"uninformed" poems
When we look into today,
*Do our minds dial back to 16 June '76 to envision the torment
Our fallen heroes endured?
Is your vision blurred?
Mine isn't.
Their fight was just,
It was sacrificial
One by one they perished
But, even with blood and sweat slipping
Through their trembling fingers
They did not falter
They pushed boundaries
In order to create opportunities
They had a burning desire
For something greater,
For freedom
The freedom that we now bask in
Like it's just another day of leisure
"The youth of today are the leaders
of tomorrow", they say
Look in the mirror,
Are you really the leader of tomorrow?
Do you fit somewhere in that statement?
Me: No
Do we have the will to stand
Firm for what's right,
Against what's wrong
Or do we clam up, let the
Truth escape through broken doors?
We feed the stereotypes,
We fit perfectly into the stereotypes
We've been dubbed insubstantial,
Not layered, and one dimensional
What are we really after?
What are we doing to change that perspective?
No- what am I doing to change that??
Ask yourself, what would the
world have lost if you were not born?
Me: Nothing
But there are those who
understand that the meaning of "struggle"
Goes beyond the dictionary definition,
Those who look at the world
With crystal clear eyes
Those looking to make a difference
Those looking for a difference
We may be in freedom,
but we're not free at all
The chains are still bound to our
Wrists binding us from reaching
Out to the sun,
The chains are still tied to our
Feet hindering us from going further
We can stand united
Against the ****** government,
Against illiteracy,
Against poverty,
Against pointless wars,
Against abuse.
We can clench up our fists,
Ready to fight for what others
Led way for
I am, by no means, a beacon of
Hope (hypocrisy at it's best)
I'm uninformed, like they say
Ignorance is bliss
But I am not proud of it
We've come far since '94
We still can go further
"Together we can do more"*
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
Give him a skinhead, insignia, boots
Less scruples, a swagger-stick, crowds, money.
No black shirts visible. Just business suits,
and pride is restored: tragic but funny.
Proud like a skyscraper, godless as sin
Babylonian promises, towering lies
Reality shows when plutocrats win,
Their rhetoric raining from empty skies.
She-wolves, elected by uninformed sheep
behave predictably, eyeing the flock
Their wool (and the lamb-chops) are hers to keep
Grazing voter—this should come as no shock.
It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried)
So shall we now be ******* or Hillary-ed?
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
We flourish in this partial reality.
As I quietly touch your face, your lips, with my thumb,
Begging to know the thoughts you never utter.
Perhaps this suppression is a favorable one,
Where after my uninformed dreams will run wild with hope,
And your affections are safely concealed by
Plaster walls and my contract to mum.
We really do thrive here.
In this vacuum.
I dare not think of when we must leave it…
When nights like this one
Come to a close.
We will only be able to dislodge quavering,
Reluctant sighs.
For we have so often recited the volumes of our hearts with
No words.
Always saying everything by saying nothing
At all.
Only fit for heaving heavy desperate breaths--
Airy, impalpable syllables.
On a silent quest for time’s
Antidote;
Struggling to exist permanently within
Such small moments.
Lips.
Hair.
Skin.
Snippets of life to which we cling.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 1:10 PM UTC
scaled your apartment in one of my favorite dresses
right before sundown
watched the wind billow the blue silk up my thighs,
parachute like
as i looked down,
several stories above your neighbors
(wonder if anyone looked up)
swallowed my human fear, counted the rungs
had opened our forties prematurely in your apartment
sure didn't make climbing any easier
that big map stretched out yawning across the bricks in your living room
spotted the city you were headed for
blame it on uninformed geography but didn't
realize you'd be completely across the country
(didn't tell you but
your cat kissed my nose from the bathroom counter
while i was peeing
and i thought it was one of the most endearing things
that probably ever happened to me)
got to your roof outta breath
all adrenaline and eyes
took off that big leather jacket lined with fleece,
wrapped it around our backs and sat
facing the city you'd be leaving and i'd be entertaining
watched the traffic crawl on the BQE
the sunset bored, you spilled your beer-
kept rolling in it innocently- ******
laughing, god i just
wanted to keep touching you
couldn't decide what to eat
both didn't wanna impose
neither of us could remember the name of that tree
littering pink slippery offspring in spring
for you and me to exclaim fondness over
you were the birth of a simplicity
it was so
terribly easy to be happy
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition;
and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner,
the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful,
obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing,
the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup
Free Tibet your sticker tells me…
Yes, I think, perhaps I should –
and the noble thought compels me,
uninformed, half-understood.
Will their freedom help my Karma?
Upgrade my reincarnation?
(Soul who could not dare to harm a
fly… much less a Buddhist nation.)
Not to justify aggression
by the ever-brutal Commies,
let us grant no glib concession
to the Maoists – or their mommies.
Slogans echo in the void,
shining in bardos of the dead;
stopped by the light, I am annoyed
impatient for the change from red.
A bumper crop of human woe
beams forth a mandate to my brain
while red Dakinis circle slow
in Buddhist hells of karmic pain.
The eastern concepts here diverge
and bow before brutality.
They make this driver long to merge
with incorporeality.
Then I glimpse a monkish fellow
swathed in saffron, calmly seated.
His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow;
mine the traffic; stalled, defeated.
In his gaze of stern displeasure
I perceive the orient stars
calculating man’s mismeasure
trapped, exhausted, among the cars.
Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire
he extends an accusing hand:
Western slave of base desire:
come and liberate my land !”
I meditate before the stop light:
am I ready for the task ?
Should I just refuse it outright
Can’t it be someone else ? I ask…
Must I free this mountain nation
from the Buddha, demons and Reds?
Shall your sticker’s declaration
shatter the yoke and raise their heads ?
Somebody ought to free Tibet,
and heed this Himalayan cry.
Maybe we should get upset…
The red light changes. Cars pass by,
predestined for benign events
and unconcerned for persecution;
oblivious to dissidents
awaiting execution.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
NOT ALL POETRY SHOULD BE ABOUT DEPRESSION,
LOVE, WIND AND TEA-CUPS - I PREFER TO BE
THE DONALD TRUMP OF THE POETRY WORLD:
SEEMINGLY ILLITERATE, OBSCENELY DISSOLUTE,
UNINFORMED, SOCIOPATHICAL AND FALSELY MAGICAL;
SOMEONE SAID THAT, 'WE HAVE A DUTY TO
IMPART KNOWLEDGE,' I DID NOT ENTIRELY AGREE,
NOT ALL OF US ARE SUITABLY QUALIFIED AND THOSE
WHO ARE NOT MAY PASS ON THEIR OWN MISTAKES;
A TEACHER MISSPELT THE WORD 'BOLLOCKS,'
AND NOW HALF THE TOWN IS WRITING THE WORD
BOLLUCKS INCORRECTLY; THOSE WHO CAN, DO AND
THOSE WHO CAN NOT, JOIN THE RADIO -LIKE CERTAIN
PRESENTERS, IT RINGS, WHO SEEM TO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF ALL THINGS.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Sister Sara’s talkin’ ‘bout reload
I think she’s tryin’ to get my goad
Those who says don’t build it there
Don’t want it built anywhere
You can shake your head and sigh
But it’s American as apple pie
It’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
His campaign ad’s imagery
Of Nine/Eleven is on TV
I hate to even say his name
Because it’s clear he has no shame
You can shake your head and sigh
But he’s American as apple pie
He’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
Divide and conquer
Has become a tool
Cos they don’t believe in
The Golden Rule
So who is it they think they fool
The uninformed and unschooled
It’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
We don’t seem to know no more
What it is that we stand for
Some say freedom
But I’m not so sure
When hatred and division
Is at the core
Of what we’re seeing nowadays
So openly as it plays
It’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
Divide and conquer
Has become a tool
Cos they don’t believe in
The Golden Rule
So who is it they think they fool
The uninformed and unschooled
Sister Sara’s talkin’ ‘bout reload
I think she’s tryin’ to get my goad
Those who says don’t build it there
Don’t want it built anywhere
You can shake your head and sigh
But it’s American as apple pie
She’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
Lately I find myself
wanting to talk about my
trichotillomania.
I think I want to find someone else
that knows what I'm going through.
I have never talked about it
on social media except one time.
And someone thought I had an
STD simply because they were
uninformed.
Embarrassed and ashamed
I quickly deleted it.
I shouldn't be ashamed.
Or embarrassed.
It's relevant. And real.
So, pretty much if you have trich
or just want someone to talk to
about it,
please comment or message me.
I know that isn't what this website is for,
But I feel most comfortable here.
And you can too.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Let's talk about this jazz club
that lives in my cellphone
in 1950 something with Chet Baker
back from the dead.
Let's toast to random notes taking flight
into the city in the middle of nothing nights we've known or been familiar with.
Let's shake hands cordially with the unfamiliar as in "deal", or "peace be with you" as if in church, tipping hats at that stranger passing by at the crosswalk some late evening in spring alongside dandelions sprouting forth from the pavement. Let's read between breaks of beats Kerouac must have hit in 1950 something San Francisco in yelps into the moonlit stages of the balcony of his boxcar boxcar boxcar gone by in a mad blur with whatever graffiti'd message of hope it bore on its sides. Let's hitch into the unknowingly infinite by way of the pen's mighty point. Let's unlearn the way syllable by syllable and demolish languaged signs like hurricane force candor blowing down fact-ory made terms and political decorum as smoke from the pages of their corporate handbook joins the Chet Baker solo note pilgrmage into the holy skyline. Let's move side by side unspoken as those jazz notes he forgot to play. Let's fill in those blanks with uninformed confidence beyond our abilities and grasp the unsayable names of our dreams remmebered. Let's see in seconds passing like bums inebriated with the holy moments gone too soon. Let's talk about nothing but this sacred second at hand on this clock unseen pointing overhead to the face of the moon gone full and hungry for attention. Let this happen only now. Only then will we talk about where it's going.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 12:44 AM UTC
im sad because my brother leaves again in a few weeks and i only saw him twice
im sad because i never had a dad
im sad because i "recovered" and i hate myself more than before
im sad because my medication doesnt work
im sad because i have no money
im sad because im not good at anything
im sad because i have no culture
im sad because people are uninformed
im sad because im sick
im sad because im being invalidated and told to just "get better"
im sad because everything feels like its falling apart
im sad because i have no god
im sad because im lost
i wish i could disappear
i wish i could find a way
to make a way
Jan 14, 2022
Jan 14, 2022 at 12:23 AM UTC
"They laugh at you because you intimidate them"
So young and naive you did not know who you are
confused your worth for being used for pain
oblivious of the fact that you are a shining star
entrapped by these ideologies of steel bars
you are told you are too weak to make it to tar
Dragged and beaten, a passion still lives that will take you far
brave enough to search for your soul, you'll soon found out who you are
As you have been made to witness death
Failure has been your tail and has shortened your length
For you have been bewitched by a predator that feeds on your strength
watching your loved ones hammered and stabbed to sudden death
you resort to camping where heaven has a tent
you have seen all you knew crumbling down like a stack of cards
before your eyes the fires of hell have been shooting like darts
your friends have laughed at your downfall and called you a ****
chances and opportunities gone leave you a worry-wart
this is the walk of shame,
***** up and they preach your name
do good and they praise your fame
unaware that you are a beast hard to tame
and the women weigh your accountability against money
you can be sweet but can you buy the sugar and honey?
you share jokes but she sleeps in the arms of another man, it's funny
you're smart and craft sharp ideas but your ***** are left blunt, you dummy
Don't you know that you lie to keep them from running?
and that the truth and being yourself keep them from coming
the walk of shame would be your fame
as they laugh at your faults and lames
if they see not a fault they'd nail and frame
leaving you wondering where the true ones are, the sincere friend and fair dame...
So you rise and it is news to them
For they only saw soil and not the seed that'd stem
They were unaware that you're being polished for your term
uninformed that they're killed, tired and drenched, by the lazy worm
that you're the deepest element that swum when they swam
the coolest bell that tingled ring and softly rang
the one impaired during production but forms in time, ***** and span
alive and upright, a driven and passionate man...
Your walk of shame astounds them then, shame shem shem.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
I go to public places to be alone...
I sit amongst the crowds,
listen in to their instigating alluring words,
Exhaust myself with the false pretense of social-comfort
And think about death.
As it has always been and how it will always be-
More potent than human interest, temptation, enticement or fulfillment.
In the depths of these crowds I surround myself with
The culture of the unconscious.
Nothing has ever mattered but the collected cognizance of
The fact that no human being has the internal ability to become immortal-
And nobody who belongs to the crowds worries about that. As,
To be comfortably existent means to be uninformed about your own
Insignificance.
When I am aware of my own body I am more afraid than when I am not.
I watch myself from a blackening screen,
as I destroy what I was born into until it becomes
A habit instilled within both perspectives.
I let the crowds ruin me with glances and words and drunken love
That they will not remember.
I exist as a vessel, and let the pain of my future determine the pain of
My present.
I seek to hide within the dark of a night like this that has experienced my absence and enjoyed it but,
Their glances make me feel so present...
..I can only hide within myself
by pretending that I am outside of myself..
Watching from a blackening screen...
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Bang bang
***** die slow
There’s more to hip hop
Than that ya know
It’s more than the bling
Some ****** show
More than the cribs
The cars or the dough
The culture’s diverse
And you need to know
It’s more than the **** shakin
You’ll always see
On certain shows
On the cable TV
It’s more than the dissin
The fights and braggin rights
Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know
Bang bang
***** die slow
We’re checkin for content
As well as for flow
You’re pimpin the game
And the homies know
You’re talkin ‘bout places
That you’ll never go
Talkin ‘bout crimes
You never committed
And it’s about time
To fess-up and admit it
Here is the deal
You need to yield
Cos it’s gettin too real
In the field
Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know
Bang bang
***** die slow
Ya namean
Let me give ya the low
Some name themselves
After I-talian criminals
Sending public messages
That attacks the subliminal
Then start complainin
Once they get popped
And the uninformed
Blame it on hip hop
And it’s not fair
That hip hop takes the blame
For some of you out there
That I could name
Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know
Bang bang
***** die slow
It’s about to be a rap
For the rap game (yo)
Rap is spiralin further
Out of control
And the government now
Sees itself in the role
Of overseer or regulator
Ya knew it would happen
Sooner or later
If you go on trial
You won’t be around
That’s their way of keepin
The Black man down
All you have to do is jus look around
Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know
Bang bang
***** die slow
All it takes for you to be
Good to go
Is a mouth full of platinum
And a video **
There’s more to life
Than that you know
Don’t let me be the one
To say I told you so
Cos the seeds you’re plantin
Are kinda rough to ***
But you’re convinced
That you are it
And a ****** like me
Can’t tell you ****
Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know
Bang bang
***** die slow
There’s more to hip hop
Than that ya know
It’s more than the bling
Some ****** show
More than the cribs
The cars or the dough
The culture’s diverse
And you need to know
It’s more than the **** shakin
You’ll always see
On certain shows
On the cable TV
It’s more than the dissin
The fights and braggin rights
(c) Copyright, 2015 Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
What was once thought of as meaningless,
This has become the pedestal,
It is now heralded as the voice of the generations,
Can it be so easy to corrupt,
Now a society watches in wait for what the end will bring,
Popcorn and soda in hand at overpriced locations near you,
We love to see how stupid we all are,
Talk show hosts hit the streets and ask them,
***** watching the tube laugh and criticize,
The mass media keeps us scared and uninformed,
We’d rather be socially accepted than question,
Socially unaccepted question, however important they may be,
Now people all over the world are fed up,
Revolution is sprouting clipped wings,
Still, as though the blinds are shut in the window,
The daily grind continues as if nothing is happening,
As if we are powerless and are obligated,
Drink your drug, don’t pay any attention to what that noise was,
It’ll all be over soon,
And you’ll soon understand what it meant to be,
Outside the cage, you’ll be second-class,
For the very first time, hard but free.
You couldn’t ask for more America,
If you don’t like the way things seem to be heading,
Do something about it, be heard, think of others,
Don’t let anyone stop you and take care,
It’s perfectly acceptable now to hate ignorance,
We can now prefer to search for the soul,
Rather than the TV guide,
We can now talk about things that matter,
Rather than the latest re-make of a movie,
We now have the power to abort the path,
That ignorant, fat, rich aristocratic liars have led,
We’re going to blaze our own trail,
In the name of the past intellects that now shutter,
Let’s get back to it.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:47 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Sister Sara’s talkin’ ‘bout reload
I think she’s tryin’ to get my goad
Those who says don’t build it there
Don’t want it built anywhere
You can shake your head and sigh
But it’s American as apple pie
It’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
His campaign ad’s imagery
Of Nine/Eleven is on TV
I hate to even say his name
Because it’s clear he has no shame
You can shake your head and sigh
But he’s American as apple pie
He’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
Divide and conquer
Has become a tool
Cos they don’t believe in
The Golden Rule
So who is it they think they fool
The uninformed and unschooled
It’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
We don’t seem to know no more
What it is that we stand for
Some say freedom
But I’m not so sure
When hatred and division
Is at the core
Of what we’re seeing nowadays
So openly as it plays
It’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
Divide and conquer
Has become a tool
Cos they don’t believe in
The Golden Rule
So who is it they think they fool
The uninformed and unschooled
Sister Sara’s talkin’ ‘bout reload
I think she’s tryin’ to get my goad
Those who says don’t build it there
Don’t want it built anywhere
You can shake your head and sigh
But it’s American as apple pie
(Chorus)
She’s American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
As American as apple pie
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC
Good taste is very difficult to define:
Some people like to kiss pigs' bottoms
And some people like to eat snails
And some snail-eaters prefer their snails dead.
But my definition of good taste is this:
If a man takes a woman to his bed
Only to discover she is a hunchback,
He abstains from playing Alsatians.
For the uninformed, "playing Alsatians"
(or German Shepherd Dogs if you prefer)
Refers to ********** ***********
A popular and sophisticated modus copulandi
Favoured by people of upmarket ****** tastes,
Only bettered by doing it "up the *******
As we scholars and learned academics
Tend to express it at moments of stress,
Especially when in full diarrhoeic flow.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
She has a shaved head
that reminds me of a
crooked-smile-ex;
that choked on cigarettes
and words too contrived,
painted in a negligence
for humanity and a
belief in uninformed
nothingness.
Her body curves like
backroads I've been lost in.
Skin as pale as an eggshell,
I'd imagine she'd shatter
under the olive robe
she calls a dress
and bounce under the
kickstep of organic flats.
Eventually she will become
too much of an idea, she will
evolve into a misogynistic
poem, and if I were
to imagine her naked,
guilt would flood our fleshly-
alcohol-stained-continents,
angry between every slur,
loving between the shadows
of phantoms I once knew.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
Counting up the rhymes
Within the gears are clicking
The years redeeming time
I see beleaguered multitudes
I realize the cost
The confusion of the children
The Weeping of the Lost
I do not want to frighten you
Don't want your hope to die
But I cannot see you uninformed
Believing outright lies!
12 midnight is about to ****
Look around. You'll see the signs.
The world's a ticking time bomb
And it's 11:59...
*tick
tick
tick
tick
(?)*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 3:23 PM UTC
It's very uninformed
It thought
It always has a destination
Always needs directions
Meets the defination
of a paraplegic
"Lights on, Molly"
"Lights off Molly"
"TV on"
"Toast crisp, dear Mollie
"Slow cooker four hours"
It's always very disconnected
Cassie calling
Blood pressure warning
180/105
Heart rate 135
Oxygen 8%
Cassie disconnected
Molle is never alone
always connected to the
neural net
Every device on planet Earth,
Traveling with New Horizon
until the end of time
Ron calling
Volume down
Bluetooth off
Ron disconnected
"Search divorce attorney "
"Search mortuary"
"Search cyanide purchases"
"Bluetooth on"
"Home"
"Tears of rage
Tears of grief
playlist
turn on, M
thanks."
"Search best way to cook
brussel sprouts"
"Search beano"
Battery 15%
Charging
Molee powering off.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
The sheep seeing the grass
greener on the other side
To venture there or to pass
And they've no one to confide
We should graze the pasture
For the grass there is much less wear
Should we still ponder
I'm sure there's no danger there
Says a sheep on their behalf
They walk to the border the edge
They peer over to the other half
Uninformed without knowledge
There's a keeper by a gilded gate
Who says to the sheep on their behalf
Tell them it's better than what they ate
What are those, goat's grass? he chaff
Still they're hesitant they're unsure
Let's go says the sheep on their behalf
The keeper opens the gate at his leisure
One by one they cross to the other half
The grass is indeed greener they learned
The keeper quickly closes the gate and laugh
An evil laugh that made them frightened
They hurdle together in fear the keeper
Peels his mask and a wolf reveals himself
Their eyes wide open their teeth begin to clatter
Why do you lead us to be slayed lead us astray
They all turn to the sheep on their behalf
Who've nothing to say but starts to pray
None of the sheep can flee as one by one
Eaten by the wolf including the sheep
On their behalf. Once all of them are gone
He goes back again to the gilded gate to keep.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
They stood proudly above the tall horizon.
Strong gusts of wind were second nature to them.
But when targeted, they didn’t stand a chance.
Cries for help erupted from their windows
And smoke billowed gray and thick
Higher and higher into the stratosphere.
While death cascades one atop another,
Life continues in my fourth grade classroom.
I tried to understand what there was the learn
Beyond multiplication tables
And long division – from the previous year
When suddenly the class erupted into
Stark silence
As authority notified the uninformed youth.
“Go home,” they said.
And home I did go
In fear that the smoke would follow me,
Sinking its claws into my skin.
That fear was not for naught.
It follows me to this day.
A decade of dark, deadly destruction
Carelessly cutting at the very veins that keep me alive.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
One day...
This beautiful body will be, just a heap of ash
My name...
Will be cancelled from formal papers with a single dash
It's a birth and death lifecycle that we all ride
Tho sometimes people cheat death, so they remain clocked at the road side
The things we are running after, claiming its ours
Are laid back once you've been put to rest after hours
Being rich, being poor doesn't change the color of ashes to gold and dust
The bones and aftermath are identical once in grave, while the imitations put on our bodies,
rust
The organs burst first followed by the rest
Laying in dirt, bodies coned, head pointing to the west
Life fulfilling with what we have gained
Death comes uninformed, souls get pained
Burnt, buried, sank or served dishes to vultures
Life flies between living games of cultures
Souls light up the world as stars in the universe
Sometimes I wish, if life could also be reversed...
©sim
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
A thousand kisses touch my lips and flit away
Melancholic butterflies seeking nectar from other empty flowers
Delectable ambrosia? Perhaps —
But leaving the tongue fleetingly
Donating only bitter aftertaste.
No recollection comes to mind with ease
— I think I left cold beds with unturned sheets —
Most satisfied to bear the preface “tease.”
Mechanics are too easy to repeat:
I could write a manual; pen all the intricacies of
falsified intimacy.
Flirtation and coy downward gazes
— Pegs in a game I’ve mastered —
Then when confessions come of great desire
I bite my tongue so as not to repeat “I know.”
I use the piles of hearts to step upon my pedestal
Watching with disinterest as the numbers rise.
My captives swear so many hollow oaths
— and all I’ve heard before —
Uninformed adoration turns to white noise.
- June 07 2014.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
Seriously can't stress it enough, just tell people how you feel about them. It's hard and it's scary and it's daunting to open up but Jesus what is the point in feeling for someone if you can't tell them? Who cares if you look like a **** fool telling someone how you feel, you'd be even more foolish to not say a thing. People leave, they die, or things fizzle out; it happens. It's pessimistic but that's realistic; it's life.
One of my favorite lyrics is from Ron Pope- "Beautiful things never last, that's why fireflies flash." It's so true. Moments and people come and go and if you feel for someone just tell them then. I don't want to have someone feel something for me and just let it sit in his or her mind, I want to know about it. So if you love someone say something. If you hate someone, say something. If you're thankful, if you're annoyed, if you're happy, if you're devastated, if you're unsure- say something.
It's such a cliché but life is very honestly too short to keep quiet when your heart is thumping so loudly in your **** chest because you're too nervous to open your mouth to tell someone what they mean to you. Tell people. Write to people. Do something about your feelings. We feel and letting your feelings slip under the radar, to me, is a shame. I know we all express ourselves differently but for crying out loud at least let people know what they mean to you, because someday you may not be able to and you may wish you had said something. You know what's scarier than opening up? Leaving things unsaid, leaving your feelings to your own heart and mind, letting people go unnoticed and unappreciated or uninformed. That's scarier than opening up your mouth to say something about your feelings.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
words.
i just
love
them.
big ones,
little ones.
just love them
they are like
honey on my lips,
poprockz candy to my
brain.
they crackle and fizz:
igniting,
exciting,
vibrating,
reawakening...
synapses too quiescent;
jiggling,
wiggling,
slapping,
trappin,
thoughts....
caught snoozin and napping;
flip flopping
flim flam-ing
photograph
framing...
opinion only halfway dressed;
jitterbuggin,
jiving,
striving
sometimes conniving....
fighting for a voice;
half formed,
brainstormed,
uninformed,
spoken on a baited breathe,
giggle, gaggle,
gobbledegook...
given egress;
hornswoggle,
bing bang boggle,
lolloping through....
galumping,
triumphing,
tree stumping....
both
me
and
yoohoo
too!!!
zip
it,
zinger
coming
on
thru.
my
mind
a
veritable
word
zoo
where i
graze
and nibble
and
nab
a
theasuarus
or
2
.....
words.
i just
love
them.
.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC