"snitching" poems
☮ ☮ ☮
**Society needs more Social Justice.
Humanity needs peaceworkers.**
Peace and Social Justice must be promoted aggressively. There are inequities that must be addressed. Power is not equally distributed. Neither are resources or wealth. Neither are poetic gifts or vision equitably distributed. Unearned privilege is rampant. Poetry must confront this global crisis of capitalist exploitation and manipulation. Poetry must speak to the masses. Poetry must radicalize and inform consciousness to new levels of social change. Marginalized citizens must be empowered. All ****** gender-based, racial, religious, age-based, homophobic, xenophobic, and gynophobic bigots must be brought to see in a new way through our poetry. Community building and local empowerment are of the order. Our poetry must be global in scope – yet rooted and grounded in local community empowerment. Selfless acts of service to promote and increase Social Justice are needed. Lives selflessly devoted to establishing social justice are called for. Our poetic lives must be laid on the altar of the dis-enfranchised and unrepresented. We, as consciously aware poets, must advocate and speak out for those who have no voice.
We, as poets, must, through stirring words of Social Justice, embody through our radical verses the burning hope of a just and sustainable future. This future must become increasingly collective as formerly marginalized consumers become empowered community-builders – through our poetry. As poets of the sustainable future we will empower and inform. Our poetry must collectivize, entitle and enslave. We must speak with ONE VOICE: the voice of change and social justice. Our words will rise with healing in their wings and lift whole communities from despair to radicalized self-awareness in communities filled with strident, intolerant and maniacal practitioners of PEACE & SOCIAL JUSTICE. All poets who do not lay their entire creative and lyrical selves on the altar of struggle to bring CHANGE and SOCIAL JUSTICE will be LIQUIDATED by our own EMPOWERED POETRY. IN THE END WE WILL WRITE A PURE POETRY OF SOCIAL CHANGE, ALL IN CAPS, AND THIS POETRY OF SOCIAL JUSTICE AND EMPOWERMENT WILL BE READ OVER THE GRAVES OF ALL SELL-OUT, CORPORATE, FASCIST, SNITCHING, SELFISH, UNEMPOWERED AND UNEMPOWERING TRAITORS AND ENEMIES OF SOCIAL JUSTICE. IN THE END THERE WILL BE NO PUNCTUATION OR EVEN WORDS ONLY PURE IMAGES OF CHANGE + VISIONARY COLLABORATION IN SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION/MAYBE SLASH MARKS/OKAY MAYBE EXCLAMATION POINTS TOO BUT ONLY THOSE !
WHY? BECAUSE THE ONLY GOOD POET IS A LIVING POET WHO HAS LIQUIDATED EVERY FALSE POET NOT COMMITTED TO THE STRUGGLE FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE !
LONG LIVE POETRY IN ACTION THROUGH CHANGE!
WRITE/SPEAK/AGITATE
FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE & EMPOWERMENT !
**POETRY IS STRUGGLE☻
STRUGGLE IS CHANGE☻
CHANGE REQUIRES SOCIAL JUSTICE☻
SOCIAL JUSTICE BRINGS PEACE☻
PEACE BRINGS WAR☻
WAR BRINGS CONFUSION & DEATH☻**
(SO DON’T BE CONFUSED)
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Reality hanging by a thread.
Coke cans and cannons by my bed.
Show girls shooting up to the head.
Solace for the strong, seizures for the dead.
Pac in the boombox
If the packs don't boom I hope the boom pops.
If the boom don't pop she got a new pops.
Red lips serving blows up on the new blocks.
Humble pie in my abode in a bid to abide.
But the coke on the stove says the law is a lie.
Caught slipping, no snitching so my name shall survive.
Out in 10, when I return
Throw some paper to the sky, let the wind and caution colide.
I'll need a long island on the rocks.
Escape the piles we turn to rocks.
We held their lives within our glocks.
The doors were locked so we turned to the knocks.
Boys in the hood with the little coke babies.
Girls in the hood holding little hope babies.
Daddy never came but we live in hope baby.
All I had were bricks, had to build a home baby.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
She hushes me repeatedly
as if my voice could be– too loud
for these shrunken, elder walls
What voice can I revive to tell her
that this little place...reminds me...?
Ratchet up the memories
the young mistakes
my welfare “townhouse”
as if my voice could be too loud?!
Where does anger go to say
These cheesy rugs remind me!
of the smoky halls, stoop-sittin’
head lice, **** roach
fumigated invasion
Music loud enough to blow pipes
induce trauma through the walls
Thud Crash
“Stupid ****
Knife-weildin’, drug-sellin’, boyfriend-of-a-future
A can of beer later...
with stress on hold
the smells of dinner, now—all fifteen of them!
Assault me through the front window
“Ya there yet?
...to this “cute little apartment, I mean?"
So it’s sold…
Someone else will wash windows, rake the yard
Shovel Massachusetts snow
Christmas lights come down
in my mind—
Running toward them still
Toes numb
Skates bouncin on my back
Sled firing off sparks against the sidewalk in my wake
Running and as always late
Mittens soaked, heavy
Like my eyes—
Mom and I
looking out this window for the last time
Looking out toward the daughter of the woods I was
Behind—me
the bride sinks
to the bare mattress—
“Was it really 57 years?
How can it be?”
since...clutching can opener and Coke
He scooped her up and through that door....
“How can it be? Oh my….”
"You can always keep the memories."
she chirps to check the tears
But I can’t taste them!
…Mom baking cookies
stew and dumplings on the stove
Snitching chocolate bits
waiting for the bowl
Impatient little helpers at her side
Colors slipping…
A child husks corn in sunlight
A blue Huffy gleams behind birthday candles
Sheets billow from the line
Sounds fading...
A choir of music boxes
before the Christmas carnage
Doing dishes in three-part harmony
I can barely wrap my words around our voices!
“You can always keep the memories”
Preamble to the dutiful decision
Hypothermic excuse
to dump the place
Street sign shrinking in the rear-view
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
FAKE FRIENDS
You call me a friend, as you pull out a knife
You stab me in the back, not once but twice
Friends for life, but that’s a straight up lie
You aint gotta clue, about Ride or Die
I’m surrounded by wolves that are dressed like sheep
Telling straight lies, dry snitching on me
Claiming it wasn’t you, behind the line up glass
You straight pointed out me, to save your own ***
I’d rather sweat buckets, to search out peace
Than spilling gallons of blood, fighting demons in me
The battle continues, frighten the anger within
It’s a full time job, dealing with FAKE *** FRIENDS
Ever time I think I know, what you’ll do next
You end up selling me out, for a yard or less
You made you a dollar, so I’m screaming again
You’re a straight up punk, a FAKE *** FRIEND
I can sit and formulate a plan in my head
Take a ****** shot; make your FAKE *** DEAD
Now I’m on the run, a fugitive at large
Aint a FAKE *** FRIEND around, worth taking a charge
Their a dime a dozen, you can find them anywhere
Just don’t be fooled, because its buyer beware
It’s a known street rule, don’t say it wasn’t said
Because FAKE *** FRIENDS, usually wined up dead
But ill take what GOD gave me common sense, and walk away
It’s a soft *** move, but Ill write another day
Not locked up covered up, dealing with my sins
Nothing wrong with cutting off, a FAKE *** FRIEND
Aint a chick or dude around, can’t relate to what I’m saying
We all had friends, which were straight perpetrating
Saying they got our back, all the way to the end
Same ole same ole, just a FAKE *** FRIEND
So now I ride solo, I know it’s a risk
If push comes to shove, Ill add my girl to the list
Now I’m RICH and FAMOUS, and you wanna make amends
But as I told you before, **** FAKE *** FRIENDS!
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
my kindness is my weakness
not mistaken
but taken for exactly what it is
and you
you peeped game
recognized that nothing in me would allow life to hurt you
so your shield i became
taking every bullet
every sword
every bill collector trying to put you in chains
handling things the way your woman should
the way your woman could
the way your woman would
if your woman was me
but it's not cause i'm crazy
content with being less than anything
no title
no name
no definition
just occasional **** to prolong my ********
i'm itching to get to snitching
and tell all of your women
that it's
no competition
The Problem's coalition
all on a mission to handle all of your business
you're welcome
but i'm not thanked
no gratitude or appreciation shows on your face
your clothes are washed
you're well fed
and your bills, all paid
at this point
every ***** is wondering why does she stay
but my ladies know
we see our men as what they really could be
if they didn't have
3, 4 or well
15 on the team
so you have no time to worry about my needs
cause what i wont do she will
and she does
and she's never done but
she'll do it for you
you lucky ******* fool
the world is in your hands
and i'm Pinnocio for you
my girls know
how my nose grows when i lie
and say i don't care
cause everytime i'm ready to exhale
and exit this hell
of living in the balance with you
you smother me
sucker me
cover me with a pillow of sweet words
and gift me
with a hope filled rillo
you season my chicken
with new found understanding
and pour me a tall glass of
tall tales of how you hope this **** last
and i stay
so for my unhappiness
who else can i blame
but the good in me
for hoping that eventually you will change.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
it’s hard to express yourself when, the voices say i am snitching or squealing, i am not, i am trying to express myself
you see it’s hard to express myself when the people know they are in the wrong and they know it, so they tease in a very horrible way, i am a person
you see it’s hard to express yourself when, nobody cares what you have to say,
i don’t want to have this horrible teasing voice when i am expressing myself
i am not squealing, i am trying to clean my brain out, mind you it’s hard to express myself when i hear voices of my past being horrible to me
i don’t deserve this, you see it’s hard to express myself when when i express myself, my dad comes in and says your too shy to be like brian
let us men take over, but what i am trying to do is clean my brain, i don’t want give money till i want to give money, i need to look after myself
i didn’t want to buy that kid a pack of smokes, i hate kids who tease like that, just to get me in trouble with the men
it’s hard to express myself when, people think i liked being shy as a kid, when i hated it, it’s hard to express myself when my voices
are keeping me with the crazy people in the psych ward, i will never be as ******* up as them, but they have problems, and i am a nice person
i am too nice to be a psych ward patient
it’s hard to express myself when i feel people are saying your getting kidnapped all the fucken time
it’s hard to express myself when people judge me me of how i used to be, and not how i am now
it’s hard to express myself when people treat me like the person i used to be, a scared to express myself dude, to who i am dude, a loving life dude
it’s hard to express myself when i feel people are trying to get me back to the person i was, because, i ****** off a lot of people, I HAVE CHANGED
it’s hard to express myself i hear that voice of the past saying, what’s ya problem, **** what’s ya problem, ****
it’s hard to express myself when, the voices laugh at me when i have problems at doing something, i don’t want to be shy no more
it’s hard to express myself when, people say when i say i am not shy, people presume i want to fight, I DON’T
it’s hard to express myself when people are saying i am christian, but i am a buddhist, ya know cleaning my brain
it’s hard to express myself when i say i need to clean my brain, someone gets a garden hose and splashes it in my eyes saying, your still a little shy boy, LEAVE ME ALONE
it’s hard to express myself when, people are wanting me to do what i used to do, when i want to move on to the next phase of my life, putting my art and writing out there
it’s hard to express myself when, people saying we’re still not leaving you alone, all the fucken time, LEAVE ME ALONE, ****
it’s hard to express myself when people wanting me to be like their mob, when i hate being treated like a little woosey
i would like to find the person who put the voices in my head, and give him these voices to see how he likes it,
I AM NOT MENTAL, I HAVE SCHITZOPHRENIA, ok
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
They dance tae boots n' cats
like ants being crushed by boots:
Squirming, wriggling, writhing
wae jaws scraping the flare.
They scurry like wee rats
under the ground in cahoots:
snidely sneaking, snitching
under the boots n' cats they blare.
"Boots n cats urr booming doon yer ears.
Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years.
Boots n cats will perforate yer ears.
Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years"
But then sumday changed the beat:
It Came in oan the and.
And everyone forgot how tae dance.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
Mocking bird do not
go to the grinning sun and
tell him my secret
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
1- Totes inaprope dope smoker swisher toker blunt wrap roper you be like my ole aunt groper
2- She be grabbin ***** on all ya’ll in the Fall by the ball court short shorts and written reports
3- ******* dorks and eatin pork like nanu nanu Mork with a stork baby drop on the porch
4- Carry the torch to the couch jump up ta bounce see a fool to trounce and slap in the head
5- Make him brain dead said I see red in bedrooms full a ***** mothers slack jaw brothers
6- Druther act like one another than smother muthafuckers with rubber maid garbage cans
7- Hand feeding planned partenthood in the hood acting no good wit mad wood ya shoulda
8- Put those down came round and found a pound for slingin, bringing back the Ringling elephants
9- And cellophane wrapper sandwiches ******* snitching on rich kids for gambling small wagers
10- Drunken rage-ers deranged rangers feeding bears strangers and rearranging body parts
11- Carded farters impart special gasses on mass media fascists allowing brash
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
I dont need help.
Maybe I do.
Do I?
How the hell would you know..unless you are in my head fighting the demons off..but you know that you’d NEVER **** them..right??
Im talking to myself.
Is that crazy?
Insane?
******
Does everyone talk to themselves the way I do?
I need help!
I’ve asked but,I ran away.
From help...thats how insane I am…
help?
Is there such thing?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Well maybe not for me.
Help is a definition of **** me slowly..
When you ask for help you get tortured,humiliated your demons in your head scream and laugh at how much of a ******* wimp you are for snitching on them!
You will never get help if you're in my situation you’ll only suffer your heart will only keep breaking and your demons will grow bigger.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 1
Driving around fronting like a boss.
Feel the connection, better come correct kid.
For in the hood one is always in need of some protection.
And if ya don’t ya best watch your neck kid.
It’s all about respect kid.
So better watch your mouth kid.
Because yawl be dead if ya ever start snitching.
For If you wanna survive you just gotta be packing.
And If you wanna a meal on your plate than ya better start stealing.
Just be careful because the pigs always creeping.
Watching our houses, tapping our phones,
Every day and every weekend.
For there is no freedom in the project zone.
It’s like gulag out here man, with gangs all trying to sit on the iron porcelain throne.
But it doesn’t mean **** for the government will still be the true al capoene.
Testing out their drugs on us like we lab rats.
Using racism and propaganda to keep us on our backs.
Which makes makes me wonder why the rest of our society don’t just neuter these ***** cats?
**** But as long as...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 2
Stunting with my money like a true mob boss!
You want power?
You want respect?
You want to fly around in a purple jet?
Than ya better come correct.
I feel ya J, we gotta makes them waves.
Like a big kahuna, drinking some corona.
Coming in like a super hero to save the day.
We will be the rulers, taking out the opposition like a true mobster.
And ya might think us monsters, but we just doing what we can with this natural disaster.
That you created, ya I ain’t faded.
Opportunity for all, in this world so devastated.
From Atlanta to the bronks.
Only got one rule, which is don’t be a foolish punk.
You gotta think smart and not just rely on luck.
For every dog has its day, so be careful where you run a muck.
Just as long as you never forget...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Got that money, power, and fame like Kriss kross.
Do you got that sauce?
Does he have that sauce?
Because if you don’t, than that’s a loss.
So remember to never lose that sauce.
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
Anomous snitching,
Tooth dead crinching,
The Grinch has made his way in!!
Talk of the town,
What's made is yours,
And what's ours is yours.
You bee sting amongst the nest!!
Epeleptic symptoms turn the chairs of doctoria request!!!
Antsy fingers,
Written unspokeness,
While the ongoing brokenness rewrites history paradox sense!!
Repentance,
Repentance,
Jurrassic marmelade!
Giving up all your readiness for our creditless credit carded trades!!!
Grass root momentary,
Head stone obituary, you are soo lovely in day!!!
The weeds that pull wrap divinely,
Enter signification relieve all things timely...
Relinquishments own freshing!!!
Grads of the ages for a scripturetic blessing,
How seasonal this all is!!!!!!!!!
Four chambered mansion, hearts beats immaculate to sweets and treat's of sugar can value!!!
Where coffee rocks fall through open lace of white state rags....
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
The beautiful pedals on a rose shine vibrant with sunlight. Morning dew still lies on top of the white veins in the flower.
Society is calling its hour
They say we fight for peace and freedom but do we really?
Or do we fight of judgment and sorrow…
Every day's hour is calling for tomorrow.
Girls walk and boys play
As the rose is watching from far away.
Poison hits the air when she gossips her words
Another sound of judgment is passed on to snitching birds
Spreading like fire through day and night
Electricity is in this fight
The boys are viewed as tough not weak
Squishing girls underneath their cheek
This is an injustice
This is not right
To have society let the man go who caused a fight
To let him walk with his sin of ****
While the girl sits alone listening to a single song tape
How is this justice to let him go
The young girl sits watching & breaking on her own.
She is now broken for life
A memory that’s placed as quickly as a clasp knife
To hide behind smiles and lies
This man will strike a again…
While the red rose dies.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
Story of my life....
My criminal offense
I did 2 years in a cage
Got sent away for loving you
I participated and didn't call it off
I was an accomplice to love
I was there for you, with you
Played a part in your love affair
Then you trapped me in your circle of promises
Broken promises
I went to jail for your own sins
Dishonesty, untrustworthy, alcoholism irresponsible, careless, self-centeredness sexist, ungrateful, unapologetic
Should've known better
That **** got me locked up
Got released but am on probation
Had to do a little bit of snitching...introspection
Got lucky, things could've went pear shaped
Pulled myself together now I got to testify
Tell the whole world how you molested my trust
How you emotionally ***** me
How you beat my heart to a pulp
How I couldn't stop you though I tried
I have to confess all of that
Else I am facing a life sentence of abuse, brokenness and loneliness
I have to testify against you
and set myself free from binding chains
So help me God to tell the truth
And finally get to walk away
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
Take a saw
And cut me down deeply
Slowly,
Starting from my head
Through my heart,
Down to my sick belly
So, I could feel the agony
You poured on me
Vengeance might be a way
But I will settle down for a say
Like a boiling water on ice
Dripping the pain into my veins
You shall succeed being a monster
A stranger after all we did
Together, snitching out on me
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
By:Cedric McClester
I hope a random act of violence
Can bring an end to the code of silence
Because a six-year-old boy was stabbed to death
And his seven-year-old female companion was left
With multiple stab wound injuries
Now the doctors are exploring contingencies
And the neighborhood is left feeling bereft
Tell me what more could be left
He was just a little baby
His mother cried, "Lord save me!"
What’s this whole world coming to
How could somebody do
What they did to her only son
But now that the deed has been done
Will the neighbors cling to their tired code
Or have the courage to unload
Things have gotten too far gone
To say they’ve not would be wrong
I know for some snitching is tough
But when is enough, enough
How many children have to die
Before the police will be able to rely
On someone stepping up to the plate
To stop the madness before it is too late
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
I remember when I was still smallest in the lands,
And he smiled as I held the still beating heart,
Of a gasping fish in my pretty little hands,
A ruby red ball we gleefully tore apart,
Just to drop it used, a memory now distant,
To be forgotten in an instant.
The bigger I grew,
The more transparent he became,
Once I was through,
He was always the same,
Belittling, snitching, cutting and loathing,
Yet I was the one he proclaimed danced in sheep's clothing.
As the end of my imprisonment grew near,
A golden number just a few months away,
Something broke, discretely shattering my fear,
Leaving the cold little stone for which he now must pay,
For by tarnishing my heart with his cold grimy hands,
It was a key he threw away, his arms encased in cool shackle bands.
Soon it will be I who is free,
and trapped to rot,
it will be he,
bitter, and green, he asked and he got,
he laughed when I cried,
now with no guilt, his pleas are denied.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:32 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
They wanna know
Am I obsessed
Perhaps I am
Just as they suggest
But lies eventually
Get undressed
Whether denied
Or confessed
And we’ve been lied to
Convincingly
And that’s the problem
Don’t cha see
Cos I refuse
To let it be
One day I know
We’ll all be free
They wanna know
Why I’m so mad
As if bein angry
Is so bad
The fact they’re not
To me is sad
Guess they don’t know
When they’ve been had
They wanna wave
The red white and blue
But would they still
If they knew
The true nature of the beast
And why were really
In the Middle East
So that the vultures get to feast
They wanna know
Why I write
About this subject
Day and night
But I’m just tryin
To shed some light
On how and why
We’re in this fight
And someone has to speak
Truth to power
So I seized the moment
And the hour
I’ll not let them
Make me cower
The situation
Is too dower
They wanna know
Why I feel
So compelled
To keep it real
Snitching don’t have
Much appeal
But someone has to
Tell the deal
The 9-11 sentiment
Ain’t the reason
That we went
It’s the oil
Get the hint
That’s the truth
Of why we went
They wanna know
But then they don’t
Some will believe
While others won’t
But I still try
To raise the roof
And I don’t talk
Without the proof
Now he won’t tell ya
That he goofed
He should have stayed
On the Vermouth
Maybe then
He’d be more mellow
Instead he’s just
A cocky fellow
They wanna know
But I’m not tellin
That George Dubya
Must be jellin
Y’all know
That the man’s a felon
And I don’t believe
You’re askin me
The nature of his felony
You have eyes
Use them to see
Yo we’re at war
And don’t have to be
And I guess it's clear enough to see
That he is not the remedy
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC