it's the 50th anniversary edition of william burrough's naked lunch, with the original cover, looking at all the annexes is like watching modern history with Russian annexing Crimea, anyway...

indeed the nature of addiction, i chose mine to
cure my insomnia - i *chose mine -
the less nasty less mythical name for it is indeed
metabolism - any hard-craft alcoholic walks into
a bar - drunk ******* and egoistically gluttonous
idiots come out like giraffes - vomiting into
the gutters, more Marilyn Monroe moments
showing off knickers even without the metro gust -
you drink enough and watch people drinking
for the psychoactive ingredient for dis-inhibiting
effects (buttered up talk, smooth there, quasi
Don Juan wannabes) - as Burroughs said: PLAN
YOUR ADDICTION - become addicted if some other
weakness is beating you - amtitriptyline doesn't
work without alcohol to what's desired as the lullaby
effect prior to K.O. - don't measure up to a veteran,
he'll beat you with experience, given it works -
i can imagine why hallucinogenics aren't metabolically
affecting - too much implants concerning the
world beyond, and god, and the secret of the universe -
you can't get addicted to these things - because there's
the bad trip, and you're off the hook - no more spiritual
trips looking for answers - repetition of the everyday
kills it off like flicking off a light switch - but, years
after the Beat movement, the Beats really did underestimate
the addiction of marijuana - they thought it was
the ****** drunk... oddly enough marijuana is linked to
alcohol and ****** addiction, it too is metabolic -
i'm not a medical expert... but i have heard of stoners
and their munchies - anything relating to food,
to metabolism is included, marijuana is the middle-guy
between the standards and Disney -
you heard of being monged, right? marijuana is as addictive
as alcohol - originally a giggly drug, a conversation
starter - marijuana - ends up being
an Jason Segel and Ed Helms film Jeff, who lives at Home,
it's this uncontrollable effect that proper intentions of
marijuana have: supreme thoughtlessness - or
the present vogue concerning "mindfulness" -
Jeff basically overthought himself on the high - he didn't
detach himself from thinking, now he's paying the price -
he's making completely random associations -
and why do stoners always waste their time in front
of t.v. or television - marijuana is a purely auditory drug -
******* to the park, pretend to be a fake Buddha imitation
and create the void in yourself to make your mind
the M25 at 3 a.m. - but this innocence with the Beat
movement associating itself with marijuana is partly
why it was legalised - the government wants rejects and,
to be frank? retards - that's why they legalised it -
they knew with the munchies jokes that marijuana had
the same metabolic addiction components as alcohol and
***** - you're metabolic dude! once addiction sets in
you're no longer in control of brain-freeze - you didn't
think it up on the psychoactive Everest - when the nice
sensation was still there, marijuana realised you zombie much
later - all the in-jokes of stoner culture suddenly passed you,
simulation dementia ensued - i'm way past the psychoactive
asset of alcohol, no slurred speech, no nothing -
but i retain the psychoactive point of metabolising excess
alcohol: if i didn't, i would sleep! i wouldn't sleep!
don't get me wrong, i get the point that i can't really
experience the negatives of reaching the psychoactive purpose
of alcohol and ***** in a street or join the football hooligans -
and surgeons drink to calm the nerves and calm the hand -
but alcohol is more cool headed and less phantasmagorical
than ***** addiction, for one thing your palette improves -
you find the most boring tasks liberating -
but the nights are the real nights, esp. if slumped on the sofa
watching t.v., unless you don't have a backlog of un-watched
Versailles or Billions episodes, you really need to go for
a 4 mile walk and breath the air - then half-sleep for
about an 2 hours (because you have limited money and
sometimes you pass a day without Auburn Whitney) -
you become rigorous - the prime solipsism - no time for
girlfriends, doesn't matter, my genitals weren't mutilated
as a child, no one forced a ****-*******-marriage-ring
on my finger - i can actually enjoy addiction - i end up
eating one meal a day - of course my face looks candyfloss
puffed up - but my soul is partly helium pubescent -
alcohol addiction is not ***** addiction even both
are primes of metabolism takeovers - no hung-overs too,
no blackouts - no fake "i can't remember" stories
when something ****** up happened - and certainly no
innocent look at the fact that marijuana is also a metabolic
addiction - unless of course you limit psychic ingestion
(excluding music, music is great to arrive at thoughtlessness),
but as most stoners (the next alcoholics) prove,
garbage the mind with American Dad and then get hungry -
binge eat - the stomach can drag the brain right down
into the acid pit and fry it - zombies galore - you won't be
able to catch yourself stopping thinking, the stomach
will do that for you, and you'll enter the zombie apocalypse:
just like my neighbour - there's a rat-like ritual involved,
for example, most people get sleepy from marijuana -
so it's not an addiction standing at a bus stop
pretending to be waiting for a bus and smoking?
that's addiction - the metabolic Gargantua has already caught-up,
addiction is primarily a solitary affair - it just depends
what you do with it... i'd be ashamed with my alcoholism
if i didn't write poems - the counter-effect is that i feel
some sort of social-inclusion when the day finishes -
i feed the cats, write invoices for my father (40% of
18 - 35 year olds live with their parents, because all
the foreigners bought all the houses intended as: buy to let -
is my money going down my drain, or is this
a post-Freud Oedipus stigmata killing familial relations
altogether?), cook, clean the house once a week,
cut the cats' nail and brush them - and to counter
what i don't do? can you imagine listening to a symphony
with only violins playing? not so genius hearing that
sort of Hollywood story with only cameo characters speaking.

Who owns Jack Jones, is he part of your clan?
Does Mr Jones actually exist, is he a real live man
Why does he resemble Boyd, is this part of his plan
Jack is such a manly name, but so is Phil and Stan

Don't use "Boy" within your name, you'll impose an adult ban
Boyish names are not much good, there not like John or Dan
You wouldn't call grandfathers boys, or say girl to your nan
Stop abusing ol' Jack Jones, and avoid Boyd if you can

Boyd is easy to avoid, its easier than we thought
An alteration has took place, but that's what Boyd has sought
Elusiveness is not too smart, because already you've been caught
We've worked out who Jack Jones is, and it accounts to nought

Your lacking iron clad alibis, nothing is set in wrought
It's criminal to own Jack Jones, so please would you abort
No rights to use another name, your being a bad sport
Is Boyd considered as a name, or is it "boy" for short

Intellect is not too strong, that's only what you think
Using an alias is unwise, if you show a photo link
Why bother changing to Jack Jones, how low you gonna sink
Your mother's been kept in the dark, about releasing your white ink

Is Jack Jones the one, who's been sinking in the pink?
Wasn't it Boyd's low ***** count, that went inside the mink?
You are skating on thin ice, when there's cracks in the rink
Just who owns Jack Jones, when Boyd's back from the brink

Identities are broken, just what did you think you'd gain
Your just a ******* imbecile, to think you'd relieve the strain
You can't hide yourself away, you must be quite insane
It's not as though your mother lives, in germany or Spain

Everyone knows who you are, it's in your face and plain
It is just pathetic to make Jack Jones the main
Jack Jones is just too common, you should try a name like shane
Just don't **** about with names, or Jack Jones will be jocks Jane

Your ashamed of what you've done, you try to skulk and hide
You didn't mind the ******, or having your fun ride
Be a man and not a "Boyd", it's time to turn the tide
Come on Boyd you did not avoid, legs that were astride

Morality is in pursuit, but you have no sense of pride
Who's Jack Jones supposed to be, now  sperms slid down the slide
Other aliases may exist, do you have bits on the side
Or are you only interested, when things are open wide

Is Jack Jones the father, or is he born from rubber clones
Boyd is the spitting image, he's been seen on mobile phones
Hostile namesake takeovers, do you have *** slaves and drones
There's no sense in your deception, because this isn't Game of Thrones

We don't want identities stolen, you borrow names like loans
Jack's already being used, it's a name that someone owns
Maybe names can hurt you, as well as sticks and stones
So cease in your activities , you don't know who owns Jack Jones

It's true
A world without love
Life would be much easier
No pain
No heartbreak
For the love of money?
Nope
No corporate takeovers, no greed
For the love of power?
Nope
No wars, no genocide
Without love
There would be no hate

It's true
In a world without love
Life would be much easier
But
Life would be incredibly dull
Like the stars had been plucked from the skies
All of the color had been taken from the sunset
No more passion
Progress would cease to exist
Laughter would be heard like silence
And a baby's smile wouldn't mean anything

It's true
Shadows couldn't exist without light
And the truth remains the same for hate and love
A world without love might be easier
But that's a world I don't want to live in

Don't wanna need somebody
Who wants to see me fall
Tired of living with nothing
When I know, if I tried, I could have it all
I just need someone to carry me a minute
I'm so tired of climbing this wall
It's so ******* tall
And right now I'm so weak
I just need a cold drink
A moment to think
To catch my breath so I can speak
My world right now is so unforgiving and bleak
I tried turning the other cheek
But he bruised that one too
Turned it black and blue
He is so worthless, and wanted to make sure I was too
Relentless and heartless with no ******* clue
That I may bend and fold
But break? I will not
If there's one thing that I have learned
That I was taught
Is to never show someone all you've got
Only bring to the table what is brought
Because really, this fight has already been fought
Don't let a man get you caught
In the same exact life you worked so hard to leave behind
Keep yourself a piece of mind
Things get rough, but I know in time
I'll start to relax and let myself unwind
The world is ruthless. So unkind
But I gotta keep my eyes open
I'm not blind
I'm in a rut but I will find
A way to stand up and get back on my grind
Gotta pay attention so I don't miss my sign
I may be quiet and a little reserved
I never get anything I'm told I deserve
But one thing I know, that no one can deter
Is that God has given me a gift with words
Maybe they'll save someone who doesn't prefer
To live like this, and in their darkest hour they heard
The pain and sadness in my rhymes
The clarity and hope within those lines
I've never had anything to really call mine
Just weeks and years of wasted time
That apparently I needed to waste so I could find
My inner strength I thought I'd long ago left behind
And I still lose it from time to time
But writing my tragedy and weaknesses
Helps to remind
Me that yeah, life is hard
And my decisions ****
And more times than not
They bring on a series of bad luck
And I tell myself to **** it up
Pretend like I don't give a ****
The positive things in my life, I duck
And dodge and put off and avoid
The dope gets me so **** paranoid
Just trying to get comfortably numb like Pink Floyd
Completely unaware that the devil has been employed
His number one job is to strip me of joy
To treat a human life like a discarded toy
Sticking me to another abusive man, I mean boy
Who makes it his personal mission to destroy
The beauty and integrity I've fought so hard to save
That lives inside me and helps me stay brave
Because I'm too scared to come out of my cave
Take out a red flag, hold it up and wave
And admit to myself that this high that I crave
Is also what almost brought me to an early grave
Because of the chunks of my soul that I gave
Away so carelessly only to become a slave
To a life of despair
No hope. Beyond repair
Living with a man who tried to set fire to my hair
This man is literally half demon, I swear!
There are things that he did that I will never talk about or share
He came so close to stripping me bare
But the demon isn't always there
So when I met him, I was completely unprepared
For the flip of the switch, the momentary glare
That distracted me just long enough
I was totally unaware
Of the intense feelings I would develop
For this man and his demon
Had a heart that cared and had my body screamin
I felt so alive! I had to be dreamin
And I sure the hell was, only now it would seem
He became this spy
Trying to help the wrong team
So cool and casual
BAM!
Unrelenting, fake, and mean
Somewhere in his DNA
You'll find Satan's gene
He could be the Antichrist for real, I mean
The embodiment of Satan
Whose birth was never intervened
He feeds on chaos and confusion
Plans takeovers of souls through hostile intrusion
The human side gives off a glamorous illusion
But when the smoke and mirrors fade
Living in hell is an untold inclusion
Of the package you must claim
After you sign the contract
Once the ink dries there's no going back
And I fell for it all! The whole ******* act!
Love, life and Loyalty
3L was our pact
Never had the time to react
Couldn't let myself retract
But now, looking back
I know this as fact
Your days of demeaning me are through
I no longer have to lean on you
In my heart I know that we are through
So goodbye, farewell, and ******* TOO.

walking through artificial American Dream
where the air tastes like $100 shirts
and the fraternity of extravagance
the light shines through the perfectly spaced trees
to turn everything filigree
and all of the people
walking tall and confident
like plastic action figures of success
the silver spoon tastes bitter
when it’s been in someone else’s mouth
just like the $30 dollar entrees
and the four story department stores
these people are not my people
my people sport scars which they wear like tattoos
my people sport second hand cars with junked up speakers
A ferrari engine sounds like a the cries of every young kid
who falls into ghetto trappings of big dreams gone unmatched
and even the homeless people were eating ribs
drinking starbucks
with cups filled with ten dollar bills
the prestige drips down the wall
like fresh spray paint
to drip into storm drains
where diversity goes to die
this alien land of hostile takeovers
and university donors
where the **** is non-existent
but *******, cirroc, and xanax
flow freely
chemical castration of the lazy philosopher
an injection of man made ambition
where the hands on the Rolex
keep tight around throats
because being late to that meeting is no option
Children being driven around by chauffeurs in Bentleys
women being driven by the promise of security
I think to myself
I’ll never see the benefit in the scheme
which leads to El Dorado
and Atlantis is just a myth
maybe I just bleed the black and Gold and Richmond
like the ink dripping off my hungry fangs
to see the benefits of injecting a syringe
of Hoya blue liquid sapphire
to get so high
that I lose sight of the ground forever

By: Cedric McClester

Before they can
Pass the baton
Where they’re holed up
In Oregon
Don’t give ‘em time
To sigh or morn
The law must win
This marathon

If their militia
Refuses to be flagged
Once identified
And toe tagged
Take ‘em out
In a black body bag
Wrapped inside
A confederate flag

Why allow ‘em
To break in armed?
Threatening folks
Will sure be harmed
If they reject them
Or aren’t charmed
Because the government claims
The land that’s farmed

Are takeovers
The new pandemic
Or do I sound schizophrenic
They are clearly becoming
Endemic
And more to the point
Pathogenic
Now they’ve even become systemic




Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.

For as long as there has been a cerebral cortex, there has been teaching
Humans, even the dumbest among us, for knowledge we are reaching
But somethings happened to the state of our education
And I speak from experience, in the trenches of our education nation
Something is wrong, something must be done, the war cry began
Teachers were fired, and some couldn't get up again.
Schools went their separate ways, like fighting friends
Some took up the new approaches like the latest fashion trends
Skinny jeans now, but bell bottoms were all the rage I remember when
Then there were the school takeovers by the State and army then
School became a grind, of test scores and dead students filling in bubbles
And that's pretty much where we're at, and still, yeah, there's troubles.

spikes on graph paper
a biography of the earth's
distracted driving

masses merging with another:
hostile takeovers of stone; skyscrapers crumble,
choking apocalyptic dust in their wake

then tsunamis soar,
a fierce baptismal; my mountain home
spared the deluge though

inside, the family's china escaped
from its cabinet, only to be gravity's meal
and shatter in shards myriad

one serving dish survived,
flesh from the lamb filled it, steaming
only a fortnight ago

we'll buy new plates, ones
that will remain in silent stacks, until
another festive event

or until the seismograph records
another jagged jump, scribing one more tale
of earth's lamentable tensions released

A dissident,
Intricate lyricist
Implements
Policy
Volubly
Imposing prose,
And inciting
In writing
Takeovers
In droves,
Turns the drones
Into dawning red rovers
And clones
Who fawn over
The radical zeal
When she feels
Like berating
Opponents'
Ill logos appeal
To pure reason
In teaching it
Languages learn
To articulate grievance
In slashing
And burn

The Wrestler

Sleek and slender with
Aerodynamic curves.
The sweat and smells of defeat
And the rapid flutter of whistle
And the occasional strained
Pulled sprained dislocated
Disjointed daunted jaunted
Stunted jammed and jostled
Human thrown across
rubber and foam and plastic.

Hurt by death
Twisted and torn and stretched to pieces
Through giveaways and usurpations
And takeovers and dominion rights
Not knowing where ends the detriment.
Strung together by wires and
Ink pens and signature lines
Mapping out adolescence
In the rearview lies a trail
Of broken promises or promising
Nothingness, a quagmire.

Screens which once shielded
Her modesties now rebuilt as
Hog troughs and kennels roofs
And tables for orangutans to perch,
A crow’s nest from which to
Target passer-bys with hurled
Feces.  Her modesty stolen yet
her Self continuously intact.

Mother

Without her presence
Random mosaic of life
Events and changes and shadows
Lifting the veil lifting the spirit
With guilt and wanton desire for
More time as if it really existed.
Answering the Siren’s song was
Unexplored by those of us
On this end, but by ink and memory
And glossy faded Polaroids.

She is idolized
Eulogized – leaving behind a beacon –
No stone nor seal nor
Piece of parchment could have
Created a more stunning
Masterpiece.  Tis no great
Rembrandt or Michelangelo
But this simple sinful woman
Created something so sublime.
No artisan would dare, no
Craftsman would be enough skilled,
No artist so bold or audacious-
But this naïve heralded an angel.

Victoria

Named for a great waterfall
Or a long standing monarch,
Her heart bled truth and
Her song wailed in agony
But her mouth, genteel and melancholy
Yet the story it told was a whisper
of something greater.  Her tongue
could speak of the sweetness and the
lightning and the immediacy of life.
And I fell into her eyes and she
Echoes in my heart.

I’ve wiped away her tears
And I’ve cradled her inabilities.
She bled on my sincerities and
Collapsed at my feet.  Solemnity
Awaits her every move, but most
Deserving of joy- something that
Evaded her for so long.

A toddler tiptoes back and forth
Moving merely inch by inch as
Balance is learned and gravity
Defied over months and years.
Passion has no such wait, yet
Happiness, the quest for the grail
Toddles toward some never ending
Oasis upon the horizon.
It is with the passing of years
That joy becomes ever more present
Long since suffered, long awaited joy.