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Cedric McClester Oct 2015
By: Cedric McClester

We hail our system but what of the victims
That it’s taken along the way
And if change is coming (then why are we running)
What does that really say
We need a suture not fear of the future
Especially when it’s in play
Now that may not suit ya
But this is a brand new day

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

The Wall Street collapse presents us these facts
Some people think greed is good
And now that the onus (is on the big bonus)
We’re questioning whether they should
It doesn’t make sense to reward incompetence
No logical person would
Be that as it may (they do anyway)
And that’s why they’re misunderstood

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

Health care and education (advances a nation)
But some say it’s too socialist
To underwrite it (and so they fight it)
But the larger point’s what they miss
So what if we’re wealthy
If our people aren’t healthy
And they lack good educations
What does that say about us anyway
When rated among other nations

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

Now we’ve criticized those who’ve devised
Schemes that produced no labor
But let’s try to surmount it (and think about it)
Pehaps they’ve done us a favor
By making us see regulation is key
Before things get much graver
I think y’all know by doing so
It might prove to be a life saver

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

Health care and education (advances a nation)
But some say it’s too socialist
To underwrite it (and so they fight it)
But the larger point’s what they miss
So what if we’re wealthy
If our people aren’t healthy
And they lack good educations
What does that say about us anyway
When rated among other nations

We hail our system but what of the victims
That it’s taken along the way
And if change is coming (then why are we running)
What does that really say
We need a suture not fear of the future
Especially when it’s in play
Now that may not suit ya
But I'm saying it anywy


Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2015.  All rights reserved.
Golden Ratio May 2010
Roll up,
Roll up, 
Come and get your good news here.
My words are what you yearn. 
They will say what you want to hear.

I will gain your trust,
with tales of old,
some that you can't remember.
But don't dispair.
If I don't hit a nerve,
there are plenty more to nurture.

I will summon you a line,
of generic circumstance.
Sibling rivalry, 
never fails.
Empowerment to enhance. 

Was big bro the favourate? 
Were you always in his shadow?
Didn't daddy love you?
Do you need me to save you?

Wait...
I hear a voice.
He tells you not to fret.
He always loved you really,
even though it was never said.

And should you change,
your job?
your wife?
your life of discontent?

You will know,
just what to do,
when the time is meant.

Now off home you must wander,
With the gems you have collected,
and I too must depart,
to new venues heaven selected.

The same sermon I will preach,
to more gullible lost souls,
who fill my cash box even higher,
and underwrite my art of control.
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

We hail our system but what of the victims
That it’s taken along the way
And if change is coming (then why are we running)
What does that really say
We need a suture not fear of the future
Especially when it’s in play
Now that may not suit ya
But this is a brand new day

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

The Wall Street collapse presents us these facts
Some people think greed is good
And now that the onus (is on the big bonus)
We’re questioning whether they should
It doesn’t make sense to reward incompetence
No logical person would
Be that as it may (they do anyway)
And that’s why they’re misunderstood

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

Health care and education (advances a nation)
But some say it’s too socialist
To underwrite it (and so they fight it)
But the larger point’s what they miss
So what if we’re wealthy
If our people aren’t healthy
And they lack good educations
What does that say about us anyway
When rated among other nations

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

Now we’ve criticized those who’ve devised
Schemes that produced no labor
But let’s try to surmount it (and think about it)
Pehaps they’ve done us a favor
By making us see regulation is key
Before things get much graver
I think y’all know by doing so
It might prove to be a life saver

Our system needs a supply of victims
And unfortunately that seems to be us
If you understand capitalism demands
An economy that goes boom or bust

Health care and education (advances a nation)
But some say it’s too socialist
To underwrite it (and so they fight it)
But the larger point’s what they miss
So what if we’re wealthy
If our people aren’t healthy
And they lack good educations
What does that say about us anyway
When compared to other nations

We hail our system but what of the victims
That it’s taken along the way
And if change is coming (then why are we running)
What does that really say
We need a suture not fear of the future
Especially when it’s in play
Now that may not suit ya



(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
How could I,
The double-faced
WHO’s current leader,
On par with
A chieftain
Brigade general,
Tightlipped attend
My diabolic
Party’s funeral?

Though for
My criminal
Party’s tragic end,
Bereaved,
I have to sob,
I must labor
To garner
The pity of
The credulous, elites
As well as
The mob
Round the globe.

At the same time
Dollars I have
To underwrite
In a bid remaining
Impish junta members
Beef up their might
Armed again
To wage a fight!

After ENDF’s law
Enforcement operation,
“I know not
The whereabouts of
My nephew,
In Micadra’s massacre,
Who might have
Victimized a few!”

Blood is thicker
Than water
Thus about
Genocide victims
Why should
I bother?
By defector as
I’m also
A victimizer.

I forgot
I’ve to seek
A scapegoat,
Though it was
The junta
Who released thugs
And cut throats
Before defeat
So that
They could
Run amok
To wreak havoc
—**** & looting—
I will dish out stories
In order hints not
To the gun the smoke!
If handsomely paid
Some media outlets
Could reverse the talk.
For the double-faced DR.Twedros,WHO"s current leader. He is being exposed by Genuine Ethiopians across the globe specially via twitter.Also read my earlier poem about him Like likes like.
I am a refugee from the City upon a Hill.

My homeland once a resounding light to the nations; has become a convulsing black hole, threatening to devour any semblance of civility.

My City, once a radiant promontory of enlightenment, its illumination of liberty’s searing torch revered, it’s practical striving for democratic wisdom shaping the long arc of the moral universe emulated by people of good will across the globe; now lies in state as a mordant corpse, serenaded by a funereal chorus of laughing griffins, a dead patriarch surrounded by the ruins of a once opulent now sacked city, a bygone home to the scattered disassemblage of a once noble people.

I recoil from the rancor of extreme partisanship, the gerrymandered apportionment of citizenship rights, the buoyant vindictiveness celebrated by small minded ignorance.

The blind allegiance to jingoistic nationalism, the adulation of Blueline authoritarianism, the fealty to imperial militarism and the dangerous trajectory of it’s awful consequence yet to come, enthralls me with dread.

Compelled patriotism enforced by threats of faux patriots, amoral ammosexuals, their small hands stroking quick triggers of long guns, genuflecting in mastabutory glee to the preeminence of 2nd Amendment atrocities, angling crosshairs of resentments to firmly fix a promise of ghoulish body counts, a rationalized apocalypse a captive people must suffer to underwrite profiteering gunrunners who blindly defile the constitutional tenets of life, liberty and happiness, the blood splattered keystones of our true exceptionalism.

Xenophobia and racialism, are stoked and celebrated by the City’s chief executive, his impish smile mouths Blood and Soil sloganeering, he solemnly salutes the Confederate flag while cheering torchlight processions of enraged White Nationalists marching to the drum of the Grand Republic’s midnight dirge along the once hallowed trail of Jeffersonian Democracy and a sacred place of secular enlightenment and higher learning. His gleeful decrees tweet the destruction of families and his police agents mouth holy scriptures to justify the imprisonment of children.  These vandals rhapsodically paint images of phantasmagoric nightmares trampling and mocking democratic ideals, resurrecting long settled conflicts, terrible tests a once great City rose to extinguish, now swelling numbers of craven citizens ardently embrace Klansmen, insurrectionists and ****’s as righteous brethren.

The madness of chauvinism and racial supremacy has fully metastasized within the body politic, polluting the mind, infecting the bloodline with a virulent strain of a white blood cell disease coursing through the veins of republican citizenship.

A City stolen from the Native inhabitants, ethnically cleansed and its former inhabitants remanded to the prisons of reservations, a City constructed on the backs of chattel slaves, erected on the graves of exploited wage laborers, provisioned by the ruthless denigration of the earth’s bounty, law and order mandated by criminalizing the marginalized, repressing the civil liberties of outliers and subjecting women to a perpetual status as the second *** underclass; has failed to repent and steadfastly refuses to make reparations for its sinful past has made the City uninhabitable.

The embrace of tolerance and diversity is the balm, the curate that can salve the oozing sores crippling the City. Nativist prejudice is a long protracted path that City citizen’s find impossible to exit. The malevolence that consumes the mind and moves the soul of a desperately spiteful people, who take delight and find it necessary to dehumanize and imprison alien races and creeds to maintain vapid notions of superiority, profane the ideals of a republican calling. They ruefully ignore the beacon of light warning of the dangerous shoals that lay ahead. The ideals of the great democratic experiment on course to be dashed on the jagged rocks of ignorance, fear, and anger. The doomed City has set a course that endangers its embargoed citizens. Travelling in steerage, a captive body, believing they are on a course for the rebirth of the City’s greatness are emboldened and chained by the delusions of their self destructive steadfast resentments.

My home City has become unknown to me.  I have become a stranger in this strange land. What was once beloved has become insufferable. What was once treasured has become burdensome. The familiar has become fully alien. A terrible avenging apparition haunts and mocks people of good will. My heart is disheveled. My spirit bruised. My body literally aches from the wounds exacted from the deconstruction of my beloved metropolis.

I stand stranded at the border of incivility. Bewildered I peer through a protective wall of concertina wire, eyeing the imprisoned haughty souls of fully enfranchised citizens, bellowing self righteous psalms, singing interminable lamentations of terminal ignorance.

Condemned by their belief in the salvation of violence and recrimination, secure in their faith that their moat of self righteousness shelters them from the gulags of perdition they eagerly proclaim for others, feeling recused from the bane of sinfulness by meager tithes, tumidity and scriptural specificity and the sweet delusional conviction they are the chosen tribe of God’s favor; their aspirations viscerally dashed in blizzards of metaphysical illusion strewn like meaningless confetti onto a passing parade of barbarians who have taken the City as its grandest prize.

Sadly I must withdraw from my beloved City. I retreat to a refuge where the barbarians dare not enter. Their ignorance and stasis weds them to a place far from my sanctuary of choice. May my sanctuary restoreth my soul!

I find refuge in the temples of jazz. I sing arias of lucent improvisation. The freedom of unbridled expression reinvigorates the mind, alighting the emanation of our better angels. The music calibrates my soul with the syncopated beat of an irrepressible life force, the humanity of my welling heart swells on the sonorous oxygen of a lyrical free spirit.

I take refuge in our vanishing mountain wilderness. The natural world offers a solace of solitude, a unrequited impression of scale and a transcendent communion immune from the trampling cacophony of gleeful vandals running rampant through the streets of the City. In winter the summits are capped in crowns of viginal snow, spring awakens a dormant flora, autumn leaves shout the chorus of a seasons glory and summer flowers bloom in multitudes of brilliant colors marking a startling contrast to the fifty shades of gray tattooed onto the City’s restive souls by the purveyors of power.

I find respite on the friendly banks of rivers and breeze swept ocean shores. The perfume wafting along a rivers streaming eddies or a briney snort gulped from the foam of a cresting wave invigorates the lungs, strengthens the heart and clears the mind. The flow of living water heals lifes wounded spirit. It quenches a thirst for justice and nourishes the hope of freedom for all incarcerated souls. The ceaseless roll of the ocean waves prove the enduring power and inevitability of liberty.

I find a good refuge in books. Here I discover a fleeting glimpse of our forgotten love of knowledge and pursuit of truth and rational thought. Enlightenment is the plot of every storyline.

I take refuge in art. I escape into the multiple dimensions of aesthetic beauty trouncing the twittering banality of fad, pornographic affectations and consumer fethishism. Glimpsing beauty while beauty is there to behold and the diligent practice of its creation is an answer to a higher calling.

I take refuge in my dog. Unconditional love and trusted friendship are values at peril in a transactional world; virtues nobily demonstrated and freely given by our canine and feline friends.

I take refuge in late night comedy. Working the midnight shift, whistling past the graveyard with a hearty laugh helps to while away the desperate hours. The rancid fruits of our labor leave a bitter taste in our mouths, humor is the bread of life that clears the palate and makes the terrible sufferable.

My lasting sanctuary is the stronghold of faith, forbearance and tolerance. I trust the long arc of justice will bend toward the righteous and offer a pathway of redemption for all desecrated souls.

I take refuge in the Blues. Let my lamentations turn to songs of joy and deliverance.

I take refuge in prayer. May my places of exile restore and heal my denigration. May God deliver us to a good destination. May our generational wanderings in the desert of desolation end in the discovery of a good place of habitation.

In the solitude of prayer may I experience catharsis, may my petitions find an open ear, may I achieve clarification, may my pious supplication be genuine , my conviction firm, a direction found, a decision made, a call to action clear.  May I become a healer of the breach.

May Your grace be sufficient for me.

I declare my exile over. I will return to my City. I will attempt to rekindle the extinguished flame of liberty to dispel the darkness enveloping my City.

Selah.

Mark Almond: The City

Puyallup
6/30/18
jbm
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2018
We’ve had forever to get it right
  this religion we hold dear

But why the ****** and ‘holy wars’
  that underwrite our fear

We stand in judgment and wield belief
  with weapons poorly thrown

Our eyes rejecting while spirit’s cry
  —our futures poorly sown

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)
Her geometry
does court
her doctor  
***** those
exactly with
feeling then
her lore  
was to
true that
made it
an underwrite
that her
partisan inured
by which
those suits
desire herd
in droves.
KV Srikanth May 2021
Looking to duplicate
Personalities alternate
Entire life dedicate
Personality to integrate

Intellect and achievement
Rated high and respected
Succeeded where you failed
On a higher pedestal placed

Leads to a disorder
You become your own reporter
Narrating events like a news reader
Reality is you want them to underwrite your behavior


Seeking ratification
Under the assumption
Of their ability to function
Cause of all the confusion


This is the very foundation
Where acts and thoughts become dependent
On their ratification
Thinking it's the final Solution


Dependency is a disease
Where you are at ease
Responsibility lies with these
Who make your decision making process a breeze


Every major or minor decision
Calling for their attention
Forcing them into a conclusion
Strengthening the equation

Emotional dependence
Two sides of the same weapon
You can never fathom
Life without their wisdom

Without your knowledge
Comes the whole package
Lived life under their tutelage
Own life unable to manage


When not on the same page
You earn their displeasure and rage
When and where did all this oringinate
The day you started becoming their baggage

Updating and hoping
They approve your actions
Laying out future desires
Expecting like minded answers

Asking for advice
Yearning for guidance
Learning a life'llesson
Can be forgiven


Stage of conclusion
Because of your dependence
End up a nuisance
Affecting their existence
Your presence no more a pleasant experience

Unpardonable the act
To keep your life in track
Using ploys to attract
Their time spent in you intact

An addiction by definition
Without any consideration
Operating under the notion
Your lifes quest their only option

Time and Privacy respected
Best way to stay endeared
Time and privacy hindered
Perfect reason to be cornered

Their time taken for granted
The mistake committed
Too late to realise
Your mistake already transcended

A baggage not worth to carry
Your life they need not worry
Get your life in order
Either way it doesn't matter

As with any addiction
Answer lies in detoxification
Celebrate your uniqueness
Learn to live with the consequence

Looking to be funded
Seems like life has ended
Financial dependence paves
For Relationships decadance

Even bread and butter
If unable to muster
Seeking outside a blunder
Die it doesn't matter

Hobbies and collections
Seasonal and flippant
Want to possess them
Bad luck live without them
When you subsidize
my excess
You underwrite
my greed
Each payment made
my hunger craves
And gluttoned passion
— needs

(Dreamsleep: December, 2024)
Ryan O'Leary Sep 22
.              It’s my writing pad,
               I don’t possess a
               bower, nor a muse
               either, unless one
               considers pain an
               abstract influencer.

                I’m the anonymous
                laureate uncrowned,
                crayons and cheap
                chalk my mediums,
                so, I’m not indelible,
                or, indeed, infallible!

                 Not a Banksy, that’s
                 for sure, nobody has
                 opted to underwrite
                 or plagiarize any of
                 my contributions, but,
                 Roger Waters looked!

— The End —