"opioids" poems
complexity bias
how you love to criticize my poems
as too long and overly complex
poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting
unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the
intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews
Writing is a **** temptation -
we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90%
perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones
put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking
word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring -
give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is
easily digested and there are no consequences
I am a member of a discriminated-against minority
we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say
hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of
our faces, you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied
25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white,
my occupation is playing video games and making sure
my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States
where I was born
there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives
a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts
any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in
my future
this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy,
ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about,
on your way out, of course, of course,
we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden
my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way,
order slowly declines into disorder
my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the
the Herzog continuums
and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my
going, gone under
so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the
requisite taxing authority
you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions
resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length
compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go,
perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:56 PM UTC
are you generally happy?
a semi-innocuous query
now actualized as a two sided bladed poker,
hot stabbing me smack dab in
the chests hollow crown bullseye,
continuously, as in all life long, and eternal longing for a
“yes”
it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that
refreshes with every breath;
a life long struggle for an accurate definition,
be a general of genuine happy,
that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction
as a human, one operates on parallel continuums;
slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years,
their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles
formed by
twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves,
marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost,
complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words
“The End”
a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong
with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours,
reality is
shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by
spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for
a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable
and a piece of a peace that comes and goes
like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read
the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand
you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing -
the opioids of the mind offers are rejected
the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall -
the place where the poems come from,
and go to die,
a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized
but never been and never left,
the crazy contradictions come in two flavors;
vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have
etched pathways cheek-chiseled
the city is a struggling strife for most,
the next red line on the side
of the measuring cup and
everyone has a cell, a credit card,
and a measuring cup
<•>
here I stop can’t finish
someone missing alerts me
to their real worlds troubles
making my complaints super superficial but
the silent running of the stilleto
cuts shallow
repeated hourly
the cut color,
pitch black
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
I am tired.
Tired of the greed, the materialism,
the artificial realism.
Medicines to cope, false hope..opioids
the killer dope.
I am bored.
Bored with the faithless optimistics, party goers bathing in that sea of chaos...politics.
I am tired.
Tired of the hunger, and the homelessness that at times feeds glory seeking kindness.
I am bored.
Bored with the phones...the internet.
Allowing people to interact without having to connect.
I am tired.
Tired of the why and the what for,
lies of peace masking the truth of war.
I am so very tired and bored but
mostly with me.
More so with myself than with other people, politics and technology.
Sometimes I wish life would just set me free.
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC
Addicted to this strain of pen
The pain and rain embraces melt
Away in her oblivion
Still numb to opioids she felt
My love at last is laid to rest
In unrequited sleepless nights
And answers of indifference
To questions of my greatest heights
Free-falling fears I left behind
To see depression's comatose
Was riddled with my lucid mind
Still hers was what I craved the most
A stronger drug I've yet to find*
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
***first it was all about pain
now I actually take you to gain
the sensation that makes me high
boy I'll tell you, with you I swear I can fly
you make me feel like I'm eight feet tall
but honey let me tell you the worst part is the fall
but is it worth it they say
every time I take you I don't know if I'll see another day
so no it's not worth it
but I can't help it
I'm an addict
so don't make the same mistake as me
don't take opioids and good your health will be***
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2017
Am I dating myself
With these words out my mouth?
See, I remember a time
When we flashed the peace sign
And called one another
Sister and brother
Seems we’ve gone sour
On acquiring black power
And black on black crime
Is the new paradigm
When we look in the mirror
It becomes much more clearer
That we hate what we see
Although that shouldn’t be
Remember freedom marches
Before the golden arches
Then ****** entered in
And we start popin’ our skin
Before we shot it straight into our veins
Which probably explains
Why we regressed
Long before the present opioid mess
It was ****** first,
But then it got worst
So let me take you back
To the era of crack
When a nickel or dime
Could trigger a crime
And what really hurt you
Is the women who lost their virtue
But I’m not absolving the men
Who’d engage in all kinds of sin
I remember gangster rap
And how that set the trap
Which brought the stress and strife
From tryna live that gangster life
Then the East Coast West Coast war
That didn’t exist before
Remember when Biggie and Tupac were friends?
Instead of how their story ends
They’ire a classic group today
But I remember when NWA
Used to pull out all stops
When they sang **** the cops
And chronicled their lives
Called their girlfriends and their wives
All kinds of ******* and ******
Then would dance down on all fours
Now let me bring you up to date
Would it be wrong for me to state?
When it was our problem alone
It was the prisons we were shown
There was little sympathy don’t cha see
When it was just you and me
Who said they had a problem
There were few out there to solve ‘em
But opioids are everywhere
And it’s a disease now, so I hear
That crosses all socio-economic lines
Now there are many telltale signs
It’s now called an opioid disorder
Past the inner city border
And the word is harm reduction
Instead of out and out destruction
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
Their names will not be on the Wall.
It’s of the ghost patrol I sing.
Veterans of an unloved war.
Men from the age of Kennedy and King.
They’re dying now by their own hand,
by opioids or shotgun shell.
Some are dying by the glass-
As alcohol kills just as well.
They are victims of their memories,
deprived of sleep that will not come.
Post-traumatic stress some claim
Is the reason they have come undone.
See them sleeping on the streets-
a half drunk bottle in their hand.
The members of the ghost Patrol,
the pitiable legion of the dammed.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
you only needed two more.
just a couple and you'd be alright
three more because its been a long day
take six with you;
you'll save the rest for later
or finish them off before 2pm
...47, 48, 49, 50.
i counted them all
so very proud of you
we were going to do it this time
but i was gone
and you were desperate
telling yourself, "this is the last time."
next time i pick up the bottle
it looks different than before
i count out six
ignore the obvious again
and we will try again
and we will do better
and we will starve your beast
until it shrivels away inside of you
because you're my daddy
and addiction can't have you
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 1:54 PM UTC
“Our apparatchiks will continue making
the usual squalid mess called History:
all we can pray for is that artists,
chefs and saints may still appear to blithe it.“
W.H. Auden, “ Moon Landing”
<>
Let us happily and heedlessly
i.e blithely
send the pundits, panderers, and pussycats
and and the ill tempered ones,
the “like~seekers”
whose factual are not actuals
But
opinions gussied up
as itter-bitter-litter factoids on opioids,
of little value
*yeah
they’re history*
seek not likes or to be liked,
make your own history or herstory.,
and you will be admired
'tis a far far better thing…
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 12:26 PM UTC
Your eyes were deep oceans.
Salted with pain.
Drained from our veins.
I have a fear of drowning in you.
Silent confessions were like opioids.
The feelings that consume my heart
are now bone deep.
My cells know.
Why my blood runs slow.
When you kiss my pale
pouty lips.
Further I slip into
the waves of you.
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 11:33 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
If not for the pills
Doctors once prescribed
The musician Prince
Might still be alive
Along with others who
Sought similar relief
Because their stories too
Ended in grief
If not for the greed
On Big Pharma’s part
The opioid epidemic
Right from the start
Might not have grown
To epic proportions
Because of ignorance
And outright distortions
If not for the relaxed
Government regulations
We might not now
Be at our battle stations
Trying to reverse
What’s sweeping our nation
Because opioids doesn’t
Go on vacation
If not for the prevalence
Of the fentanyl drug
And its purveyors
Who are typically smug
Then we might not have
Gotten mugged
In the way that we have
By this deadly drug
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 8:25 AM UTC
I buried one friend last August,
I buried another one last month,
For a year I’ve struggled to help another friend over come addition and failed,
Another person: who kept me sane through my wild teenage years, buried his girlfriend recently, and in turn he buried his feelings with drugs and alcohol, we celebrated his one year of sobriety only a few months ago, no one ever mentioned how morbid your 20’s could be.
So inclusion I think pharmaceutical company’s should have to include “ heartbreak” on their labels, as a side effect too opioids.
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 2:53 AM UTC
alone on the floor again
with a razor as my only friend
tracing the outlines of the veins on my arm
like a child’s coloring book
trying to find a calm deep within
my body becomes a canvas
covered in blue, purple, red
a symphony of shades
like a rainbow for the depressed mind
but it is morbid, an inhumane sight
so I have to keep them hidden away
behind barriers of bracelets
and constricting long sleeves
even in the blistering heat
they will never understand how it feels
on the outside it’s destructive and ugly
a permanent reminder of the pain
but the chemical rush is a relief
that no amount of opioids could match
so it’s a good high to chase
and a harder habit to kick
dont ******* believe it’s beautiful
like a classical masterpiece or
a heart-wrenching ballad
because if you saw me behind that door
shivering, naked and lifeless
you would not call it a work of art
but a tragedy
it is an addiction like any other
in all of its ugly glory
and it will push people away
and make their stomachs turn
and you’ll be alone
on the floor
again
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 9:58 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2017
Am I dating myself
With these words out my mouth?
See, I remember a time
When we flashed the peace sign
And called one another
Sister and brother
Seems we’ve gone sour
On acquiring black power
And black on black crime
Is the new paradigm
When we look in the mirror
It becomes much more clearer
That we hate what we see
Although that shouldn’t be
Remember freedom marches
Before the golden arches
Then ****** entered in
And we start popin’ our skin
Before we shot it straight into our veins
Which probably explains
Why we regressed
Long before the present opioid mess
It was ****** first,
But then it got worst
So let me take you back
To the era of crack
When a nickel or dime
Could trigger a crime
And what really hurt you
Is the women who lost their virtue
But I’m not absolving the men
Who’d engage in all kinds of sin
I remember gangster rap
And how that set the trap
Which brought the stress and strife
From tryna live that gangster life
Then the East Coast West Coast war
That didn’t exist before
Remember when Biggie and Tupac were friends?
Instead of how their story ends
They’ire a classic group today
But I remember when NWA
Used to pull out all stops
When they sang **** the cops
And chronicled their lives
Called their girlfriends and their wives
All kinds of ******* and ******
Then would dance down on all fours
Now let me bring you up to date
Would it be wrong for me to state?
When it was our problem alone
It was the prisons we were shown
There was little sympathy don’t cha see
When it was just you and me
Who said they had a problem
There were few out there to solve ‘em
But opioids are everywhere
And it’s a disease now, so I hear
That crosses all socio-economic lines
Now there are many telltale signs
It’s now called an opioid disorder
Past the inner city border
And the word is harm reduction
Instead of out and out destruction
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
May 23, 2022
May 23, 2022 at 5:33 AM UTC
The bar was nearly empty as the barman cleaned a glass.
This establishment is closing. Its glory days long passed.
The jukebox sat in silence; A regular nursed his beer.
Before too long they’ll put another drugstore chain in here.
My Uncle and my father both worked here and tended bar.
Its heyday was in the 50’s when the boys came home from war.
A friendly local tavern; an essential spot in life
Where you came to drink with buddies and escape your scolding wife.
This place of refugee now succumbs. We all know that its true.
Cold beers are in less demand when opioids get you through.
With the cost of the insurance, the wages and the rent,
It’s been run as a nonprofit for so long that all’s been spent.
The awnings lights extinguished. One last toast for old times’ sake.
Let there be tears of joy and sorrow; This is an Irish wake.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 8:31 AM UTC
It was not the worth
of a cloud,
your garden, sitting
on the lake.
Refresh drops, in the
dry eyes of the rope, which was
wounding around your neck
like a snake.
You want to become
a blue god now, on
opioids. A living ruin, attracting
the tourists.
The terrible change,
we are dragging our dead body
under the shadow of
the toes.
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 11:39 PM UTC
Bullies
By: Ben Crump
I feel their judging glares
As i am walking down the hall they stare
People boasting about themselves,
But i sit back and conceal
I hear the people talking behind my back
Being hit with a brick, but i try to stay on track
The ones who pass me
They don't know my story
But they will never know
How much it can hurt
It starts to get worse
Teasing turns to bullying
Pushing me when they notice me
Their intentions unknown
I try to ignore them
But they just get harder
It starts to turn more physical
They start to hit me
I feel the bruises forming
I try to tell the counselors
They say “There probably just playing”
I try to tell my parents
They say “You’re overreacting”
Stress builds up in me
I cry myself to sleep
My grades start to drop
The pain keeps growing
I try to tell them to stop
But they just get harder
One by one they join
My friends see right past it
One day we got in a fight
Throwing punches, pow, slap
It ended up badly for me,
On the floor bleeding
The color of the blood
Was a rising sun
The blood was gushing out
As fast as a geyser
I laid there for what felt like hours
But it was only minutes
I pick myself up out of a puddle of blood
Excruciating pain rushed through my body
The fighters were gone
I limp and wadle my way
To some help, because i can't stay
I crawled my way to the nearest door
I juggled the handle
It didn't move
I try the next the door, the same happens
I start to panic
Fear spikes through me
Blood still spilling
I let out a scream
Blood curdling scream pierced the silence
Echoing through the halls
I start to hear footsteps
They were coming closer
I start to black out
The last thing i saw was a face
I wake up in a hospital bed
An IV stuck to my arm
Stitches everywhere
Bandages everywhere
My mom walks in
She sees i am awake
She says i am going to be ok
But am i truly
The police rule the injuries as just an accident
When i heard that i was enraged
I try to tell everyone it wasn’t
But they don't believe me
I don't know what happens
In the outside world
Because i am attached in a hospital bed
I start to become transparent
I start losing friends
The doctor prescribes me opioids
Hoping addiction doesn't add to injury
I take them anyways
Because i can't bear the pain
Yes it sounds like i am whining
But i am telling my story for a reason
Bullying is the worst thing in our schools
And only you can stop it
I know i will remember everything
And i hope they will never forget
Because i now have scars for life
And am in a hospital bed
At the age of 14
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 12:36 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
The biggest drug pusher
That there ever was
Never did half the things
That Big Pharma does
But they get away with it
Primarily becuz
Of the billions they make
For their chest of drawers
The biggest drug pushers
Don’ t live in the hood
But they]re the ones
That get locked up for good
But they’re not the ones
Who ultimately should
When the disparity
Is fully understood
The biggest drug pushers
Wear white lab coats
And often are seen
Tacking copious notes
To justify the opioids
That their scrips conote
That we see them issuing
Out like by rote
The biggest drug pushers
Seem to get away
None have been sentenced
To a prison stay
They’ve been successful
At keeping at bay
Law enforcement
To this very day
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 4:18 PM UTC
Eli brought Chuckie to Paris where
she OD'd in the suite; he saved her life
with Naloxone, sold under the brand
name Narcan among others, a medication
used to block the effects of
opioids, especially in cases of overdose.
Naloxone may be combined with
an opioid to decrease the risk of misuse.
When she was fully recovered
her vacant smile told him she could
use some fresh air and perhaps a little
something to eat. She'd thrown up
on herself & he waited for her to shower.
The hotel maid came in to change
the bedding found it covered in *****
the shower running & Eli having
a cigarette staring out at the Eiffel Tower
in the middle of the city.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
A Temple is desecrated
07/01/2019
When all other means of care are gone
And WOMAN lays her body bare
A Temple is desecrated
Where knowledge is withheld and suppressed
And MIND bares its ignorance
A Temple is desecrated
Where opioids and syringe are the only urges
And BRAIN is left dysfunctional
A Temple is desecrated
When human actions leave all creatures vulnerable
And EARTH cannot heal itself
A Temple is desecrated
When creation itself is misunderstood
And CREATOR cannot be found
A Temple is desecrated
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 12:01 AM UTC
I **** spiders in the basement,
Think my palette's going tasteless.
Wine gets finer by its aging,
Everything between is wasting.
Call it bodies in the cellar.
Does the smell get any better?
Swallow opioids together
Just to fight through stormy weather.
Walk through Hell and make it drizzle.
Spread the pain and let it trickle.
****** a soul out by the nickel.
Nothing's done coincidental
Bible stories not my answer.
Has it ever cured the cancer?
Wars and ****** still the manner.
Call it blasphemy or slander.
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 12:50 AM UTC
Ten thousand years and we're still peasants
Now the ruling class hunt us like pheasants
Presently they act like their oppression is a present
When we act ungracious get gassed till we pleasant
They never cared when opioids hit the street
Why would they when their the pusher
Catch you with drugs they sold and they're the punisher
Arrest an addict and then in the cell they **** her
Evil ************* in the force enforcing like predators
Live life proper and you'll still end up behind bars
If blue stars decide your life offend theirs
Armed like the military and they declare war
On the peasants fighting brutality and alls fair
Might mace a kid cause his skin aint fair
So much pain and I'm no believer but I send a prayer
For every Trayvon Martin and every Tupac Shakur
If we're being real police have never helped me
All they do is spread fear and imprison the free
They'd shoot a man for taking a knee
But let a murderer walk free
Police cause chaos in the street
So defund the police and lets see
If we can have peace, finally
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 12:03 AM UTC