"unaffordable" poems
the average cost of a funeral is
$8,515
death is unaffordable for me
put me in big oblong cardboard box
2 feet by 3 feet by 6 feet
packing list enclosed
fragile (not really)
please handle with care
keep upright
or
supine
send me to the
grande vide
postage due
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 12:55 PM UTC
Ye won't comprehend what I mean
Unless acquire the eyes to have seen
Emotions by their true image
Do you know what I mean?
Once harnessed power to play with emotions
Impossible seems revival, work no potions
When crawl back half alive
Anaesthetised images, walking drunk motions
That deep sorrow, sadness and pain
The efforts and struggles all in vain
Isn't what you cry for and say?
Ask thyself,
Who drove you into that lane
Pitch dark corners of thoughts arouse the feel
Four stanzas including this one's just half meal
Clouds of this kind circle forever
Pressing the haunting words, in time I'll heal
--------
<***>
Presence of happiness none sees, a pity
As we surmise, there does exist a Deity
For a reason, all this emerged
In everything, there might be something pretty
<*>
Once gripped that strange feel in the prayers
Shall form over body, invisible protective layers
Addition in tons, not kilos
Of sagacity, on each climb of the stairs
<>
Life devoid of expectations isn't the option
The mindset's worthy enough for adoption
Great expectations pave dirtiest of roads
Too precious to be displayed up for auction
<**>
On Him can we lean and must firmly believe
Direct contact's the medicine for mind's relief
Affordable yet unaffordable jewels await
For the closest beings in His regard to receive
F.A teeri
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
It’s, “affordable housing,”
That we can’t afford
Our cries in vain
Go largely ignored
So please don’t ask us
Where the grapes of wrath are stored
If you don’t want us
To respond untoward
They show us an unaffordable
AMI
For people who barely
Are just getting by
So to call it affordable
Is a bold face lie
That try though they may
They cannot deny
We’re brought together
To plan and plot
Our community’s future
Are we not
But they won’t admit
To what’s already in place
Like a zoning change
What a disgrace
Ultimately we’re told our future’s
Up to us
And if we believe them
As they say we must
They seek our ideas
Like they really matter
But I know all that is
Is just chitter chatter
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
vote for nobody
because nobody cares
that you're a wage-slave
that healthcare is astronomical
and college is unaffordable
nobody tells the truth
about global warming
nobody gives a ****
about smashing the patriarchy
nobody understands that
black lives matter
and since nobody
has an ounce of
integrity it's in our
own best interest
to let nobody have
all the power
if nobody can stop
the endless war and
ubiquitous surveillance
apparatus that subjects
the world to invasive
violations of privacy
then i will give
nobody my support
nobody pledges allegiance
to all brothers and sisters
and organisms on planet Earth
and feels the weight
of each life crushed
by the gears of capitalism
nobody sits alone in
the school cafeteria
nobody begs for change
on the front-steps
of Goldman Sachs
nobody pirouettes atop
a Charging Bull
nobody stares
back at you
in the mirror
a vote for nobody is
a vote for everyone
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
i like to listen to bobby womack
sing "fly me to the moon"
while thinking of jeff's blue origin rocketship
exploding in the air
all his pride
crashing down in pieces
recorded for the whole world to see
because i have walked
unhappily down the streets
of soulless south lake union
where clueless people walk by
dumbly raising rents
congesting traffic
thinking they are off to change the world
crying about peter dinklage
yellowfacing herve villechaize,
their stupidity knows no bounds
always hard at work in south lake union
producing nothing that won't be obsolete
the second it is completed
purposely designed to make our lives unaffordable
**** jeff and all his tech bro henchmen
who do nothing but steal the sun from the poor
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
A pretty young fille
Around her is a happy feeling
Moody and waivy
Always gossiping and charming
Emotionally high
She's a delicate darling
Dreaming and aiming high
Dedication is inherent
Working hard towards her belief
Bonded in her family
She's a wonderful fairy
Easily hurt
She must be taken care of well
She's a sweet heart
Unaffordable to lose
I must tell
Caring and naughtiness dwells in her
Innocence is what brings purity in her
Colors are what life is for her
Not to be mistaken, she's a strong heart to hear
Wall to her family
Flower to her friends
She's a butterfly within herself
Pouring your heart out is what you would feel to do
When she's making her presence all around you
Comforting you 'n making you happy
Yes my friends, all i am talking about is MY VERY OWN MITTU!
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 7:12 AM UTC
they forgot... i said: i feel sedated... i don’t feel drunk, i feel sedated... but there’s you with a horse’s head telling me otherwise... high on ketamine.
as expected,
the local highstreet is changing,
a new shop opened, a café,
serving all day breakfast,
and it donned the union jack proudly on a pole,
made me think about marching to war for a bit,
but then i walked past the local estate agent,
and, guess what,
it actually allowed the travelling circus’ posters to hang
on its windows next to unaffordable housing...
(usually these posters are reserved for dilapidated buildings,
you know how people, when it comes to gypsies with make-up
acrobats and elephants)
well... unaffordable... unless you’re a sheikh or
a rich scamming nigerian;
now that’s lucky for a giggle... a union jack above
the café door and circus posters in the estate agents... ha;
it’s like i’m watching the third partition of poland,
although here it’s not the habsburgs prussians and the romanovs
but the jazz singer blackface clowns, the regular clowns... and the mimes.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
America. Known famously as the melting ***
It's suddenly become more important than ever if you're white or not.
We've spent years creating a society that tries to be color blind.
Now, no matter where you look, talks about the color of your skin are all you will find.
Everyone, besides Native Americans, is an immigrant here.
The color of anyone's skin is no longer so clear.
How do we separate all the different races?
I see many different races when I look into people's faces.
Because I am a Republican, I have been accused of White Privilege.
I choose to measure people based on their actions and knowledge.
The hilarious thing is I'm being judged and I am not all white.
Turns out, that doesn't matter as long as I belong to the party on the right.
I supported, contributed to, and voted for Trump.
That makes me worse in the eyes of the left than a ***** with a ****
I'm a minority in more ways than one.
But the amount of ***** that they give is none.
I have a job, no welfare or Medicaid here.
But, for people coming into this country illegally, their fate is clear.
A free ride, where Americans like me, are left to take it in the rear.
Tax increases, unaffordable healthcare, no more free speech due to fear.
Everything you say that doesn't align with their agenda will be erased.
Just like they'll cancel you if their values and ideas are not embraced.
I am a woman and my heritage draws from many different places.
French, Honduran, Puerto Rican, English, German, and Italian; just to name a few.
We are all a mixture of many different backgrounds and races, even you.
Yet, I'm accused of White Privilege, based on politics alone.
So what if I work hard, pay my own bills, and own my home.
I believe All Lives Matter, not just the black ones.
Because no one is all black or all white, not our daughters or sons.
We'll never be united and strong until we realize this obvious fact.
America has been weakened in the eyes of the world based on the "victim act".
Slavey is a thing of the past and we should leave it where it lies.
Any society that tries to erase or forget its history eventually dies.
Republican or Democrat, we're all Americans here.
So, I won't be silenced out of fear.
A member of the working middle class.
I'll say what I want, keep my gun, and the left can kiss my ***
Feb 16, 2021
Feb 16, 2021 at 1:47 AM UTC
In Detroit, the "motor city".
The wheels are off the cart.
Auto coverage? unaffordable-
four thousand just to park!
So many buy no coverage
or pretend they live elsewhere.
The apathy is palpable
Local government doesn't care.
There is a high court precedent
handed down from Robert's chair
The President must get involved
to save them from despair.
He will assess the situation
and appoint an auto czar.
to force all to buy insurance
It will be called "Obama-Car"
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC
Where once the grasses played and ploughed,
in faithful winds had swung and bowed,
there now lie a thousand flies adrift …
All choked in sod and soaked to death.
A million artificial stars
be falling stars that never stop.
And on the surface tracks of dust
be grinding footsteps hard and fast,
too cruel for moon and earth too last.
Groping hands of eternal fright
not finding what they ever might .
The treasures they will no more find,
obstruct their eyes and make them blind.
Through brutal conscience, smog and fire
our paradise has changed to mire.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Oh what a wonderful phase
We are in right now, us five girlfriends,
With defunct love lives and no immediate hope
of securing a boyfriend.
Oh what freedom there is, in
branding ourselves "unaffordable platinums",
And priding ourselves at being too good for
those mortal, fallible, self-proclaimed "alpha" men.
Such hypocrites we are, actually,
Ridiculing and belittling that cute guy,
Still discussing his every move, nudging
and giggling at each other when he passes by.
But hey, call us hypocrites, evil, mean-
All of it we whole-heartedly accept.
Right now, we're living life in moments,
And our bucket list of madness, we mean to "check"-
Aimless flirting - check!
Pointless bedtime discussions - check!
Choosing a guy and then dissecting
His every habit - check,
His dressing style- check,
His twinkling eyes- check,
That had met ours today over lunch break- YES! Check!,
His last aloof message- check,
Sending an even more curt response- check,
Our hidden hopes that he would reply,
With affectionate words and also apologize,
For all the times he wasn't all that nice- wistful check.
Oh we're a bundle of emotions, us five,
Sans pressures and restrictions that a guy brings along,
Sans complexities and compulsions that come free
With his supplies of testosterone.
So, broadcasting this to all you gentlemen out there,
If you ever venture into our line of sight,
Prepare to be scrutinised, evaluated, and then rejected outright,
By this precious, exuberant pack of platinum five.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
Life's colors exist in red, yellow, and blue, an unaffordable simplicity existing only on the gray wax paper taped to my pallet. My hands are sweaty underneath my gloves, slick with linseed and paint. Leaves fall and stick to the surface of artificial canvas smeared with the tracks of pigment on my brush.
There I dance, grass caressing my bare feet, hair guided by the gentle breath of wind. An improvisation of ultramarine and alizarin crimson and titanium white, time transcends, though the shadows move. In this moment, nothing else matters except for the performance of light, color, motion.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
Cutting, like rings in a fist-fight.
Jumping, flying, drowning, floating
She said trying to fall asleep was like jumping.
Promises like traps:
with bills
and utilities
and watering bans
and road construction
and mixed district schools
and mall-fires
and field trips
and infomercials
and unaffordable abortions
and MTV
and Show and Tell
and homeless people
and freemason bolo ties.
You’re sick
You’re sick
She said she just wanted to know what it felt like.
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 4:33 AM UTC
Why had Andy chose to quit smoking?
He had no job,
no ambitions,
no passions.
No reason for salient speculation on the beaming waters
of the immaculate Pacific horizon from those unaffordable balconies
you see in movies, with sports cars rushing toward them on
that unnamed California byway.
**** them all,” he thinks, crinkling the now emptied package.
He'd rather be reformed and forgiven
or punished for what he‘s done.
Not both.
Stretched on the rack for his failure.
To acquire a Malibu suite.
To cup silicone *******
To fix the loose handle on their porch‘s door,
and smile while reciting, “I do.”
“One more won’t hurt,” says Andy,
as the woman in his shirt wraps her hands
around the shoulders.
The cloud circles his head, as they laugh about the sunset.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
She was a victim of my creative stimulus,
But I, no Frankenstein.
Great change brings sudden fear.
In brutal honesty,
Could she perhaps see I was the one dead searching for life through her all along.
All along I the sheet of paper that's become delicate to the wither of her hand.
The ideals and sketches
Alert that any moment I could be *** up and thrown to the side.
Without the modest nod of ink from her pen.
With careful eyes, thoughts only divert so long.
My hand longs to touch
But my mind is not so such anymore.
At this point religion became unaffordable.
I now suffered misery of a different sort, not wanting to lose what we've created.
I Feared she'd flee once she sees me for what I really am
A hideous creature searching for an perpetual sense of resurrection with
The acceptance of growing old with someone
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
—
neglect and respect do not rhyme,
**{will grant you one,
will give you none.
will demand one,
will send you some.
you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.
***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.
I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.
work and ****
do rhyme.
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.
work by day,
slave by night.
awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me
lately?
IF
all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.
was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.
your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
extraordinaire,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}**
WHAT,
what do you stand for?
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 3:34 PM UTC
I can be an angel with my wings alight with fire
take flight and sing as part of one large
flaming choir, or I could be
the depths you want to see
as you look into the ocean,do
you want me to become
the fun in the fun house,the titmouse that makes you squeal,the breath on your lips that make you feel so very, very nice or the unaffordable price that I won't make you pay and
the heat of your day turned into the spice of my night
the shade on the lamp light or the shadow you find as you tune slowly in to what's going on in my mind?
Would it bother you to know that I'm as slow as a snail
would you sail as quickly to this dangerous shore
and be grounded,
though not wrecked as I want more and more of you? do
you think when you sink into sleep that the angel with the wings on fire is there just for the heavenly choir and not for you
did you never believe that your dreams would come true
and if they could would you be
as happy as me
when I'm watching you sleep as I stand guard and keep
the nightmares away?
Sail quickly into this bay
let us lay down and die while our cries fade away
making love in the forenoon
what a wonderful way
what a day to begin.
I am the slave of desire
take hold of my wings and put out this fire that drenches me,quench my thirst,burst me apart and then look into my heart and what do
you feel as I peel off my skin layer by layer
will you say a prayer as we enter?
The pupil and the mentor and which is which but one and the same and oh what lessons to make games from.
The bomb explodes
the fires die down
I open these eyes that have seen so much more than the breakfasts of dreams in a bowl,
upturned and empty on the cold bedroom floor
I want some law to be enacted that would stop these distractions that brings mornings to life and send eyes open wide, where once again I'm beside myself with the passion of loss.
As I burn so I learn and I feel the need to read between the lines, which are the scratches upon the faces from some other times
or lines of other rhymes we have read and lost or ****** away into the bottom drawer.
There has to be more than I see
more than me
more than we or what we become
more fun as we squeal and we feel what we are
something that lies somewhere behind the distance of the distant star
or another bar on the fruit machine
that bandit we see but have never seen
let me think on, and in dreams I'll belong
to the truth of the night
with fiery wings I'll take flight and we'll
start all over again.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
A palace on the clouds
A dream on my skin
A love unaffordable
A life in my rein
Shallow doubts
on the existence
I know not who I am
A part of the resistance
Anyone can run
Some may still fight
But I shall stop
Jump off the horizon
A sea of serenades
Awaiting my return
A time of waiting
A time to mourn
Break a glass ceiling
emblazon the heart
With a wail of the proud
A never-ending run
A forlorn start
A piece of the brave
A piece of the strong
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Cobblestones, colorful, decorate paths
Like tiny, petite mosaics in swaths
They lead to something dreadfully fathomable
What it is and what it wants are all but unaffordable.
I walk along the road, a naïve maiden blue
Stretching past the town, it was sun-lit too.
A moment to ponder came in my mind
A second to escape, an instant to die.
Everything goes on just as it is.
Grasses of evergreen hug and kiss.
Aqua skies unfold their maps
As I wander still, not knowing of the gaps.
Soon after, the masses become grey
Horrifying red splashes me away.
I come face-to-face with one I'll never forget
A beauty at its shell, a gun in its net.
Captivating, electrifying beams and grins
They capture a lady's soft heartstrings.
They twist them into vines of terror, all fine
And make them into fishing lines, thus meant to dine.
What may be is what you believe
A last solemn moment recalls the eve.
The days of sweet, blithe roses are gone
In place are thorns, emerged and raw.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
You know how it is,
the lady tells me,
Growing up with five siblings
In South Philly
The look in her eyes,
mistrust and scorn,
tells me that she doesn't believe me.
I tell her,
Growing up in a third world country,
where you only eat once a day,
where you get electricity for two hours max,
running water even less,
where everything is an unaffordable luxury
You know how it is?
Living in a one room apartment
cohabited by cockroaches,
married by age 16,
dead by age 30,
You know how it is?
Being homeless for so long
that clothes are literally
sewn into skin
You know how it is?
But I don't.
How it is is not a competition,
not a sick, perverse way to measure
who hurts the most, whose life
represents disaster best.
I nod.
It is how.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
This government’s greed’s cut into my need
By taxing tobacco smoke,
I needed my **** to concentrate,
They’ve turned it into a joke.
So how many lines of poetry
I’ll never be able to write,
All for the sake of the Nanny State
Insisting I quit tonight.
I see it as persecution of
The few of us that are left,
Turning us into a cash cow that
Has left us feeling bereft.
I thought that the days of fascists died
In the bunker with Hitler’s crew,
We seem to have re-elected them,
They’re telling us what to do.
We should be allowed to live our lives
The way that we always did,
Making our personal choices then
And not be ruled by the quid.
They keep on edging their taxes up
To make us submit by stealth,
By making it unaffordable,
They say it’s all about health.
What will they do when we all give up
And they find all their coffers bare?
What will they find to tax us then
To make up the smoker’s share?
Maybe they’ll tax the pollies perks
That they vote themselves at night,
Whenever the world’s not watching them,
But that never happens - Right?
We seem to be ruled by a den of thieves
Who make up rules as they go,
Their arrogance you would not believe
As they crush the ordinary Joe.
It’s time that we formed a voting block
To target the safest seats,
And toss out the whole corrupted lot
By dumping them out in the streets.
David Lewis Paget
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
An empty chest
A stomach of pain
Swirling thoughts
Around in my brain
Countless hours
No time to live
Everything I am
I have to give
There's no point
Unless there's love
An endless equation
No one can solve
Day by day
It's all the same
Misery and sarrow
With someone to blame
Are you living?
Finding happiness
Or are you surviving?
Combatting mental illness
No courage to get help
Independence is key
Aid is unaffordable
Never free
Kindness of the innocent
A beacon of light
Someone to follow
Out of the black night
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 2:25 AM UTC
My parallel would not be you
Voice/soul/essence of soil
That I sink my feet into eagerly
For its coolness
Against the stones littered tarmac
A strange sight; behold!
Straying far from home ; a luxury unaffordable
Not worth the ruin, not right the game
Chance gambles a shame to the sweetness
You exhale; my heart wanes
Candy forever out of reach; my lips quiver
Succulence so overwhelming I stagger; err
Before remembering its not my place to destroy
What has yet to be tarnished by his demons
Let it slip slip away
My dreams they await
A haven to gaze and delight
Diluted goods never felt better.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:54 PM UTC
Sitting here
with beer in hand
drinking
awaiting better days
but the better days are so few
and the dull nights grow longer
so I crack another open
and discard the last
empty as me
to the corner
not sure how many this has been now
not sure. . .
days. . bottles. . . whatever
drowning aching thoughts
consuming
waiting
for something
maybe for the phone to ring
or a visit from the ones
who have forgotten you
but the women you want
come too late
the ones you dont
come to frequent
neither really care much
they will outlive you anyway
most likely
most do
drinking
away the money
you would otherwise spend
on unaffordable things
that you dont really need
as you cast another
to the pile
bottles upon bottles
in bins
and bags
clattering on a cluttered table
along with crumpled retrospection
hell. . . .
at least there is a bright side
Michigan does have a 10 cent bottle deposit
in which you can take them back
to buy more beer
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 2:43 PM UTC
All this destruction
Is an unaffordable construction
Of an escape door.
Sometime simple, sometimes more.
What did I want?
What did he want?
They say people are better than objects
I think not
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC