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this is a depth bomb cutting,
a midnight message for me,
a Zola accusatory,
“You make me think about death and doorways and sleep”

no mere paper cut incision,
bandaid and triple bacterial,
a forehead kiss
and a-on-your-way

nope serious business

death and doorways and sleep
and all that is in between,
nightly rehanging the me-moon,
on that curved tip

the onerous tasks of child raising,
you, the perp, the perpetual kid,
the holy version victim trinitized
too?

hanging your self right on that shining orbital,
leads to unquestionable answer processions
ahead of the unanswerable, they ask,
what’s behind the screen door of

death and doorways and sleep


life is hard,
but without questions,
it is unquestionably
harder

find the doorways.

this explains so little
and so more much.

reminder: make doorways - open them

11:10pm 4-10-19 ~ 10:31am 4-16-19

~for AH~
~for Wendy ~

with my almost two years old poetry advisor,
who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath,
of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors,
cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed,
snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets

as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation,
letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate
topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change,
and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else

which is greater, love or honor, she inquires,
sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor...
as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face,
insuring her having my full attention, while
taking advantage of my loving weakness

grandpa:
honor over everything my opening gambit,
while she coyly harrumphs in response,
one can love without reason for such are
our natural souls programmed,
but honor needs concentration and contemplation,
and if done right,
then love will surely follow!

She-Woman:
ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture,
cause love is too inexplicable,
old man, old man, did I not love you before
any season of reason crossed my brow,
and my vocabulary consisted of just
more, no, toy and hungry

what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct,
the definition of honor yet abstract,
while love is nature’s illogical construct,
coming first without restrictions,
while honor is malleable and
property of the eye of the beholder

grandpa:
wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct,
but while coming first, love cannot last,
until cover-coated with honor,
for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why,
honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say
yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested

She-Woman:
absent experience, for now will concede,
but be warned this is not over,
fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be

grandpa:
honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor,
comes the day that you will demand proofs that
what was unearthed & unearned
is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes,
when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do,
no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self

She-Woman:
adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day
when forced to concede, with a wrenched
‘child, I do not know,’
meanwhile change my diaper
after I karate chop your knee

Grandpa:
yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are
honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged
tween honorable humans
see photo for her  in position preparing to strike

3/3/19 9:45 am
Butch Decatoria Oct 2018
Hopefully not a mystery, mistaken,

Unquestionably remarkable : your presentation

Miss muse of heavy breathing monologues’

Deeper meanings, thus flesh rises hot.

If into relations

No need or want for explanation.

Greater words now simply lost;

Entrails of vaporous profundities

Respite-sleep below limbs’ entangled quivering

Some sort of worshipping screaming “god!”
Where Shelter May 26
she was skilled.
a super heroine.

WWW long before there was the internet competitor,
defender of the Weaker ***,
from when that was still an
acceptable insult,
that she crushed, when found the pronouncers,
and the foundering it was of causal, her rescued army,
oblivious to the injury she risked and
completely aware,
injury she was hoping to cause.

woman. wonder, women.
and my mother,
my shelter unquestionably,
between her legs, me standing,
little boy bravery infusing,
she was his blood, his tea, his exemplar,
his teacher

drank so deep that when he was at last man-dated,
her honoring was in the reciprocal,
when he was anointed
Wonder Man.
A Willful and Wanton Conduct is a willful or wanton injury that must have been intentional or the act must have been committed under circumstances exhibiting a reckless disregard for the safety of others, such as a failure, after knowledge of impending danger, to exercise ordinary care to prevent it or a failure to discover the danger through recklessness or carelessness when it could have been discovered by the exercise of ordinary care. [Henslee v. Provena Hosps., 369 F. Supp. 2d 970, 977-978 (N.D. Ill. 2005)]

Willful and wanton conduct means “acting consciously in disregard of or acting with a reckless indifference to the consequences, when the Defendant is aware of her conduct and is also aware, from her knowledge of existing circumstances and conditions, that her conduct would probably result in injury.” [Duncan v. Duncan (In re Duncan), 448 F.3d 725, 729 (4th Cir. Va. 2006)]
ae Jun 17
ae   Poems  
Published 0   Drafts 1

ae 1m
Seasons
The cold wind danced gracefully,
swirling through the bareness of its branches.
Death came marching in, he seems
but no, he was not.
It was the opposite.
Its chills turned into warm breeze.
It felt like a fresh start.
Leaves start growing,
everything was in bloom.
The feeling was new,
or rather, it was surreal.

The warmth was scorching.
What was once fresh grew dry,
Some still struggle,
some still try.
Perhaps fate was inevitable.
Death has finally arrived.
and alas, it is unquestionably real.
Embraced by death himself,
everything starts falling,
one by one they start clashing into each other.
Was this supposed to come to an end this way?
The cold wind danced gracefully,
swirling through the bareness of its branches.
No, it was not empty.
It was just free,
taking its time to grow.
It was not Death.
It was life.
It was the beginning.
It chills turned into warm breeze.
What was once bare flourished.
Slowly but surely,
It grew.
It learned.
It changed.

The warmth was scorching.
Despite the drought,
It has endured everything through.
It stood still.
It stood strong.
Some held on,
some have let go.

Death has finally arrived.
But no, this is not the end.
Unescapable it may seem,
It will emerge once anew.
Stronger, better,
this time for sure.
Yes, this is not the end.
However many times it falls into ruin  
There's no end.
So, shall we begin?
Bo Tansky May 21
Didn’t have time to pack a suitcase
News of your arrival
For those supposedly
Seeking  your survival
Unexpectedly came too soon
They called ‘code blue’
‘code blue’
Usurpers of free will
Moving in for the mourning ****
How dare you
How dare you.

What conformity belies the truth of your aggression?
What sadistic urges your imperious suppression?
Monsters in blue
What did I do to you?
How dare you
How dare you

Five came guns blazing
While I sat happily sun gazing
They threw you into the backseat of their cruiser
Shackled and tackled
And black and blue
Bam, bam, bam mame
Now do you understand
Monsters in blue
What did I do to you?
How dare you
How dare you

I don’t play by your rules
Because you’re fools

It was early spring
Barely a mist
Pisces you old daydreamer
They labeled you a fall risk
Isn’t it the season of renewal?
Was there something that I missed?
A sledgehammer to crack a nut
Sometimes I get really, really ******.
If it’s a broken tread
So be it.

An orange bracelet
Separates us from them.
The walking condemned
Who march to their own beat
Hey, monsters in blue
Mad as a hatter
Are you
I’m pointing the finger at you

My loathing I can hardly contain
You think me insane
My clarity is so beyond your ability to see
I don’t play by your rules
Because you’re all fools
Your conformity is a deformity in this crazy world
Excuse me if I’m barking mad
And a trifle sad
This baptism by fire
Stirred my ire
You asked no questions, no need
Never asked how I plead
You took his word, unquestionably
Would you have done the same
If he were a she?

By just what authority
Do you throw out democracy?
Ball and chain
Is the name of your game
Monsters in blue
What did I do to you..

My anger quite soothing
Someone brings me a smoothie

Didn’t want to end on a sour note
But if I ever get my hands on your throat
I might squeeze
So, I'm down on my knees
Praying for deliverance
From you
Monster in blue.
they hang as banner flags in a sinning room

peace

purification

compassion

prosperity

knowledge

all but reminders,

all but suggestions.



surely, purification is out of the question,

sitting unquestionably in a college dorm.



compassion is seldom met,  

as tests land, obtrusively on the same Friday.

a Friday.  



prosperity in which we are striving to be,

losing sleep,  

losing time.

all for it.



knowledge tries to be a friend,

tries to take time to nourish the alcohol flooded brain  



the flags continue to flutter, eyeing all those who pass,

reaching out sewn up fingers and cloth covered mouths.

maybe they should be listened to, devoted to, prayed to,



or perhaps, they should be ripped down
april 5, 2017 written
I’ve lost all hope
My eyes are blind
I am trapped
Within my mind

I fight a war
I cannot win
Myself is lone
It’s always been

My brain is dead
My breath is faint
My heart is numb
My thoughts are quaint

Why oh why
Am I this way
I cannot hear
What you say

I strain my brain
With just one thought
Why oh why
Can’t joy be bought

I could be freed
Oh yes indeed
But I hear that silence
The endless violence

Within my head
That makes me hope
It makes me wish
I just can’t cope

But I want death
But here I am
Still alive
Wondering why

Oh why oh why
Then I remember
What holds me here
And all my fears

Just disappear
For just a moment
But that moment
Gives me life

It holds my hand
And guides me through
My face goes red
My skin gets hot

My heart speeds up
You are enough
So why oh why
Can I not breathe
Can I not think
Can I not live

Why oh why
Did I silence
The endless mind
That I call mine

Why oh why
Can’t I see
What lives and grows,
Your love for me

Why oh why
Must I fight
With myself
Endlessly

You are enough
So why oh why
Does my heart
Remain aflame

Why oh why
Do my thoughts
Keep up this game
I am distraught

Why oh why
Does my mind
Refuse to be
What I know

Why am I
Betrayed by me
You’re all I have
I want to be

The one for you
So desperately
You are my world
Unquestionably

My life, My love
It did happen
I love you
And you love me

What else is there
But food and air
You took my heart
And I took yours

We are happy
At least I hope
Please let you
Be the one

You are so much
More than the past
Losing you
Would be the last.
This is something I wrote in I wanna say November of 2018 because I was in a pretty dark place and it's the first thing I'm actually going to put out there and probably the last cause idk. Writing hasn't come easy lately but we'll see where these next few months takes us. Whoever takes the care to read this keep on holding strong, you got this.
By: Cedric McClester

You don’t really believe,
What the President cannot conceive?
That the Russians meddled indeed
In our election but he paid no heed
We know that the President lied
When he said that Putin denied
Interfering or at least having tried
To show how he was on Trump’s side

And up to this very day
He refuses to believe the CIA
Or let the intelligence get in the way
Of the skullduggery, he has at play
He’s been called a Russian asset
And unquestionably he’s in Putin’s debt
Which is something we must never forget
If we do it will be to our regret

What we should realize
That a man who tells 10,000 lies
And doesni’t believe in our spies
Is someone we have  to chastise
And if that means to impeach
We shouldn’t call it overreach
It has to be done just to teach
What can happen to those who breech

Like Ripley’s Believe It Or Not
Trump’s the Wax figure we got
A man who has no forethought
About the havoc he’s wrpught
So let’s bring his reign to an end
See I can’t wait to begin
And if you feel the same way my friend
Join me in helping him descend














Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.
Renai Nov 2018
It was a bleak and dismal Sunday morning, as I baked for the sake of baking. My head was bowed as I sliced apples when suddenly, everything within me started aching. I decided to take a brief recess and rest in my reclining chair.

As I gazed out through my windowpane, I observed that rain was there. It dripped and dropped onto the dense grass, and such a beautiful sight it was. As I continued to gaze, I noticed a faint, human-like figure in the shadows of the trees. At that moment, reason had abruptly gone, and curiosity had jurisdiction.

I found myself leaving the comfort of my chair, walking into the grove. When the rain caressed my wrinkled skin, I then began to roam. I could hear vague, ghost-like murmurs surrounding me; the predicament that I was in then began confounding me.

As time progressed, my visual perception dimed, and as it dimmed, the murmurs became more prominent. I listened to the murmurs repeatedly asserting "your end is right in front of thee." I didn't understand nor had a clue. My fearfulness only grew.

And then out of the blue, I collided with what I assumed was a tree, until I heard a rather stout, raspy, sinister-natured "hello." And instantaneously I registered what the murmurs had revealed to me. My end was unquestionably in front of me.
Thank you for taking the time to read this!

— The End —