Dear White Male Legislators,
I had no idea you all have vaginas!
It seems like you can all take them on and off
At exactly the instances in which it benefits you politically.
Perry, *******, Bright
You all seem pretty concerned with making reproductive rights for women
Fairly obsolete.

Dear White Male Legislators,
You see, we, as females, do not have the option
Of running the other way if our partner gets pregnant
Leaving her in the dust of our mistakes
Being able to pay a fee every month
Not because we care about our children
But because it will keep our deadbeat ***** from seeing the inside of a jail cell
No, we as women do not have those choices
Men do.
And our bodies are not made for your
Political platform or religious debate
No, our figures exist because we exist
And we are people, too.

Dear White Male Legislators,
Our bodies are ours
And they do not belong to a male-dominated government
That seeks to attack them and by doing so
Deems **** culture socially acceptable
Without uttering a word about it.

Dear White Male Legislators,
Have you experienced the shame or stigma
That comes along with even just visiting an abortion clinic's website?
Clearly, if you are ***** and your abuser is not kind enough to use a ******
Not having your body shut down as you say and I quote happens during
"Legitimate ****"
Putting yourself and your unborn descendent at risk if you deliver
Having *** and being unable to deal with the unintended consequences
Makes you a *****, a ****, or a *****
While the man who put you in this position
Cannot control his urges to knock up the first woman he finds even moderately attractive.

Dear White Male Legislators,
You must be pretty important
If you can play God and judge all of these helpless women
Call what they are doing a sin
And **** them to Hell both
In death and in life.

Dear White Male Legislators,
I hope you never get any woman pregnant
Who hopes to be even slightly independent
Or make any decisions on her own
Especially if they involve the rights to her body.
With you,
She will be a byproduct of sexism
And so will your offspring.

Dear certain White Male Legislators,
In closing,
If you truly care about the good of our country and its people
Never procreate.

The young poet Evmenis
complained one day to Theocritus:
"I've been writing for two years now
and I've composed only one idyll.
It's my single completed work.
I see, sadly, that the ladder
of Poetry is tall, extremely tall;
and from this first step I'm standing on now
I'll never climb any higher."
Theocritus retorted: "Words like that
are improper, blasphemous.
Just to be on the first step
should make you happy and proud.
To have reached this point is no small achievement:
what you've done already is a wonderful thing.
Even this first step
is a long way above the ordinary world.
To stand on this step
you must be in your own right
a member of the city of ideas.
And it's a hard, unusual thing
to be enrolled as a citizen of that city.
Its councils are full of Legislators
no charlatan can fool.
To have reached this point is no small achievement:
what you've done already is a wonderful thing."

Faulkner's comment, I imagine him
tossing it off like Yogi Berra between games
of a doubleheader. The hero, the expert, the virtuoso
has no real control, is going to feel
unmitigated, unsparing forces, a mighty sun
swallowed by a black hole, coughed up into a big sky.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

Versus Wayne Gretsky's formulation.
When I think of my death, I think of returning
the chemicals and microorganisms I borrowed.
If my plane goes down, when we hit the ground
fruits with names will be waiting - squawbush if
in the desert uplands, rose hips on a Vermont farm.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.

I realize I have a religion, a science fiction
the size of Jupiter which is, as these things go, small:
Chardin's theory unifying physical matter, rocks
and all sentient beings into one - here's the catch -
conscious organism. Having said that, why not claim
the same for the entire universe? Rock + DNA = soil.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

These trees cannot feed me.
Self-sufficiency is relevant only in context of community,
      economy.
Every drug, every vitamin is wrung from plants,
tools and shelter are ore.
A tincture, infusion, decoction, a ******, a compress,
      poultice, a salve, a syrup.
A war president needs war.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.

5 a.m., first of Spring.
Robins still in flocks, not paired off. But crows
mating on the sky - two couples dating
a sign of luck, that Celtic god passing Peter talked about.
8,000 generations, I reach only to my grandparents
but history and the naming of things extend our vision.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

I was handcuffed but not beaten. Humiliated but not insulted.
And when I came before the judge, he was uninterested
in vengeance or restitution. He had his own death before him,
probably. I keep wanting to go back
to before the big bang, reading books about the cosmos,
FLO, LUCA, the texture of reality, consciousness,
      God-seeking.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.

For the next 5-10 years my goals are: geographically
compact and contiguous Congressional districts, term limits
for Federal legislators and judges, election of the president
by direct popular vote, public financing, spending limits and
      free
air time for candidates, abolish UN vetoes, consent of the
      governed
before governments can sit in global councils.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

No greater tragedy than the death of your children.
Yet you live on, eyes drained of color. Old,
you make plans. To know the names of every flower
in the temperate zone. Every bird by its song.
Just as you're about to reach your goal, a tipping point
comes along: a nuclear detonation or it gets too cold.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.

Legislators of social stigmatization
hand out identity before child birth,
reluctantly judged by your pigmentation,
you're given a name
and a pew in a church,
assigned to a gender with implications,
while ATM balance determines your worth

Bugs will certainly inherit the Earth

Disguised as your neighborhood
privacy invaders,
cops kick in the door
at your mother's front porch,
enforcing law written by legislators
for a routine seizure and search

Police brutality couldn't mask the depravity
of their warrants nomenclature
Capitalist crusaders terrorize Americans,
but can't keep the bugs
from their Earth inheritance

Men will shroud their evil nature
Malicious intent hides below the glacier
Camouflaged vindictive behavior
is electing dictators across the equator

Truth serenaders lobby for
congressional persuaders
to pardon these murderous
capitalist crusaders,
fitting agendas with tailor made suits,
who infect Mother Earth deep in her roots

Antibiotics couldn't heal or stop this
infection these players gave her
Pray for fire and fury
to burn away worry
when bugs surely crawl from the dirt
to inherit what's left of our Mother Earth

The Race Card: Whether it be in suggesting that anyone who doesn’t vote for him because he is black is probably a republican, or in blaming Bush administration racism on a slow response to Hurricane Katrina, Obama is quite comfortable playing the race card.

2. Anti-Indian: After the Obama campaign released a paper disparaging other candidates for their ties to the Indian-American community, the chairman of the bipartisan US India Political Action Committee, Sanjay Puri, stated that the Obama Campaign was “engaging in the worst kind of anti-Indian American stereotyping.” Of course, Obama denied any hand in the racist document put out by his campaign.

3. Corrupt Buddies: Tony Rezko, a long time friend and fund-raiser for Obama, was indicted last fall on federal charges that accuse him of demanding kickbacks from companies seeking state business. When asked about his friend, Obama said, “I’ve never done any favors for him.” This turned out to be a lie, as evidence turned up proving that Obama had written letters to city and state officials praising Rezko’s business practices.

4. Wal-Mart Ties: While bashing of Wal-Mart’s labor practices in public, Obama has been profiting from their business through the money his wife made as a member of the board of directors for a company that produces food for the mega-corporation.

5. Religious Ties: Is Obama a Muslim? Is he a Christian? Nobody is 100% sure, but it is true that Obama was raised in a Muslim family and at one time attended an Islamic school. He currently claims to be a convert to Christianity, but some are concerned about his Muslim upbringing.

6. Anti-Second Amendment: Obama is one of the most anti-Second Amendment legislators in the country. He supports a ban the sale or transfer of all forms of semi-automatic weapons.

7. Gas-guzzler: Obama might attack American automakers for not making enough environmental friendly automobiles, but when he goes home he drives a gas-guzzling V-8 hemi-powered Chrysler 300.

8. Obama Ringtones: The most annoying campaign tool ever.

9. Obama Girl: I take back what I said about the ringtones. This girl is far more annoying.

10. His Unelectable Name: Barack Hussein Obama, ’nuff said.

LONELY TELEPHONE

September 20, 1989 – London

City teenagers hurling about within their lives
Absurd places to live in, I feel
Consequences never being understood
And so, mindless action and devastating hurt ensues again
And times are uncaring
Didn’t you know?
Walls bare, barren and sweating frightening you
But why?
Pay shall be low!
So it was decreed
By legislators light years
Away from us
So bleed on;
Your brain is unaware
Friends fade soon
Opportunities sinister and momentary wanted you
Lonely telephone
That you gaze at
In your gloomy, wet room
Irrelevant information piles up within
Recognizable faces mean little to you
Glamorous personalities all conform
Times are repetitive and cliché-like
Humans!
Growing older so soon?
Days monotone continue passing by
And so your life styles remain intact.

----

Parliament's headquarters--Back alley for smokes n' such.
Politicians deliberating on the bread and the butter
While the starving go hungry and the Truth begins to suffer.
Never point to the signs on the wall
12 steps, Denial before the fall.

Consumerist, zombie shuffle back to the car, the market's full up.
Look for the polyethylene creamer. Metallic coated groceries
For the plastic (PORTIS issued) consumer.
"Coke is it" they would say as they take the morning grind (black/two sugar.)

Racists make the sea of Policy makers and warmongers,
Bathing in other's poverty, hunger and pain;
Fearing death before the climb, G-d before the fall
Slashing at the necks of basilisks until they turn to stone.  
Blind and petrified to the core,
I swear God, Parliament will smoke no more.

Comes along the Harbinger, you've got one new message.
Message one, There is no god, only me. I'm your Hypocrisy.
Cry to an empty thought, kid the kidders, sin among sinners.
Shamble back to Parliament's sanctuary, the legislators are in,
Let Smokes n' Such begin.

You have your demagogic president-elect,
Dreaming in shades of Mussolini
And will sit in his downtown skyscraper and laugh that all the populists
Were not in on the joke,
And thus could not be in on the punchline.

The progressives hotboxed the shower the night we handed the country to Trump.
Pennsylvania, the center of the cataclysm.

The vortex has opened and engulfed all the steel,
All of the illegal immigrants have been scooped up and swallowed,
Reproductive rights will be voided in a stacked Supreme Court validating the opinions of white male legislators.

Tensions twisting to contort and ignore the onset realization
That all progress is halted to return the country to the era of segregation,

Deportation Gestapo formed with the lone intent to displace the children of those who dared to dream of a brighter life.

America, look what you've done and face yourself with your objections.
Look dead in your eyes and see all the minorities, tears in the diaries of closeted teenagers,
And the judicial dread of the gentleman who only wants to live comfortably with his husband.

You've made stepping stones of the counterculture, all crying in dorm rooms or next to their gardens,
All together in sorrow.

Underground America has been sold out,
We're a social experiment for what can happen when sulfuric acid is poured upon the voiceless.
The silent majority has shut us up.
We've been yelling to change history and now are tracking back.

Bigotry is back in style and I'm terrified.

By: Cedric McClester

Just another day
Of gun violence and fear
In the United States
So by now it should be clear
That our legislators
Must not even care
They haven’t taken action
Since they’ve been in there

Just another day
Of gun violence and fear
Permeating acrid smoke
In the atmosphere
Bodies lying motionless
After the smoke clears
And it’s happening so frequently
We’ve run out of tears

Just another day
Of gun violence and fear
But we’re not talking Middle East
It’s happening right here
Every week we seem to have
Another cross to bare
But the NRA will usually say
That we shouldn’t despair

Just another day
Of gun violence and fear
The question is how do we
Make it disappear
Before we meet our Armageddon
In a clearing near
If you have a good answer
Would you care to share?




















Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.

A distrust of details…
Ample amounts of reporting,
And eroding authority;
More freeze-thaw cycles,
Upswells, dead zones. Early signs
Wash up onto the shore, as the
Earth’s core continues to warm.
Hurricanes play mercilessly with
Uninsured lives, and earthquakes
Evolve from tickles to fissures.
Snow disappears from
Whole mountainsides.
The floodgates HAVE opened, temperatures ARE
Rising; Perception is always partial
but there’s plenty of evidence, regardless -

When we start to question the record-keepers
And legislators, those omitting parts of history;
People who willingly walk into the sun, selfishly
Sidestep the natural order and equilibrium of all things,
Exactly where does that journey end?

I think, somewhere around the place
Where we start to forge our own histories,
Or indifference begins.

I spoke with two people at the party Saturday.
A young police officer, short-haired, fit,
chiseled face who had two young children.
He felt constrained by the law, without discretion
to question mopes (perps) aggressively
or to let go those who were obviously no threat.
Even at a family function he seemed straight-backed, correct,
devoted to his role as our protector (and his children’s)
yet I thought perhaps too deeply in debt, indentured
to the rules and laws of legislators and destined
to be disappointed (or worse). I thought his courage
and devotion (to whom or what?) would surely
be poorly repaid and that this lesson
was necessary to ready him with wisdom
for death or further living. I worried like a brother
about the unpredictable dangers, even terrors,
he must daily face, and the pleasure he takes in facing them.
How will he return to the fragility of family,
of the soul alone, after wielding the force
of the state, the blind, combined will of us all?

Next a business exec, retired from a well known
global investment firm. At first we talked about
the lush beauty of the northeast compared to the arid west
(although he loves every inch of the west, too).
Then somehow we got beyond light conversation
when he complained about the perceived decline in values
for instance how the Ten Commandments can’t be publicly
displayed. He said we can all agree on God
but I said I have a mechanistic view of the universe
(although the unknowable always sits just out of reach
of the known). I told him my dad’s theory of reincarnation,
a good man and a corporate seeker of God also, whose shoes
I could never fill unless I swore belief in a supreme being.
No hard feelings. Then he told me the story
of his dying friend, an atheist, not even a deist
like the founding fathers, who opened his eyes for the last time
to correct the exec’s misperception that now he’d meet his maker.
Having exceeded the bounds of acceptable conversation
I went looking for my children. Nothing more to question.

I dont know if it was because of the book you were reading
Or if it was because the curvature of your sloped spine
insinuated you were tired
Or maybe it was because you just looked lonely
But, you looked like you could write poetry
it could’ve been the pen marks on your fingers
Or the tan lines across your neck
But eyes like that don’t just sit down

Eyes like that start fires in my cheeks
And picket signs in my chest
And ******* legislators
But more importantly they make me want to write

I don’t know if it was the way your jaw clenched you
Or the way your tongue bit your teeth
But you looked like you could recite poetry

And even worse, I wanted to listen

I wanted to be your commitee, outreach, moral support
I wanted to be your pen, paper, microphone, clothes on your back
I wanted to be anything that touched your skin, touching me

You’re least favorite feeling is when your holding back tears and your face is about to explode
There’s reasons why the clouds look so heavy before falling
God can hold so much in

You said you don’t believe in luck, but you’re a firm believer in hope
That three leaf clovers weren’t done growing when they were plucked
That when a lady bug didn’t land on your hand,
A premature baby somewhere is using his grasp his mother’s finger
For the first time

I want to hear the poetry that you’ll write about the
spaces between your fingers
It will be the closest i’ll ever get to holding them

you were born an angry baby.
with tears in your eyes
But i use to poetry to say they weren’t angry.

just eyes dancing.

I dreamed the day finally arrived
When ALL people realized
And understood why Donald Trump
Deserved to be so despised.

People everywhere saw through
His empty words, his lies, his act,
His bigoted, odious promises,
His thought process so inexact.

No one acknowledged his asinine tweets
Or listened to his divisive rants.
No one went to his vacuous rallies
And started shouting racist chants.

No one let him- or herself
Be duped by the man's endless stream
Of worthless gibberish and hateful talk
That once made non-supporters scream.

Our country had respect again
From countries worthy of respect.
Foreign relations were also mended
After having suffered neglect.

No longer did we admire
Autocrats and dictators.
We looked up to our allies and praised
Diplomatic negotiators.

The voices of white supremacy
Were drowned by voices of love and inclusion.
Voting rights would be protected.
That became a foregone conclusion.

Russia and other countries couldn't
Interfere with our elections.
All people living in
The U.S. had equal protections.

Religious freedom meant that people
Could practice beliefs across the nation
And NOT use religion as
A handy excuse for discrimination.

Clean air and clean water
Became a focus, AND what's more,
Climate change wasn't considered
A silly hoax that we should ignore.

Children were not separated
From parents at our border gate.
People weren't dehumanized
And made to feel second rate.

The taxation system was fair
And benefited not only the wealthy.
Everyone had health insurance
With emphasis on being healthy.

To presidential abuse of power
Legislators said farewell.
And egomaniacal Donald Trump
Languished in a prison cell.

What a dream--what a vision--
Where joyous hopes began anew!
If only it could come to fruition!
It would be a dream come true.

-by Bob B (7-19-19)

What are we doing right now to save our teenage girls and boys
Out on city streets selling their bodies and being treated like
Throwaway toys. We need to raise protesting voices to our legislators
And really make some voting noise in an effort to save
The unprotected children every girl and boy. This is a daily problem in
Our country. We see with open eyes our children hurting and dying
And far to wise. We owe it to all of our children in Philadelphia
And around the world a clean and loving childhood every boy and girl
Human life people, should not be viewed as cheap
Far to many are dying away from home on the mean and ***** streets
And before you lay a tired head down  to sleep tonight
In your warm and clean bed, what about the children?

poltroonish authoritarian skunks ruling
for decades & helped out by hellhound-like
guards authorized carrying guns, fE̲w friends
[law enforcers, personal security service agents & army]
from young adulthood turned partners in unruly
enrichment, pesky agents of cyber—
—space censorship, an unjust jU̲di—
[the "partners in crime" phrase]
—ciary, submissive legislators for power
abuse, plus bullsh#t-
and hatred-spreading information supp—liers (wassup, y'all schmucks)
["liars"]
a whole palace of corrupt tU̲[ʊ]shlicks
[the main thing ones mentioned have in common]
deserving to end up chastened by fire (chastened by fire)
which is one of the proposals I wO̲U̲ld give
["witches", which connects with "end up chastened by fire"]
as a reply on "how shO̲U̲ld ******
that hold power & are sick with
cold-bloodedness be treated?"
of course, the world has some gO̲O̲d things
to o[ɑ]ffer, but human—
—kind; for the most part, it's o[ɑ]ff-putting
like an option regarding wha[ʌ]t should be
done with that ******[ɑ]tic **** ruling
in the underdis—banded mafia lA̲nd east
of Europe (nullify the ****** mo[ɑ]bster)
["off [the surname of the dictator of the area mentioned]"; "bandit"]
it's a world of wro[ɑ]ngdoing
which is why it requires ones whO̲'d be
like mechanics, getting the ***** jo[ɑ]b done
getting Earth purified fro[ʌ]m
walking pieces o[ʌ]f dung
such as key figures o[ʌ]f ***
autocratic regimes & mo[ɑ]b ****
————————————————————————————————
you know what's a[ɑ]musing? I've be—gun putting (down)
together this one listening to some dumb music
party-fine tunes with
wicked E̲DM sounds, whI̲ch can be found in different styles
["different" is supposed to be read/pronounced the 3-syllable way]
amongst which is twerk
like a dance by a magic-practicing gal wI̲th her stern
bouncing; not a life teacher learned
["witch's twerk"]
heaps 'bout it, but here's something wise: since this world
["hips", which connects with the twerk subject in the preceding lines]
is sick, like the NO-WAVE-made
tune "Direct Action", or like that spite-ridden verse
of "POAA"
[the producer's name is spelled as "N O W A V E"]
[the phrase "this world is sick" is the most repeated part of the tune's lyrics]
[the rhyme piece "punishment of an autocrat" written by me]
sometimes it is worth
distracting our mind by things preferred
by us, esp. when our spirit's hurt
like hell; wish I sometimes could, like one free of coarse
language, no[ɑ]t give a curse
[the "to give a tinker's curse" expression]
about what's go[ɑ]t mE̲ disturbed
not sure if this is fine for uplifting words
like a penalty charge issued for
giving an encouraging speech, but I̲f you're short
on high spirits, or feel destroyed
or even feel so hor—rible that this flipping world
you want to see it burn
just like the mentally *******, yet supply—
—ing-food-for-thou[ɑ]ght guy
introduced in "Dark Knight", try doing wha[ʌ]t I
think can be of some help during hard times
[the Joker from the film mentioned & the Alfred's quote about him]
[which goes: "some men just want to watch the world burn"]
[both, the world & the Joker referenced in the latest lines]
[are sick (crazy), hence the choice of "flipping" (going crazy) toward "world"]
whatever unwicked, whether it's artistic, sport
or recreational, you like, or are eager for
(there has to be something)
just ge[ɪ]t immersed
into it, like someone who dives, leaving worth—
—less weighty stuff like doubts, fears ashore
get immersed & get enjoyment
out of the respective moment
————————————————————————————————
wish I had
a mind arranged like that

We’re your friendly Republican
Legislators! Yay!
Whether state or federal,
We are here to stay.
We will change the laws to make
Sure that we maintain
All the power that we want;
We won’t let it wane.

We will use all strategies
To get what we desire--
Even if we have to lie,
Hoodwink or conspire.
If we make it hard to vote,
That will help us win,
As we watch opponents fall
Into a tailspin.

If opponents get perchance
More votes, we won’t grieve,
For we have something really quite
Sneaky up our sleeve.
It will be an obstacle
Easy to surmount:
We’ll find devious ways to make
Opponents' votes not count.

If you look into our eyes
And see we have no soul,
That’s okay ‘cause all we want
Are power and control.
If sacrificing democratic
Values in order to keep
Our power and authority,
We don't give a (bleep).

-by Bob B (3-26-21)

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                       Poets Seldom Order Missile Attacks

         “Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world”

                     –Shelley, “A Defense of Poetry,” 1821

In truth

Poets are the acknowledged legislators
          of nothing
                    Let us thank God that it is so

Poets can be tiresome in their own ways
Among other shortcomings scribbling free verse
Without any consideration for meter
And failing to understand the rhythm of iambs

Poets can be tiresome in their own ways
Hogging for grants and television time
Some writing more for politics than for truth
Obsessing on the I instead of All

Poets can be tiresome in their own ways
But they seldom order missile attacks

Poets are the acknowledged legislators
          of nothing
                    Let us thank God that it is so

By: Cedric McClester

The profit motive inspires our lust
Money is the god in which we trust
And justice hasn’t ever been for us
Seems like all the breaks
Go to the upper crust
Those on Wall Street love to speculate
On the backs of the middle class
Who must carry the freight

Prisons now are being run for profit
State legislatures casually adopt it
Increasingly more states are tryin’ to cop it
Is there anyone, anywhere to stop it

Neo-slavery has become big business
Avarice and greed caused them to rig this
And none among us can afford to ig’ this
Is it necessary for me to go down the pig list
As legislators continue to shoot the breeze
Like an orange Puerto Rico has been squeezed
And Islanders are forced to beg the US please
They’d just like a chance to get up off their knees

Prisons now are being run for profit
State legislatures casually adopt it
Increasingly more states are tryin’ to cop it
Is there anyone, anywhere to stop it

Some clearly might question
Has the deck been stacked
Against a certain class of people
Who have been attacked
And if they had the resources
They seem to lack
They might be better equipped
To fight back

There are certain facts here
I’ve tried to expose
That have been camouflaged
For how long God only knows
It’s high time they’re revealed
I would suppose
And that’s the role here
That I must have chose

Prisons now are being run for profit
State legislatures casually adopt it
Increasingly more states are tryin’ to cop it
Is there anyone, anywhere to stop it

The profit motive inspires our lust
Money is the god in which we trust
And justice hasn’t ever been for us
Seems like all the breaks
Go to the upper crust
Those on Wall Street love to speculate
On the backs of the middle class
Who must carry the freight

Cedric McClester Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.