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"wacked" poems
And when I met that girl in San Francisco Off a dusty little pier with rotting wood and squawking seals And screaming bayside wind She caught me off-tropics and danced with the grace of a palm tree lines between the quaked concrete off telegraph avenue On an obscuring Sunday morning and no she didn't go to church or any silly thing like a temple or synagogue She said those were no places for god God was the trees We smoked cigarettes and got off to each other's carcinogenic practices oxidizing a little faster in conjunction with hopeful Formaldehyde Deriding the formalities of small talk and trivialities She liked her guitars with nickel-wound strings I with nylon But I couldn't play songs that sounded any good with them while she could and did. and girl did it ever sound good She'd laugh at the contests on the radio while we drove on a half-moon to half-moon full and whole of ourselves We'd stopped in the lobby of a cheap motel And waltzed to background muzak wacked out of our minds Sniffing in deep huffs of subliminal divinity Understanding loving that mind-numbing monotony muzak... ppsh. Who ever really listened to that? And then she left at the end of one fine winter day in a cloudless sky I waved watched her plane skip off towards the edge of a pale blue horizon back south to warmer climes to wherever she truly stayed The tugging on my heartstrings chimed grotesque in precise D minor.
0
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
Steel Guitar
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve Santa had to cut him off the lead pack Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve I know a lot of eve's and some get naked But, I got drunk somehow after shopping and banking Now I don't need no how on keep waking up wasted I shot him in his brain and sliced his neck I wacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve Santa had to cut him off the lead pack Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve Now it's Christmas Day, I have him here He's hung in my backyard. Oh, what a deer! Today's a holiday. We'll serve what's near. And Rudolph's venison will bring on cheer I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve Santa had to cut him off the lead pack Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve I'm slicing jerkey I'm slicing meat I'm cutting steaks I'm slicing lean I cut his brains out Threw them away His guts and his ***** Have been turned into hay I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve Santa had to cut him off the lead pack Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
0
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Rudolph's Venison
There's no room for a butterfly in this half-wacked world he's created. He even ***** the color out Of rainbows after rain, destroying Both foliage and flower; Now nothing sacred has a place to land. He just wants to keep this butterfly pinned on display, to study it, deny it freedom. But when it escapes, (and it will) it will find beauty again far away from his captive world.
0
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 6:32 PM UTC
Captive
What is happening to me I thought as I lay on the marble floor.I had no idea of where I was or how I got there !It must be a dream I quietly soliloquized. My head felt like a thousand talking drums had been set in motion.The beats were in such dis-harmony that my head began to twirl in response. I tried to get up to take some aspirin ,only to find out I couldn't move.I was tied to a chair.Just then did reality hit me -i had been kÍdnapped ...but who was my captor? A question that sent my mind on a reverse mission.Fortunately, I recalled the episode and realised my drink had been spiked with whatever it was and I was taken away from where I seemed to have been having fun 'alone'. Something had told me not to go back to my drink after the phone call but I neglected that voice. My captors were definitely lurking around waitin for me to awake.I had to put up a fight with them no matter what. Thank God I had acquired some 'taikwando' skills way back.I hope it comes in handy this time! Wait a minute! I'm dead drunk again,and I'm lying on my marble porch right next to my rocking chair.So no captors! but just my drunken imagination!!! 'I'll pass the night here' I said to my wacked-up mind. I'll be sober in the morning and maybe just maybe I'll say 'asta lavista' to the drinks.
0
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
SPIKED CRANBERRY
The tranquil light In the quiet night Allows me to escape To take a break The silhouette of the waning moon Bring a sense of peace To this wacked out world Through the eyes of a child to old for her age A broken girl Who stays unspoken The silent girl She has her dreams She looks guidance Her world is timeless The night whispers to her The illusion of dealing with all her emotions Leads to commotion Her desperate devotion To a night who never loved her back.
0
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
3am
Like my finicky constrictor with one third of his body Erected up like the Eiffel Tower he looks to the top Waiting for the next meal to be delivered to satisfy When the pain becomes too much to bare On the move he goes searching for the next treat Around in circles is all he can do confined in a glass music box When normally even in nature they just lay and wait I too am like that serpent that suffocates and then consumes Waiting for that early morning call to start my day off Too start it on the perfect note don’t matter what side of the bed Finding myself at the pumps to go the extra mile I see out in the distance I know of a place, heart is banging ever so hard here I come now As if a pitcher on his dirt mound flexing before his throw First pitch makes it a fast ball then I run to the plate to try and hit it Strike one! Too fast, bases are loaded ninth inning uneven score series at stake Second pitch makes it a slow ball and uses precision, articulate the words this time Ran again and missed now Nero’s stadium of the dead is chanting, “Send Us Home!” You can do it; I’m doing it for the home team that is all that is on your mind Like my bag of tricks I pull out another, I’ll show them who spits out diamonds when he talks Last and final pitch I send out a curve ball ran ever so fast and grabbed my club Looked to the heavens and wacked a GRAND SLAM sending the dead to home, we won! I know someday later I must follow, till then I’ll take my time rounding the bases Smelling all the flowers and listening to the melody of birds along the way For I look at people different now and I take time to look at all of them in their eyes. (CARSr. 5-16-12)
0
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 12:22 PM UTC
Obsessive Compulsion
Like my finicky constrictor with one third of his body Erected up like the Eiffel Tower he looks to the top Waiting for the next meal to be delivered to satisfy When the pain becomes too much to bare On the move he goes searching for the next treat Around in circles is all he can do confined in a glass music box When normally even in nature they just lay and wait I too am like that serpent that suffocates and then consumes Waiting for that early morning call to start my day off Too start it on the perfect note don’t matter what side of the bed Finding myself at the pumps to go the extra mile I see out in the distance I know of a place, heart is banging ever so hard here I come now As if a pitcher on his dirt mound flexing before his throw First pitch makes it a fast ball then I run to the plate to try and hit it Strike one! Too fast, bases are loaded ninth inning uneven score series at stake Second pitch makes it a slow ball and uses precision, articulate the words this time Ran again and missed now Nero’s stadium of the dead is chanting, “Send Us Home!” You can do it; I’m doing it for the home team that is all that is on your mind Like my bag of tricks I pull out another, I’ll show them who spits out diamonds when he talks Last and final pitch I send out a curve ball ran ever so fast and grabbed my club Looked to the heavens and wacked a GRAND SLAM sending the dead to home, we won! I know someday later I must follow, till then I’ll take my time rounding the bases Smelling all the flowers and listening to the melody of birds along the way For I look at people different now and I take time to look at all of them in their eyes. (CARSr. 5-16-12)
Continue reading...
25
I'm waiting for the messages to be sent back, rejected. My hair unkept, heart wrecked. Smothered in the spilt coffee, because the nerves are bad again. Eating something so gross, you have to throw everything back up. I can't watch tv, or start a new series of books, I tell my brain im not ready for that commitment. So I'll sit, as cars pass by. I met an old lady, who saw the Grand Canyon seven times. My mom screamed," I'm losing my mind" I shut the door & walked away. There's no adventure, left inside. Just a catacomb of lost secerets, I'll die & die each day. But smile with a unearthly sernity. I like listening to people's wacked out theories about the universe. It's like doing **** on acid, while drinking ***** on the highway. Going 78. Even though you're only 19. This is a one way street, and baby im speeding.
0
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
Determine try
Wishy washy wondering why whine this is me all the time welcome to my world my chaos my prison wanting waiting for pure joy hold me tight don't let me go let me feel your warmth watching working whispers all night you by my side I want you as my guy walls weak wishing years of fear have made things so unclear writing wrongs wiping tears willing wild without these emotions are out of control wacked wisdom waving goodbye WOMAN WITHOUT WORDS this is absurd
0
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
WORDS
Wicked, wacked, Watch as we about-face this perfect paring because about now the timer ive set will be going off and, GOD knows, we CANT brown the silly crust this time. ***** Fake ghosts and roaming shores, pack them and go $i die$ somewhere with more tranquil winds, quiet skies. Earth, with you i have coalesced- alas, fae tongues have yet to forget to grab ankles and pull. I apologize for the imprints of my claws.
0
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
Your second poem
Young Easy Older Tough Old Easy You learn from your mistakes. Life knowledge increases as you grow. But then what? You know all these facts at the age of death. In this society no youngin' wants to listen to me. They rather watch cartoons, That make no sense to thee. Okay, So the cat got wacked in the head, But wears the message? It makes me want to cry in bed. Why create such a thing with no meaning? Life has meaning, But slowly drifting away. You ask yourself, Why should I live another day?
0
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Life
I can't figure out if I'm supposed to be an oddball Eros-laced poetic artist of sorts this revolutionary evolution redesigner with wake-the-fuck-up typographic punches or a sower of seedlings via silly rhymes scheming with wacked-out visualizations for story-time imaginations to mold future generations ideally, I want to do all three... praying for the mind time and energy to manifest all I can Be (including rocking the **** outta this day job that's molding me into a better model who knows how to float merrily upon her dreams obsoleting false me) happythankUmoreplease
0
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
#lifegoals
Hold up hold up I see the world corrupt Since I took a sip of the potion I gotta swole up Mobs like Luciano Sound the instrumental Watch the vocals turn detrimental Servin' peens Lyrically dumpin' Out my magazine You who I be Straight wizardy Fools thought i was soft But I was taught Combat so now I sinbad Chased afta things I never had I scarfaces like Brad feel the brass If you wanna be put on Your *** The world is mine..... The world is mine suckas Rack up My crew be thick don't slack up The world is mine Dollaz stack up So check yoself Before ya wacked up Yosef the don The only one Puttin' suckas through pun And stun Any poems I'm so deep you'll love em They wanna keep me Bound but I'm above em Drowning competitions So I shove em Out the scene Puffin nature's green Still wear guess baggy jeans I'm old school ghetto as Rallo Many claim leadership But they just follow Others after creeds I been a soldier So I know when ******** feeds Greeds Made from a ***** deeds Romance without finance Is a slim chance Its stuck in a fire with the devils dance Fools out with open hands Reeady take a reprimand But I stand strong even grippin' The slim Knockin out flakes the world is mine The world is mine..... The world is mine suckas Rack up My crew be thick don't slack up The world is mine Dollaz stack up So check yoself Before ya wacked up
0
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 11:51 AM UTC
World is Mine
I walk the road I chose to follow. Playing ***** screamed your shot is wacked? How to escape the truth you don't want to show your real self. Like a shadow your self image lies like spray painting a broken angery mind that won't admit weight from wrong. Insanity or guilty of all your mistakes you ran instead of writing the new storie you justchews to cras an burn. No creative ways to redeam your self. The house if truth will make the light as bright if you speak the truth or just keep lying. Being fake may just smash all your teeth out being fake fit you is ditch Now it's your grave. Being true speaking your mind making the road turn to pathes to all crazy opportunist . Be true your own willl write society's next move. A posey is just a flower but A rose is the truth about your life. A rose is a reward for guiding the broken weak lost to the next game.
0
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
A broken mind powerless
By: Cedric McClester Is it playing the race card If the deck is stacked And everything you state Is an established fact Michelle opened up And almost got wacked So we weren’t surprised When she was attacked Is it playing the race card When you acknowledge Certain social realities Rarely taught in college Or should all banalities Suddenly be abolished Because someone’s ego Needs to be polished Is it playing the race card If you’re in a rut And the cards you were dealt Are all that you’ve got Don’t preface your answer With the usual but Causing me to say Tut tut tut Is it playing the race card Though politically incorrect When it’s the only thing you have What would you expect It doesn’t require A tremendous intellect If you take pause To stop and reflect Cedric McClester © Copyright 2015.  All rights reserved.
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
PLAYING THE RACE CARD
So tired even the wrinkles are yawning same in the morning what good is sleep? I should have kept all those hours I've slept and saved them, I could use them now, bags under my eyes? guess so and that's how I know I am so tired but you treat me keen and I'll stay mustard mean, I am hot and have you seen these bags? haha I must be warped, if I talked like this who in their right mind would want to kiss me goodnight.
0
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
wacked