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

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.

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

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.

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

Bathe and bask in the smog
and let it become part of you
as you step out onto your
sidewalk cemented front yard
in the cold windy bitterness
that slices and dices your face
like an 80s horror slasher.
Accelerated footsteps in the
stampedes of raging bulls
alongside sewer rats
that scrape and scrounge
for dead rotting meat and
disease infected feces
in dumpster palaces.
Quasi-soiled bums and
bag ladies push shopping carts
filled with trifling treasure troves
and putrefaction in
filth and squalor
of the streets and gutters.
Panhandling and playing guitar
for loose change and lint *****
to run down to the local convenient store
and purchase their nicotine breakfast
and liquid bread
to get them through the day.
High rise buildings
in public housing districts,
where striplings dangle their legs
from fire escapes,
blasting boom boxes
and smoking spliffs
as they watch the adolescence
open fire hydrants on hot summer days
and toss lace-tied shoes
over power lines to indicate
the local drug hotspots.
Young suburbanites
swarm to the slums
to purchase the opioids and stimulants
that can not be found in their
utopia of the suburbs.
Urban ghettos are like combat zones
filled with mugging,
gang fights
and drive-bys.
As the world turns,
they're unscholarly minds
turn to murderous rage.
Parking meter maids ticket,
boot and impound
land yachts and puddle jumpers
to collect tax revenue for the
money grubbing municipality.
Anguished pregnant women
stand in overcrowded subways
while the disparaging
pussifacation of masculinity
comfortably sit as they
ride along the colored lines.
As the sun sets and
the hours of darkness arise,
the night crawlers and troglodytes
seep through the cracks of
condemned buildings to play
in the sandboxes of depravity.
The night is where the
hard concrete jungle comes alive.
Where the money is made
in this metropolitan playground
filled with libertines and temptresses
that prey upon *** deprived wallets.
Swindlers ring out every last drop
of currency from leaf peepers,
like a sopping wet towel.
Mad men run amok in the
wild streets begging for filled pockets
and sharing silly stories
and crazy conspiracies
to any ear that will listen.
Hot dog and taco stands
supply the most supplemental
nourishment.
Not a tree in sight.
Not a star in the night sky.
Under charcoal clouds,
planes soar through the
pink pollution and acid rain
showers down on all of them.
The banality of urban dwellers
filled with monochrome minds
and deep languor hearts
rest in twin beds of
studio apartments
and fall asleep to the
comforting sounds of
loud trains,
police sirens
and car alarms
as the city slowly ***** them in
and swallows them whole.

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.

I had my first kiss at the cinema, the contour of our silhouettes illuminated by the glow of the rolling credits. He tasted like Altoids and cigarettes, an ambivalent concoction of ice and fire. At one point, I'd bitten him by accident. Whether this was a manifestation of inexperience or (seductively, with heat in her eyes) hunger,  I'm not sure. But, sitting there in the thrill of My Something New, I was certain of one thing: this was a red carpet moment, the stuff of silver screens and glimmering Hollywood starlets and rows of type writer ribbon waiting to be transposed into something theatrical.

After the film, we sat outside a cafe a block over, the fever of summer adhering to the back of our necks like (giggling) misplaced hickeys. Smoke corkscrewing from the end of his parliament, he told me how John F. Kennedy was addicted to opioids. I couldn't help but think back to earlier that afternoon when he first admitted to being a smoker. How he'd asked me, "Is this going to be a problem for you?" hesitation rising up his throat like bile.

I smiled because 'Everyone's got their poison," I replied.  

And poison? Well, there's something so strikingly poetic about it, don't you agree?

(beat.)

JFK must have been Marilyn Monroe's poison, I think.

"So," I offered, "What do you really think happened to Marilyn Monroe?"

"How do you mean?" he said between drags of his cigarette.

"I mean was it really an overdose or--"

"Was it an assassination?" he interjected.

"Mhmmm."

Another drag of his cigarette.

"As they say, the simplest answer is often the correct one."

"Maybe. (beat.) But what makes for the better story?"

After two weeks of courtship, he took his leave. My mother's obvious, unwarranted disapproval was, perhaps, a source of anxiety for him. Me being freshly eighteen, he was also concerned about that (sarcastically) whoppin' three year age gap. (beat.) Not fully buying it, are ya?

Well, neither did I.

Here's my theory: his feelings (or lack thereof) were the reason he called it quits. And instead of being a man--instead of being honest, instead of owning up to the true nature of his intentions--he spun some relatively believable excuse. A coward's way of removing himself from a situation he doesn't want to be in. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't as disappointed as I would have anticipated, had I foreseen the end of our fleeting romance.

I was (beat.) fine.

It does make for a great story, after all. (wryly) But you knew that already.

Because for every Norma Jean, there's always a Marilyn Monroe.

Tell me then--who are you?

(beat.)

Girl curtsies, transitioning into a tableau of Marilyn Monroe's iconic pose wherein she attempts to hold down her dress as the air from a nearby subway grate threatens to expose her undergarments.

Lights fade out.

{Fin}

she lays on one side,
and he lays on the other.
                                               ✦
she is a beautiful flower against the brutalist landscape,
he, thistle and thorn on a path rightfully left untrodden.
                                               ✦
she is an ornate nib against the parchment, gliding with grace,
he, a metal implement against the wood, etching with fire.               
                                               ✦
she is my first musing in the early morning,
he, my final contemplation at night.
                                               ✦
she is the uplifting ionian in a chord progression,
he, the dark, dissonant sharp iv of the fanciful lydian.
                                               ✦
she smiles,
he frowns.
                                               ✦
i  know i can't keep fetishizing the idea of compromise.
s o  g e t  o u t  o f  m y  h e a d,
and croon the dirge with me.
                                               ✦
no more rifts or ultimatums, please.
please...
i can't be alone any longer.
                                               ✦
don't make me choose right now.
no. NO.
just hold me tight,
and tell me things will get better.
                                               ✦
in my nightstand, there lies a bottle of pills
(some old opioids, i think)                                            
and a paring knife.
                                               ✦
you both are the reason i don't pick up either.
both of you are my lifeline...
no more rifts or ultimatums, please.
just both of you, and me.
                                               ✦
can you love two people at once?

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.

Have you ever wondered why we go to war,
or why you never seem to be able to get out of debt,
why there is poverty, division, and crime
what if I told you there was a reason for it all
what if I told you it was done on purpose
what if I told you that those who are corrupting the world
poisoning our food,
and igniting conflict
were themselves about to be permanently eradicated from the earth
you might think that an idealistic fantasy
well let me tell you a story
we acknowledge there are criminals of course
they rob your house, they steal your phone
they can ****** you too if they think they can get away with it
we have all experienced criminals in one way or another
criminals as we know are those who choose personal gain over the rights of others
with no regard for the law
but here is where you need to expand your thinking
criminals can also succeed in business and politics
and can be elected as our leaders
if a criminal became the president imagine what they could achieve,
they could use the full weight of their executive power to commit much larger crimes
and ensure they and their friends were enriched to the fullest extent possible
a criminal president could make alliances with other criminal presidents
and collaborate on more global activities
anything goes drug running, human trafficking, whatever makes the big bucks,
the 20th century was turbulent with war economic disaster famines and displacement.
we have always accepted these things as just human nature
and simply the way the world works, something inevitable
and due to the weaknesses of human nature that drive us to these actions.
this is where we were all tragically wrong,
you are not a criminal, i'm not a criminal,
so how can we just assume that it is human nature that is driving all this pain and misery?
What if it wasn't human nature at all?
and as a result of something more deliberate.
we were taught that capitalism was the cause of a massive rich poor divide
and the reason for poverty which in turn is the reason for war crime and starvation.
others were taught that communism, the system of equal wealth across all people
was really to blame for the mess.
but you see folks, it is none of these things
it is not our nature to fight and be racist
it is not in our nature to rob from others
what you must learn is that it was the criminals all along,
yes they got power, more power than a criminal should ever have
they rose to the top of media companies that control our news and entertainment
they ascended to the top of the banking system,
also to the oval office, to brussels, to the vatican, to the crown,
they crept in quietly.
they became leaders of agricultural companies that have control over our food supply
also big pharmaceutical companies, the ones we trust to help us when we are sick,
nobody stopped them, they just recruited more criminals to help.
first they accumulated the worlds wealth,
they invented a system of money called central banking,
which lends money to government with interest that places countries into eternal debt
peoples death got less their wealth got more, much more,
when a criminal is already as rich as they can get,
protecting their ill-gotten gains becomes the priority.
angry citizens tired of being poor are a major obstacle
and can revolt if they suffer enough
the criminals needed to prevent this
so they diverted attention to the last remaining competitor,
the people of the world, you and me,
we were not happy being ruled by criminals
and having to work 3 jobs just to survive,
they know we won't accept it,
they use their control of the media to set black against white
woman against man
young against old
muslim against christian
they convinced us we were the ones who were the problem
so we would fight and destroy ourselves.
to get it done faster they attacked all aspects of humanity that make us strong,
like family,
using their influence over culture
they popularized lifestyle choices that led to a surge in broken homes,
lost youth, and substance abuse.
i could talk all day about how else they deliberately weakened us
and it would turn your stomach we were just trying to get on with living.
so where are all the good guys?
good people just want to get married, have kids, make a living, and enjoy their liberty,
well there were good guys, many, one became the president of the united states
in january 1961 he knew about these criminals and wanted them gone.
he knew their intentions for us all and he wanted to fight them sadly,
he had no idea how powerful they had become.
reagan also had good intentions for the american people,
he knew this criminal mafia controlled almost everything by this stage
including powerful rogue intelligence agencies
his economic policies were promising
but these criminals needed a weak america to hold on to their power
reagan was shown with a bullet
that a growing us economy and prospering citizens were not what the criminals wanted.
it was looking pretty grim for good people,
every time someone wanted to stand up and do the right thing
they got stopped.
were we ever to be freed?
these criminals are also known as the deep state or cabal
because of how they control things behind the scenes.
every president after reagan was one of these deep state criminals
and their empire got even stronger
with each bad president came new depths to which america and the world would sink.
the world collapsed into darkness,
do you need me to tell you how?
destroyed factories,
declining job numbers,
sicker people,
opioids,
destruction of iraq,
syria, and yemen with pointless war,
displacement of people into europe,
isis, terrorism, collapsed governments, poverty and genocide,
total misery, do you think that was inevitable?
Hell no,
well here is where things start to take a new turn
when the full picture becomes known,
it will easily be regarded at the greatest story ever told.
well here is the top line.
some good people still held positions of power,
they valued humanity and the rule of law,
while criminals discussed their game plan at bilderberg meetings
the good guys were making plans of their own,
the information age was coming to change history forever.
as the internet flooded into every home
and appliances became smarter
and when people started carrying tracking devices,
an opportunity to put an end to criminals all over the world was emerging,
we became connected, trackable, and surveilled,
but so did they.
they became dependent, just like we did, on email, sms, instant communication,
it made crime much easier,
but it also put them on a grid that if accessed by the right people,
would expose their crimes to the public and end their iron grip on us once for all.
in this new age of information
it was thought that the military should also have its own intelligence agency
to focus on cyber crime and espionage,
they called this the NSA, the national security agency,
the relevance of the NSA in the story cannot be understated,
here we had every phone call, email, and text
from every device stored and archived
whether it be someone making a doctors appointment,
or the deep state setting up a massive ****** purchase from the taliban
in the right hands, it would be enough information to expose the entire sinister criminal plot
to rob us blind and wipe us out.
hold that thought,
now I need to explain, the plan,
the good guys were devising a plan,
to reclaim the world from the cabal,
return it to the people,
it would involve alliances with multiple countries,
since the criminals had global ratlines to train
and other infrastructure in place that would need cooperation.
it came down to two choices for america,
one, a military coup to seize the government
from whichever cabal puppet was in the whitehouse at the time,
or win legitimately,
take control of the nsa,
expose the criminals for what they are,
and arrest them all,
obviously the first option would be very troubling for the public,
with people still preoccupied with cabal engineered social issues,
they would likely revolt, and hurt themselves, and others,
no, it would have to be the latter,
so they needed a candidate who could win, and win big, many states like california had been so heavily inundated by criminals
that even the voting machines were electronically setup to swing votes whichever way.
it would need to be a very decisive victory.
good patriots in the us military and their global partners
asked trump to run for president
so they could take back control of america legitimately
without alarming the public,
trump was a good choice, obviously,
because he overcame the voter fraud and won
but he was a patriot, and he was loved and admired by the public
he was not interested in joining the cabal
mainly because they hated america and did not agree with them
on that point as soon as he showed interest in taking power,
they activated their media assets to viciously turn on him
thats when we saw the sudden hatred emerge
even when he won the cabal still had no idea what he was a part of
and the sophisticated plan that was about to unfold against them
shocked at their loss they mobilized their full arsenal
of intelligence, media, money, and technology
to try and take back power.
their people at the top of the doj and fbi put together a plan to frame trump
and have him impeached.
this is where we come back to the NSA again,
all the messages were stored and could be used to expose this plot
and prevent trump's overthrow.
and entire book will be written about the first two years of trump's presidency,
false flag terror attacks, downed planes, missile alerts, assassination attempts.
here is the point,
the world is currently experiencing a dramatic covert war of biblical proportions
literally the fight for earth between the forces of good and evil.
i can't put it in simpler terms,
but I can say it appears that the good guys are winning
the cabal had complete control over north korea,
they hijacked the kim dynasty took them hostage,
and worked to build up a nuclear arsenal to threaten the world,
kim jong un, suddenly embracing peace
was simply because the deep state was beaten and driven out.
isis was also destroyed in the year following trump's win
we are all starting to see the pattern
now that enough time has passed that our biggest global concerns are starting to recede
and peace is returning.
it is all evidence that the good guys are winning the war,
but we are still in the middle,
while a lot is improved,
it still puzzles many that known criminals are still free,
especially the higher ups like hillary clinton,
the bushes, and obama,
that is coming in the next chapter of the story
that's why we have Q,
the good guys with control over the NSA began the Q intelligence dissemination program
to invoke online grass roots movement that came to be called the great awakening.
it started on underground internet channels
and moved to the mainstream.
q has been a fun distraction for those who follow world events and desire truth
but it is about to begin a much more important and necessary phase,
keeping the public informed when the deep state war breaks out on the surface,
by this i mean high profile arrests, yes folks,
the criminals i'm referring to are famous politicians, actors, singers, ceos and celebrities.
people who have earned our trust, respect and admiration,
they have done very bad things that are all fully known and documented
and they will be severely punished,
those of us who have followed Q since the beginning
will be here to help you make sense of the coming events
we are among the first to realize that our petty partisan divisions are trivial distractions
and we are all enslaved by a hidden enemy
we realize that the problem was never capitalism or socialism, democrat or republican,
black or white, muslim or christian.
we realize it was criminals who had too much power,
fellow slaves, it's time to buckle your seat belts,
recognize your true enemy,
and embrace a new future that we all owe to the brave patriots who risked their lives
to achieve this victory against the greatest force of evil the world has ever known.
-Anon
#WhoIsQ

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.

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.

Months ago I awoke
to an almighty hypnopompic brain-zap
provoked by dreams of lisdexamphetamine-laced cereal.
Forceful, shocking, agonizing; strange to have felt this
when I lack any acquaintance with Vyvanse, and
when I am clean of residuals. That a dream
should cause real pain, such reaction
in my being, I wonder how
my brain contoured
the experience.

Weeks ago I grappled
with a prolonged tension headache
so I administered paracetamol, ibuprofen/codeine,
And buprenorphine/naloxone. Those opioids
provoked strange daydreams, to countenance the many idioms
I've grokked over.

I used to think my superpower was depression,
I'd go around seeking pain
because nothing else would sooth me; and with each pang
I came a little closer, chasing it
like a true addict, savoring my damage,

Exalting in my lonely conscience.

When I awoke the opiates were leaving my body
so I lay in their dark waves of intemperate sensation
among what thoughts etch onto the inside of my skull
and found myself driving with a concussion
towards a home for misanthropes.

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.

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.

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

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.

They all approached the Colosso  from Apsila, from where the eleventh star began to make the quantum leap of conformation of twelfth aligned stars. The combat explorations in multiple routes showed the compliance of the identical Eddaphos or the sacred homeland of Patmos in the significant profile as a strategy by Eddaphs that seemed seas of prejudice and confusion of the farmhouses around which was not conquered by anyone, nor was anyone immolated. It was only the magnificence of the Colosso of Apsila that gave the saddles to empower itself from the detonation of atomic light, which was fired from Tire and Gaza on the riverside where today was the residence of Mardiath; Vernarth's lieutenant of the lights of the capital of Memphis, where he temporized areas that were worthy of an atrium of predilection to repopulate all the areas from where Persephone would sprinkle cinnabar for the Persian yokes, to compensate the Oracle of Siwa in the interstices of a god Hellenic Egyptian Zeus-Amun who would reside between his gums. When capturing the highlands and the lowlands, immediately joining the triangulation of the Beit Hamikdash temple and all the currents of the Euphrates, in the direction of Susiana where Vernarth was sitting on the gold horse, after dismounting from Alikantus, glimpsing luxuries and becoming of specters with the Manes Apsidas, congenializing before entering the Pasargada entrance parapsychology, since these succulent areas of gold managed to cross the Euphrates in parapsychology of annihilation, but when bilocating in the supply units insufficient flow, to divert the Attention from the stubborn Persians who still wanted to pursue their siege vows.

Possibilities of superior authorities remained in the infra predominance of their overexcites that encouraged them to deviate from their points of despotism to become from on high in the stream that shone by making propaganda of two ascars in the breadth of the plain, only leaving the cessation of first admission in front of Zefian and his four arrows with the Scythian Archers, in counterbalance to the contingents that were already in full risk of the target territory in the Eruv of Saint John the Apostle, which had demarcated the lines of pachyderm tracks in the frenzy of an oracle that sneaks in from teleportations of audio-sensory iconographies, discovering the mantle of Saint John where he would lead the garrison that would supply the majestic and triumphant portico of the Souls of Helleniká, taking possession of the paragon of quantum in the portico of Susa, from where shimmering looting of capital increased, helping to minorize the territories that would make it possible to aid the gates balance of the accesses of universal connection between Skalá and Susa, from where thousandths of a dorus would already begin to fly for a Macedonian king reference in the doors that would unite both geophysical zones, after attempts that make retentive in images of the struggles of the spectra to the see them, who then dissipated in advance from the cataclysm by convincing themselves of the eternal refuge where battles that had taken place between two rogues prevailed that never had to confront a conjured and assassinated sovereign, after an attempt to rebel in the Battle of Patmia, unable to avoid the recognition of a Satrap like Bessos like the horror of Artaxerxes.

All had been thrown into the possession where the light was present on the elytra of flying organisms, from where the imperceptibility of time and its aetoí or raptors were made free of some prey from the sky that was uncaused unable to support themselves, in means of the Salpinx and Shofar who heeded the voices of angelic *******. The tenors were stewed in stormy queens that dwelt in the mesosphere where Geburah resided for causes outlined in advance, attracting Hellenic claws that were actually a serpent-bearing Ophiuchus that was the thirteenth of the zodiacal sign of the dragon that was stratified in the Opioukos u Serpentarium opioids to settle that it was teleported by Captain Mardiath from Shots by the Wheel of Animals. The celestial groupings were constellated by lurching incontinence of their wills that were not able to advance and attempt what had already been lost. It was already the point of Aries or Vernal as the equinox was marked, from here with the twelve divisions of the zodiacal of Ophiuchus, where the astronomical limits that were in Vilorta were constellated, embracing the iron that held the thalamus of the plow at the helm of Vernarth, tri meaning supposed datas that could correspond to the limit of the quadrant of Aquarius with four new signs since the twelfth signs were distinguished in the wheels of the animals; being Apollo's oxen, having this spelling of the Dodecanese of Saint John after having toured the twelve churches in Turkey, where the collection of the stations would carry the Kouvalíthike se Vódia, "carried by the Oxen" leaving the precipice of the escarpment to Capricorn as the definitive wheel of the twelve divisions of the Dodecanese in the cardinals of the Shemash, making stations of Capricorn and Vóreios of Hyperborea with Wonthelimar, in the extreme north of this dawning night and of the projected equinox, which would be the tangent of the Sun through the celestial south returning again in the fused iconography of all the innkeepers that the astonished swords possessed in their assistances without being able to detach themselves from the reckless image of the scorpion or of an ***** that is illustrated by the ecliptic of the captains of each military squad. The league of fuss and perplexed reactions left them in the limen that became gaseous behind the ecliptic that transpolated the ends of the decision-makers, in these same with the ecstasy of the limits where each cycle appeared in its stunning sponsorships, related of the uncrossings of the bearer that made the cardinal points vary by the ecliptic of Notós de Borker and Dyticá de Leiak, leaving the dawn in the firmament below the mesosphere and the sunrise that was based on the thirteenth zodiacal abode of Ophiuchus, unraveling the gloss of the first postulate of light that was transferred from the unnameable transit of the Apocalypse's declaration. While everyone looked at each other and did not stop wondering when the Colosso of Apsila rose towards the ecliptic of precessional time where she herself detached herself, emerging in her imperceptible time, and carrying seas in the rivers, and rivers over the mountains where the serpentarium more than the sidereal opus that was distorted in the tertiary scale of Aurion, taking them to the Hebraic ladder of Judas Iscariot. The intertestamental analogy would throw the treatises between the Hellenes and Achaemenides and the Mashiach with his multi-consciousness in Judas Iscariot. In this instant of florilege of the heavenly palaces, it was summed up in the female that spread through the nets, hecatombs and afflictions, with crusts of arches that held the quiver from the claws of Beelzebub, which was not imperative for a Geburah who constrained himself to the tension of a god Íblis,  that if he asserted about the temptations of Judas destroying all the temples in the world and the post-captivity of intergenerational breeds, that they would go to the mercy of the host of fatality and inverted horror, that is, with the onslaught of pseudo-Christians who covered themselves with the mantle of the Ofiusco, creating outpourings of the flood that would extol severe genocides of the universe with the immature Apocalypse, which was protected in the ravages of the devastated territories with plagues and morbidities of septem saecula, which would be the execrable legacy of those who did not know that centuries would be born from these spoils of the escapes of the body by the body, only leaving bizarre souls that would reap the inverted step of the genocide, for escapes in the desert of Jerico where if they saw crimson Ophiuchus of the valleys that are from the boiling thesis of who always sees the twelve Giant camels dragging Judas, and clutching camelid legs where he was never safe.

Some people
Take to
The bottle
To deal with their loss

Some people
Take to opioids
To relieve themselves
From life’s
Emotional
And physical pain


Some people
Take their lives
To free themselves
From suffering

I don’t do those
Things
For I have Buddha.

Unleash my tendons from my spine
Opioids death from my addiction issues
Green smoke billows into my core
Mother Nature grows it it naturally
Green smoke I can feel the release
Calm waves , magic liquid gold
Green smoke, chronic pain
Addiction free
Go green as science overwhelmingly
Implode the sickened FDA,
As money is not controlled
by natures way,
Go green