"subjecting" poems
You have lost faith in me,
I can see it in your eyes,
Hear it in the distance of
Your troubled voice,
Feel it in the loss of heat
In your touch.
You have lost faith in us,
And wander blankly
Amidst the days
Going through the motions
With no purpose
No passion
No hope.
May God **** them,
But they tell the truth.
The knowing whispers
The "I told you so "
The "We warned you"
You hear from every side-
From those I loved because
They loved you.
They are right
And I am wrong.
I took your life by
Slow degrees-
Destroying your life
By my very presence.
Subjecting you to a life
Of neverending toil
To simply stay a step ahead.
Your brightness has
Dimmed and fades
More with each
Passing day.
You do not deserve this
And never have.
My selfishness has done this
I cannot bear the thought of losing you
But I cannot do this-
I cannot destroy what
I love more than life itself.
The darkness
The possibility of
life without you
Now visible
And very real
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
Water take no cleansing action to his detention
That has felt no remorse for the notion of vindication
Foolish mentality, child without maturity
Lead by impulse, and lulled by a narcissist
Sitting there like gravity has given you control
Ignorant individual entrapped with your own soul
Take one moment, talk, not to her but for her
Exactly what was your discourse, are you her
Did you act on juvenile inclination or fortification
Subconsciously lost to wicked temptation
Sincerely do you have a mental hindrance
I’m subjecting to name-calling because of this dance
Who are you following what are you allowing
Your letting the past mold your thinking
Don’t get defensive you made the offensive
Your know the history, yet you let lust be submissive
“Go back” that is what you lack, the thought to review
And guide your way through and accept you’re flawed
Jan 31, 2010
Jan 31, 2010 at 11:37 AM UTC
Nigeria 🇳🇬
A lot has happened to you since 62
You're a year older, and still most of your kin hates you
They forget how they may not exist without you
Yes! You are on the brink of hell,
To say your name has been marred with gutter
An act from most of your children
You have suffered the injustices of men
We hear cries of your children in the North
Thousands of hooligans in the South-West
There is so much bad blood in the East
The Middle Belt doesn't know her role or who to follow
Your name has been berated all over the world
Your currency, at the brink of death with the stock market
Stolen funds for those who can grasp it
Banditry for the suffering Masses
Illegal mining, yet no one is talking about it
You have suffered bickerings from people who want to _Japa_
A fluctuating forex makes it no easier
They blame you for their atrocious behaviour
They sometimes forget how fertile you are.
Nigeria!
From East-West and North-South, you have suffered injustices
For decades, you have been subject to malicious governance
Battling all levels of inflation, subjecting your people to abject poverty
Yet the rich get richer, and the poor? More Jejune if you ask.
At 63, I want to fight. For your children and kinship
Fight for your soil and regain your strength
Battle with these injustices and insecurity
Bring down inflation and take back your crown
Debunk all forms of evil committed with your name
And fight for a better 64.
Nigeria is great, Nigeria will be great
Nigeria is our father's land.
Happy Independence Day, Nigeria 🇳🇬
Bellah.
Oct 1, 2023
Oct 1, 2023 at 3:59 AM UTC
Hours, invested in front of the mirror-
Masquerading traces of imperfection.
Artistically designing an ideal 'beautiful'
Subjecting God's product to correction.
Stepped forward a mere lady. Modified-
And strolled away in a goddess' shoes.
You are picture perfect; ideal, just right,
But still lacking divinity's perfect hues.
Your foundation's more rare than most;
Down to earth as if curved out of dirt.
Your inner person's a wonder of nature.
Your unique body language, foreign; curt.
You would never have to alter your looks-
If my hazel eyes were to be your mirror.
Because through them, you would see-
How your positives are much more clearer.
The way your smile stretches on your face;
The tight grip of truth in your soft voice;
The way your body says 'art from heaven;'
The way I stare like my eyes have no choice.
Not the most flashy of earth's accessories,
But still captures the attention of my heart.
Not various items of weighty price tags,
Your beauty is more of God's internal art.
I love every touch of God's image on you;
Dark fair skin, wide hips and daring eyes.
Sweet lips, your nose, chin; your everything.
That's the makeup which money never buys.
I love your makeup. For it is neither worn-
Nor victim of the winds of time and change.
I love your makeup cuz you can wake in it-
And its not so much as to make you strange.
Not mascara, face powder or eye shadow.
Your makeup doesn't enhance your beauty.
I love your makeup cuz come what may-
Your makeup is the you my heart will see.
Keep Smiling
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
I write this not from a lofty place of judgement or from frantic paranoia, but instead I would much rather you learn from any and all of my mistakes before subjecting yourself to future pain.
First and most importantly: you are lovable, you are loved, and you are truly worthy of love and appreciation. This is a resolute fact, an immutable truth that you have absolutely no chance of changing. Remember this in your darkest moments- just because you may feel “less than” your normal self does not mean that you have lost your self worth. If you learn anything from me, please let this one thing be it.
Second, and more lengthy: as well-adjusted as I may come off, know that I have these horrid insecurities and vices about me that I have the hardest time shaking off, even on my best days. I have spent most of my life wondering if I would ever find love, because people keep telling me that you need to first love yourself in order to love someone else; there have been days where I truly don’t love myself. However, I think there’s something to be said about feeling love for someone else amidst all of this wretchedness- I give my love unabashedly, with an earnest conviction that I think comes from knowing what feeling lonely truly means, and never wishing that feeling upon someone else.
Love is something I have fallen into and am currently falling out of, it is something that has kept me up for hours at night but kept me in bed long after the sun has risen; it has brought me to my knees and it once had lifted me up. Love has grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, looked me dead in the eyes, and asked me if I was worth anything- knowing that I would never answer affirmatively. Love has made me sing and scream the loudest my lungs could possibly take, and it has rendered me silent for days at a time. It has fogged my vision and my mind and left me bereft of any sense of clarity. I have lived my longest seconds and my shortest days when in love.
Loving someone can truly be terrifying- you will never be quite so unmade and disassembled as you are when in love. You will have handed someone the pieces of yourself and know that they could very easily unravel the threads of your being you have so tediously strung together; take comfort in the fact that they could very well hold your pieces together when you feel strung out.
*Signed without wax,
Someone Whose Heart
Is Learning To Hope Again*
P.S. I urge you to be careful, and to be safe. There is not a world in which you can have done something and I will not be there to support you unconditionally. I will be here in your corner, ready to listen to your story, ready to congratulate or to console, ready to remind you of your worth.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
Its better written than said, Yet they say am blindfolded by your love, Fooling myself without been bewitched,
Who cares, when your blazing love, beautifys my heart from miles away, this 's not a subject of discussion, Now they say am subjecting myself to unnecessary distraction,
Let them talk we say, Who cares what they see, When they are tired they will seat,
When no one was here, It's u I could find, In u I confine, No need to confirm,
When u speak, I toss and turn, that grinds my gears, No need to cough Before I confess, Your beautify's clouding my head of nonsense,
They say it makes no sense, I need to be counseled, you have created a cell of love in my head, It needs to be casted,
From the caging love that has be canoeing In my head, it's time it capsize, But who cares , When canopying your love , brings me joy,
They keep staring , With there brutal faces , From different races, backstabbing claiming to be, back stopping the bleeding That has been fooling My blessings without no lesson,
Its time to make it clear, Like I have said, Its better written than said,
Am not blindfolded by your love , Nor obsessed by your touch, nether will I be addicted by your thought,
I only see an angel when I look at you, admiring the beautiful creativity of nature,
You are in this because you have colonized in my heart .
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
isn't little butterflies on my stomach,
falling for you
isn't an oasis on a barren desert,
falling for you
isn't like knowing how to breathe,
falling for you
is subjecting myself to a million drops
from a million towers,
falling for you
is letting the ocean drown me,
falling for you
is standing in the middle of a hurricane.
And that's okay.
Because,
love,
I was made for rain.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
i know what the problem with poetry is...
it’s like nick harper tuning the piano
or tenacious d playing the one note song...
it’s almost like
had i the grace (#d)
to fathom the craze (#d)
of each acknowledging stare (#a)
we shared: i guess i’d fare (#a)
much closer to the stardom (#b)
of what i can fathom (#b)...
lead
-ed
red
well fed...
ya ya yawn.
apart from the humanities subjecting an art via mutilating
the one original craft of spontaneity
with such excess of scalpel and anaesthetic
as “discovered” theory...
no expression of language has as many “grammatical”
words to define its learning / interpretation as poetry...
whatever verb has against pronouns to make us anonymous
by excluding a personal stance of nouns...
so has poet against verbs to make us anonymous
by excluding a metaphor personalised given the nouns.
well one note does sound “serene” giving the rhyme couplet
when in music just the same old repeat of the so called rhythm: of a church at 11pm, i.e.
poetry is ruined by rhyme... rhyme kills rhythm
of spontaneity... and i'd hate to make poetry
the ***** of predictability of £110 an hour £10 extra
for oral *** performed on her... enter the realm of rhyme
and you enter a cul de sac:
i was headbanging, unsure whether it was the music
that got me started or the echo of my head autographing
a brick wall as a way to find teeth in a woodpecker's beak.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Brussels is now on lockdown
Which has us all in shock now
And because we are frightened
Our borders have been tightened
Ever since Paris was attacked
It’s changed the way we act
Sometimes it’s been extreme
If you know what I mean
And now our energy is spent
Finding new ways to be vigilant
So we seem to equivocate
While subjecting others to our hate
As for our values? fair thee well
Cuz nowadays you cannot tell
Exactly who we are
Because we’ve strayed so very far
They can shut down any Mosque
Because of safety at all cost
And so I fear for the time being
Certain things we’ll not be seeing
Like the liberty they once lauded
Now it can’t be that afforded
And so something does not feel right
In the city known for light
What are we prepared to lose
I don’t know, you care to choose?
And if I may be so bold
Should we abandon our very soul
So that we can feel secure
Or does that exist anymore?
Clearly I don’t have the answer
As to how we defeat a cancer
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:51 AM UTC
i already miss flying
high above myself,
unaware of every ****
i should be giving.
i plant flowers in my
wounds instead,
fully aware—I feel them
grow from me
& bloom.
painful, beautiful.
and so powerful.
I used to find power in
deflecting
neglecting
rejecting &
subjecting myself.
healing is hurting.
healing is hurting.
hurt people hurt people.
but healed people heal people.
and maybe sometimes they’re the same person.
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 2:38 PM UTC
Syria
Crying
Agonizing
Relentless
Torture
Your body torn
Shredded
Cancer
Consuming
And the cause?
Uncaring Viruses
Corrupting
Your teachings
Subjecting you to
Insurmountable
Pain
Misery
I'm so sorry
JM 3/30/17
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC
We're bowing down to a system
Which uses us like pawns
Controlling our very actions
From the moment our first breath is drawn
We're not using our free will
If such a thing exists
They're subjecting us to their ideals
Molding our minds with an iron fist
I'm waking from this living nightmare
And why is it only me
Whose desperate to escape this fate
Why am I the only one to see
I try clawing my way out
But it's useless and I wonder
*Is it better to be aware and helpless
Or ignorant and still under?*
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
When all I'm doing is enjoying your presence?
When I can't decide whether I want to hear your voice?
When all I'm doing is taking in your appearance
But, to pursue you, I don't plan on making that choice?
This is my version of a crush, I suppose
Subjecting myself to a beautiful Hell
More than ready to be led by the nose
Breaking off bits of my heart for you to sell
I'm not looking for love in this
Just someone to sympathize
And then I'll wonder why I didn't get you
When I never even tried.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel her eyes avoid mine,
As if she's trying to hide
the love in her eyes,
As if she knows if we made eye contact
I'd know n call her out on it.
She's bottled up n reserved
With such poise that no mans ever known,
They chase after her,
They come in hoards
And maybe that's why she avoids
Subjecting her self to being known.
She's got questions about me
And she's so unsure, she's just being protective of her self and more.
I'm never chasing after her though,
Cause I know the hoards that come after her,
Why subject myself to being like the rest. No! I won't,
Ill just say hello n hope you notice my tone,
It'll be a tone I rarely use with anybody else, and I just hope it'll be enough to let you know.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
it's one of those nights again,
when the messy equilibrium
of feeling rears its head and
demands compensation for
the goodness i had so recently.
i guess i could discard
the convenient attachment
and simply blame my limbic
system for subjecting me to it,
but that's dis(honest) to my nature.
it's the worst kind: contemplative;
not grief, or [lone]liness, or any
other illness of the amygdala,
(the heart pumps blood, and
blood is not a medium of feeling).
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 5:31 AM UTC
:
The weight of what I'm carrying is heavier with you
the bruises on my back are turning black as I turn blue
This body once a ticking clock is losing track of time
and now the only hands I hold are breaking both of mine
The keeper of my tendencies is shattering my bones
subjecting them to rulership of everything he owns
The only things I haven't lost are pieces of my head
the thoughts forced into dormancy because of what you said
And they have been my hiding place for longer than I know
though entropy displaces me whenever I do go
The journey back to where we are is always just the same
exasperating both of us despite what you can claim
I want to leave and so I stay, my reasoning will prove
that it is here, in front of you that I dare not to move
.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
I am feeling so many things all at once,
a whirlwind of emotions,
frantic and furious,
circling the drain of my mind,
planting landmines in my heart,
subjecting me to explosion,
to drowning,
that I somehow feel none of it,
an empty shell
exhausted,
dried up from everything
I should be feeling,
I am left feeling none of it,
and maybe once I rest,
once I let go,
once I forget it all,
once I feel nothing,
I will then feel
everything,
and everything will feel
me.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
He left home for a very good reason
But no one ever asked him why.
Nobody questioned the bruises
Nobody ever even tried.
The neighbors ignored the noises
Of a child screaming in agony.
The urban equivalent of caring
Is universally applied apathy.
Shut up kid, the adults are talking;
You’re to be seen and never heard.
Keep you complaints to yourself.
Don’t say another word.
The teachers saw the marks
And noticed the change in mood.
They brought it up to the school
But they didn’t want to be sued.
Why didn’t the teacher call
And tell this to the police?
Because the school said, out front
If the teacher would face release.
Whenever there is a conflict between
A child’s welfare and peace
The school district will always choose
To make their employee cease
And desist making waves at work
And subjecting the board to scorn.
It isn’t their fault that so many
Bad kids go get themselves born.
Shut up kid, the adults are talking;
You’re to be seen and never heard.
Keep you complaints to yourself.
Don’t say another word.
Later everyone will have to pretend
That they never knew a thing.
That they thought the kid was wrong
Or that the kid was simply lying.
After all, the kids don’t matter much
They cost a lot and do not vote.
So every complaint they ever make
Is treated like as a sour note.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
Him: "I'm afraid. Afraid of rejection."
And this is what I told him: "Then you're just subjecting yourself to something that has little or no value. Rejection is nothing but a notion. A norm. Just a word. But we are afraid of it because we give it power. Power to scare us witless. We become fools. Afraid of our own illusions. Only we can break it. Break the illusion, break the fear, break the norm, break rejection."
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
A poignant question rooted in rhetoric.
How do I define myself when there are so many images of me,
Through the eyes of many I’m many things,
Through the echoes of history I’m liked to nothingness,
The essence of misfortunes my forefathers bore.
How I define myself? An enigma wrapped in an mystery.
Through time I held this truth to be self-evident,
To defy history, to condemn the distorted truth about me,
To nullify the justification of my existence, I objected to the
Classification of race perpetuated to the minds of those who cannot reason,
To those with misguided arguments at best and irrelevant at worst,
How do I define myself? Colour has nothing to do with it.
Looking to define myself, I met myself.
A pervasive, facile definition I was fed since infancy was to be questioned,
As I looked deeply into myself, disregarding the Eurocentric ideologies of my
Existence. I came to define myself by not subjecting myself to any definition.
How do I define myself? I Stay undefined like God in who’s image I was created.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
Why would I discuss ****
If Masculine **** is fine
Society don't give it a shape
Mental design get in line
I know this phenomenon
Coz it happened to me
Well now it's a foregon
It wasn't simple as it feel
A girl molested a boy
But boy appeared as pervert
It was like battle of Troy
In which boy was compared with dirt
He can't have a police complain
He can't have any trial
The law doesn't recognise it
Oh dead fish stuck in brail
Police arrested that boy
Subjecting crimes that are not done
Girl acquired fake support from
Feminist people in a bun
This was the end
Of a Real Story
Unknown cases and
Candle march glory..
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
Sing me a song,
Write me a letter,
Hold me tight,
Make everything better.
Listen to my voice,
Interpret my words,
Push me away,
Float away with the birds.
I need your touch...
Fighting these tears,
Waste away my life,
Subjecting to my fears.
Inducing love in my life,
Not an easy task at hand,
Writing these poems,
Is like water without land.
Aug 5, 2010
Aug 5, 2010 at 9:01 PM UTC
I thought terribly hard of all the things
I wanted to say in the spaces of your time and mine
my heart rushes ahead of all the things I want to type out and
the time spent crafting my life journey
pathetic as it was
sad and stupid as it was
in the memory of my life
I dedicate it to myself
as something I deserve to have done for myself
not subjecting anyone else to my whining
my feeling sorry for myself and
trying to escape this feeling sorry,
feeling bad for and about
myself
this was my act of selfishness-
one of many I must admit-
however there is something to be said
about taking out for no one
but myself
and in a heartbeat, my life,
continues
no-one needs judge
this is my ode to myself
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 11:56 AM UTC
Note to self
Don't hide inside
Don't go within
By letting your light go dim
How often I have
tried to escape from the world
Going within instead of out
How often I have
felt safer in my own realm
and not in the thick of life
I learned early on
some survival tactics
that no longer serve me well
The cruelties of the world
were experienced
not only on the outside
but within my own home
and I withdrew myself often
to survive
Now, how I work hard to shed
that old, childhood self of mine
By writing to express myself
By never stopping to learn
the wonders of this world
By subjecting myself
to pain and disappointment
that I worked so hard
to avoid
as a child
Because life
is experiencing
the joy and the pain
P. S.
Note to self
Journey on!
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 7:17 AM UTC