By: Cedric McClester

I heard the news
And it was numbing
Cuz so few of us
Saw it coming
The icon had
A sad homecoming
To a funeral dirge
And muffled drumming

Bowie dead at 69
Yet again reinvented
Read the headline
Now he belongs
To the annals of time
The rarest of treasures
You will find
It’s so sad that he’s crossed the line

I can’t imagine
Where to start
Was he an artist,
Or was he art?
A master of
The record chart
From Paris France
To Germany’s Stuttgart

And now the world
Must say farewell
To the clanging of
A cathedral’s bell
But he left music
To compel
Those of us
Who wished him well























Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.

I wish I could pull you
From my thoughts
And lay you down next to me

In your arms
By your side
Is the only place I long to be

Maybe I could sneak away
And playfully flirt
With your memory

I long for your embrace
And will wait for you
Indefinitely

If only we could
Escape my mind
To create a new reality

Until then
I return each night
To my dream's sanctity

And sleep in the stillness
Of your heart
Until your soul returns to me

I want you to make art out of me.
Make me turn into brush strokes and texture.
Touch me and color melt me.
Paint me and smear me.
Turn this blank canvas into explosions of color.
Let me explode and create the best pieces of art in history.
The Mona Lisa has nothing on me.
I am a one time final draft in literature.
The words perfectly aligned with my lines.
Every word you speak falls into me and I'll be your first novel.
The only best seller you'll have.
Break my bindings, break my lips, with the words you force into them.
Write me down write me slow.
I am classic literature honey.

I remember saying I hated the word sorry
But now days all I do is look for an apology

I keep telling my self to forgive and forget but wanting them to show their guilt and regret

And if they did, we could build and respect

Instead of showing the subject

This type of neglect....

Like that **** ain't hurt me?

The way I reacted in every situation showed how it burned me

You gotta test me out if you really finna learn me

It takes more than what you think you know to distinguish or discern me

These moments in life, we got less than a few

So why's it heavy on my mind? Maybe cuz it's not to you

You dont want to wait till its too late to up and dead a feud

Cuz tomorrow that person really could be up and dead to you

on lonely winter nights
i find myself in the windowsill
gazing at coruscating stars and forgotten wishes
i grin at the moon
he smiles back

i close my eyes and conjure an image of the man on the moon
does he exist beyond childhood fairytale?
an impish smirk plays on his boyish face
as he reaches for me

he is the nocturnal prince, an imperial Peter Pan
stealing the prudence of stargazers
in the very hours of creativity

he is a collector of romances
seizing the hearts of sleeping beauties
as they fabricate stories of epic proportions
soon erased in waking moments

he is the fantasy of every idealist
the one who enchants her dreams
and inspires her ingenuity

Why isn't everyone raving about singer songwriter
Harvey Andrews?
or trying to memorise the pitch perfect tranquility
Why did we ever leave 1975?
when we had more hedgerows
and projected families on slides
Blondes didnt have to be peroxide
en naturel was the prevailing currency
Words were spoken with eye contact
and dreams came true