ancient Indians and the pictures showed pottery that looked just like that one that was near 500 years old.” “Huh” Jarvis mumbled “Well what do you think about this bird point?” It was a small triangular point no bigger than a thumbnail made of black flint. Ronnie hesitated a moment and told them “That’s a nice one but you know they didn’t hunt birds with those don’t you?” The men just shrugged and Jarvis said “That’s what I always heard them called……that the Indians used a blow gun and blew them through it”. Ronnie was a little more confident but with a little caution said “That point was used on a bow and arrow…..you know how most points you find have a stem on the bottom end?” Both men nodded with interest. “Well those were used on spears but this type was used on a bow….bout the same time as that sherd you found”

Ronnie thought he might be scoffed at but both men just shrugged and one mumbled “Well I’ll be ******”. Ronnie then realized that Jarvis and Ladge’s interest was just in one upping each other and it was something to do besides talking to the other loggers. “I’d like to look at one of them books you been reading…..I got something I found and want to know more about it.” Ronnie’s interest was peaked and asked “What does it look like?” Jarvis tilted his head a little while looking over at Ladge and said “Just bring that book of yourn’s when you can.” Ronnie took the hint and all three realized it was time to start on the next parcel of the project.
As the work week continued, the three usually sat together and formed a group of their own talking about artifacts away from the others. Ronnie brought one book in but it was from some work over in Alabama and didn’t have what Jarvis was looking for. One Friday after work, Ronnie was about to head home when Jarvis and Ladge asked him to take a ride down to Cedartown and look at their collection. The two had a little cabin out off of Chubb Road with a rusted 49 Ford sitting out front. A metal trash barrel smoldered in the front yard. Ronnie walked in the cabin and had to choke back holding his nose as it reeked of sourness. These two ol’ boys were true bachelors who were not ones to throw out clothes until they fell apart. It was just sometimes they didn’t feel like picking up anything from a pile that had lain in a corner for a couple of weeks. Jarvis walked to a chest of drawers and opened it and asked Ronnie to come take a look. Ronnie looked in the drawer and saw a collection of artifacts typically found in the area. The material ranged from large Savannah River points dating back some 5,000 years to more of what the boys had termed “bird points”. Ronnie picked up a partial *** with check marked stamping and smiled. “This is a nice one….I’ve seen fragments like this on the Oostanaula.” He added “It’s from what is they call the Woodland Period”. Ladge smiled a big toothless smile and proudly proclaimed he had f

By: Cedric McClester

Once upon a time
You would find
Them believing in
A different paradigm
Before the government
Was put up for sale
By a nine member panel
That we used to hail

Government for sale
Government for sale
They are determined
That the rich don’t fail
The Supreme Court has ruled
So now all hail

It seem to me
They need a babysitter
Our government’s been sold
To the highest bidder
Read  all about it  
On Instagram or Twitter
While I lick my wounds
And go to the *******

Government for sale
Government for sale
They are determined
That the rich don’t fail
The Supreme Court has ruled
So now all hail

I know what you’re saying
It’s insane
They’ve thrown our founding principles
Down the drain
And they don’t seem to care
How much pain
That their rulings cause
Because the fact remains

Government for sale
Government for sale
They are determined
That the rich don’t fail
The Supreme Court has ruled
So now all hail

(3rd Verse)
The people will rise up
Wait and see
And it won’t be pretty
Listen to me
All you have to do
Is check out history
Because what I’m saying
Is no mystery

Government for sale
Government for sale
They are determined
That the rich don’t fail
The Supreme Court has ruled
So now all hail
(Repeat chorus 2xs and fade)
































Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.

What is this world we live in, with no real rules or regulations, but still having a guideline? Having a sense of freedom, but yet, you don't. Look around this would and you'll see the pain and suffering of the broken and poor, and the unjust rankings of today's wealthy. This isn't a world we live in, it's a prison. A prison of our self doubts and beliefs of ourselves. A prison that we ourselves have made to make sure we all keep in line. But yet this isn't a prison as we all have freedom. So why don't we use it? Because we can't. We're told we can't. As children were told to follow orders of people above us, so we all fall in line and look like one. To become the perfect creation of man. But **** your rules, **** society. I am my own free will. Why follow a broken justice system, just because your told to? Why conform to other people's norms so you can believe your Happy? Be who you want to be, don't listen to the cowardliness of change, as you are your own free will

The mind- a blank canvas for some.
To throw hues of joy upon their spirits
and color their souls for the world to gaze in awe.
The mind- a steel cage for the rest.
Subjected to the wills of the many
whom steal their innocence and
tear down their carefully constructed walls.
These people, they try to control something with concrete thinking
and dogma, but the world is anything but controllable.
I see their rulings as fear. They live out of fear, I out of love.
Who is the real ******* enemy now, huh?

Family if forever,
Weather I like it or not,
It is a bond unbreakable,
I will forever be stuck with this lot.

Sure, I must admit,
Family can be annoying,
They sometimes make you loose it,
But this way life never seems too boring,
Because they will never let you quit,
They want to see you soaring!

Family can also be outside of blood,
Since I have my friends too,
I have my new and old buds,
Including little old you.

I have my Sunday friends also,
What a joy that always is,
I have old instructors steps to follow,
And teachers rulings to learn in order to take up any quiz!

I see God's love in all these people,
Friends, family, and parish,
In them I see no evil,
As they all love me so much,
Threw God's work and threw their own way,
All with a gentle touch,
They make sure I don't stray away,
And on the path of God I stay.

the world scares me, health alerts and studies from scientists who tell you water is no good for the brain, but wine and alcohol may make you smarter. BREAKING every 25 seconds from some idiot who doesn't even pay taxes, but can cut funding from people who need to eat while he eats horses smaller than me. Looking up remedies for headaches, but I am instead given symptoms of aneurysms and malignant brain tumors.

the world scares me, terrorists ruined flying so now everyone gets molested. the poor and middle class are best friends now with them trading spaces and hiding in plain sight. Protests that change rulings but doesn't change people, and people who only want to be seen and heard but offer nothing worth hearing.

the world annoys me, its condescendingness. Humans who believe themselves superior to the animals they learned to procreate from. Mother Nature sending out several warnings for an impending doom not knowing most of us are praying for it. the few humans who care about this world, suffer the most. The chiefs and activists who work for nothing but peace, and end up with wars.

the world destroyed me. it made me hate everything, even myself. i blame it for its ability in creating the world's most crappiest people to the world's most beautiful. i blame it for wiping the smile of children's faces. i blame it for allowing me to hurt myself and others in more ways than one. i blame it for allowing me to hate people who love me and love people who wouldn't spit on me if i was on fire.

the world scares me and i would like a do over.

In the land of darkness
Trees, fruits, and harvest
Rivers, plants, and storms
A land evil has taken form
Was once peace, crazy, and wild
Only lasted for a while
The dragon the band wagon
Dragging bodies seizing properties
Manipulating armies
Enormous platoons
Under control like cartoons
In the Devil's saloon
Dancing to his diabolic tune
His gigantic company marches
A melting *** risin hot slowly rot
A mass number tide by the neck
Their outcomes a wreck
Smacked on the face
To be put in their place
Slaves to a palace
Whipped pimped crippled to limp
Once the dragon fulfills
Bursting flames begin to ****
There is no need
For human filth to lead
Now I shall proceed
My means for concentration
May leave numerous devastated
New world order is reinstated
Renovated Innovated elevated
The miracle healer
People draw nearer
Too much said
I'm somewhat dead
When proof is read
The rulings have misled
A death bed like sadistic dread
Where the weak are led
Law eat up what is fed
Don't believe me? ask ted
He can back up what I just said
About the blinded minded dead

The preachers are speaking
Of how all will be fine
If you hear the speeches
Of those so Devine

Follow their rules
Their judgements and rulings
Don't be your own person
It's yourself your fooling

We promise the world
If you just be a good number
Just Do as we say  
So as to enjoy your final slumber

So the believers are free
But only after death
You must follow their rules
But where is freedom till then?

Two lovers can't be
For they shouldn't
In the eyes of he

Don't say what you think
For only the divine one
Can know everything

The atheists are free
In the living realm
But who doesn't wonder
What If there's really a hell

But even if it exists
Our lives are defined
By the memories we make
In this current time

Without godly restraints
We make our own choices
We stand up in crowds
And people listen to our voices

We pride ourselves
On acts of individuality
But don't get me wrong
We still understand morality

So I riddle you this
Who is happiest
The religious or the atheist

Let's sing a tale of honor and valor,
Of a legal trailblazer who always will be
Etched in our hearts as a fighter for causes
And known as Notorious RBG.

Criticized and sharply rebuked
For taking a "man's spot" at Harvard Law,
She had a legal intellect
And a glowing work ethic that left folks in awe.

Graduating first in her class
From Columbia Law, she would soon learn
That getting a job wouldn't be easy;
And unequal pay was a major concern.

The fearless fighter wouldn't give up.
Bound and determined, she'd do what was right
And struggle for women's equality.
Justice for all was her noble fight.

Nobody's put on a pedestal;
Equality means that treatment's the same.
That BOTH men and women have full
Citizenship stature was RBG's aim.

Her friendship with Justice Scalia showed
That politics did not have to divide us--
That we can conquer our disagreements
By letting our heart and wisdom guide us.

Words are important when sending a message.
That is what RBG took to heart.
In facing personal challenges,
Her inner strength played such a great part.

For many years she battled cancer
But never failed to keep up with her work.
Responsibility and duty
Were two things that you didn't shirk.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg: how we will miss her!
With sadness and heavy hearts we lament.
How we will miss her carefully thought-out
Rulings as well as her words of dissent!

She died on the eve of Rosh Hashanah
While folks were in the synagogues praying.
They say that righteous people die then.
With RBG, that goes without saying.

Remember this tale of honor and valor,
Of a legal trailblazer who always will be
Etched in our hearts as a fighter for causes:
Supreme Court Justice RBG.

-by Bob B (9-22-20)

seems that you are trouble, is that correct?

yes.



it seems you need to let the birds sing

& not eat them?



i was hungry.



she came here angry & shaky at what you had done.

she doesn’t get that you are wild ones & do not know

her rulings on food.



does she eat animals though?



i expect so

&

her husband catches fish

To describe it, I begin,
Claustrophobic, all closed in,
Slowly smothered, looking out,
Nervous, frustrated, tied about,
My throat restricting, makeshift noose,
Safety is it? Your excuse?
Discomfort growing, concentrate,
Get it done with, far to late,
Senses subdued, my hazy mind,
I try escaping but I find,
My hands are useless, far to weak,
To bring the justice that I seek,
My heated breath to agitate,
The ties that bind me, cut and grate,
Lashing outward, what’s the use,
These poor *******, same excuse,
Trapped and bound my very soul,
Tyranny demands a toll,
Hide me under, suffocate,
Constrict, confine me, blackest fate,
Oppressive rulings to conform,
Slavery becomes the norm,
Stifled air and muffled voice,
I tell you this is not my choice,
Forbidden faces, jaws set tight,
Eyes are narrow, hands can fight

It is in the too small house with its too big furniture,
and it is on the bus where I sit and the train where I stand.
It follows me around; a thick grey smoke of nothingness.
Some days it is consuming, swallows me, envelops me in its arms
in a hug that feels like suffocation. I suffocate, hushed.
It is there when I stand in the bathroom cubicle, cold,
empty and alone. It is behind me like the puppeteer and here
I stand, the delicate marionette with her oh so fragile
limits of flesh and skin, real and alive and crying for mercy.

I cannot change it, though I wish it would leave me at peace,
but instead, it takes its bitter time and through its fingers,
my own sanity falls like sea-green sand. In the mornings
I wake up heavy; it is lying on top of me, and all my effort
goes into getting up. Suffering, every day the same as yesterday
as the people who surround me wonder, what it is?
She is loud in her questioning; unforgiving, with the aftermath
of a nuclear leak, invisible and deadly and ever so toxic.

She takes a distinct dislike to it, but it channels itself through
my own body, my own spirit and soul. I am the marionette;
all strings attached. And so She turns on me with Her beady
eagle eyes that watch everything I do, and in her head, She
makes Her judgements. Her divine judgements, Her divine rulings.
It taunts Her, and She feels it and rejects its presence because once,
it was a part of Her. It holds me in its arms and tells me
all the ugly in the world, and all its evils. I want to be held
by something, and so I let it. But Her anger is plentiful, crimson.

I am often alone with it. It helps me think of all the small things,
and all the bigger things too. It opens avenues in my mind,
dangerous avenues, avenues of death and ways to bring it about.
It is there when I am alone in bed. It is there in the day and all day
it shadows me and plagues me and haunts me and it scares
away the people who dare come near, but it holds me with love
like a mother should hold Her child, with its’ tender embrace.
And I crave that touch, the vestigial happiness I feel in it despite
the fact its fingers touch me with coldness and nothing else.

She is growing agitated with its presence. I wish it would leave,
leave me alone and leave me be; but it stays, clings.
It wants something from me, that I cannot give,
it longs for my death and I begin to long for it too for it is powerful
in its persuasion. I am blamed for its shortcomings and She,
unsettled, stands with hatred for it. I know they have history,
for it whispers me tales of truth in my dreams,
far from sweet as they are, bittered and calloused by knowledge.

It grows stronger within me and as it waxes, I wane.
The singing stops one day, eating the next, holing up alone is now
not undesirable, but a wish. I wish that everything could stop.
It is still not content, taking more and more of me away;
She is discontented – Her old vices do claim – and out She takes
that anger and discontentment unto me. It eggs her on.
It fills me with emptiness and Her with blame.
But when She said that the quiet was because of me,
She was ignorant to the silence that followed Her.