Sorry and sad that this comes out of my brain again, it does at the moment,  for among the ubiquitous money orientated TV competitions are the ever-present newscasts with their on-the-spot reporting.
     As usual, I’ve worked and reworked this to produce a piece of art.

              Chaos & Teargas II

Chaos and teargas
Now choose and viruses once again,
When
What I want is to pass the years
Without the tears, awful fears
In place on a crying face.
How to, It being an end you want too:
All of, each of you
Out there,
Wherever the chances and choices have placed you.

With nearly the yearly Thanksgiving
For most of us living in peace
(Rewriting in March)
Exposed to the chaos while sitting as such,
In chairs or on couches -
Not crouching or fleeing,
Pursued by policemen or soldiers,
We miss being fodder.
How lucky we are!

Suffused with the anger and violence
While eating our turkey and cranberry sauce,
Exhausted and worried
From scurrying youngsters,
Flurries of gangsters & burying mothers…
Smothering gases of withering fires,
And masses of dawdling, dithering leaders,
Chaos and teargas the emblem for hire
We, worn out and tired,..
And now it’s the virus dear readers,
From all of this chaos that rages and grows,
And nobody knows how to stop it.

Chaos & Teargas 11.17.2019/revised, rewritten 3.1.2020
OurTimes, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

I will stand in the shadow of the sun which burns a scar
on the back of people who like
to shift in the shadows of the night
and  blame everybody for giving them a homeland
for their excuses.

I will stand where the teargas
melts my eyes and the batons write their scars
on my coloured skin
because I asked for bread.

I will stand in the light and hum
my soulful music that echoes off
the walls of pop charts and make
everybody dance because they do not
understand my words.

I will stand in the pools of streetlights
and sell my body, my baby, my beauty-
because nobody cared
to ask  me a human question on want.

I will stand before God
and question why he taught me
the language of  worship
amd wisdom to know the difference
between skin and colour  and asking
and read the book he has to offer
that says the truth in so many pages.

I will stand alone.
I will stand alone.

Author Notes
?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

For far too long we have been victims of police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 21st of October.
These are the very same men and women who we trust to protect us.
But they failed us dismally, barricaded us from expressing our concerns.
You could see the visuals all on TV, it was all too hard to believe.
The revolution will not be fully televised, it will be tweeted.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
For far too long we’ve been victims of police brutality.
Your teargas, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so what’s the hold-up for?
History is repeating itself in South Africa, what a time to be alive.
They’ve become worse than their oppressors but they won’t oppress us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
We will keep protesting in Jo’burg, Pretoria and Cape Town until we’re heard.
There’s no amount of police brutality that can dampen our spirits and no gun you make can **** our souls.

Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so why is there a hold-up?
Hold up, we’re tired of being victims of hate, fate and police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 23rd of October.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
Your riot police, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
When burning buildings come down, I just hope you’ll be ready for us all.
When burning buildings come down, we will effortlessly heed the call.

~
This isn't happening
all of the sudden
we need to close the beaches
and call in sick

Don't cry again teargas
it's not your fault
don't get hot there gun
you gave it your best shot

Song and dance, weekend warrior
soothe your soul
with a little radio friendly fire

The forest can be petrified
the sea wild
working without a mask
is both, you know

It's quite out of this world
but you haven't
really seen outerspace
until you've had DayQuil
with dissociatives

Then you take hot trips
to odd places
like an international
convenient store
where they're always
out of Africa and milk

I wish Monday mourning
would go jump off a bridge
I wish taco Tuesday
would become a festive holiday
nevertheless, our girl Friday
is always good for the job

The weight has lifted
the wait has (week)ended
the search for
my socks and sanity
can now kick off
~

we may be the generation
of the next
shakespeares,
curies,
vernes,
einsteins,
akeleys,
sagans.

h­ow can we be boiled down
to a 'standard'?

and when we refuse to stomach
this diluted broth you have served us,
it is force-fed:
teargas for forks,
riot shields for spoons,
tasers for knives;
until our tongues are so awfully burnt
that all we may say is this:

'we are the standard generation.
we are the future for the past.
we have standard answers to extraordinary problems.'

leaders say change will come in
2014,
2015,
2020,
2030,
2050,
please ensure that the numbers on your booklets
match those on your answer sheets.

we will bubble 'a' for global warming,
'b' for the debt crisis,
'c' for war and famine,
but this is a test we didn't study for.

ALRIGHT
I am
so
*******
about ferguson and all of that
the protesting
i fully support the protesting
the teargas
i don't
**** the teargas
the protesting
is being done
because an unarmed black teenager
was murdered
by a cop
and a 12 year old black boy
was playing with a TOY GUN
and he was shot to death
I AM SO *******
LET'S START ANOTHER CIVIL WAR
FOR PRETTY MUCH THE SAME REASON AS THE FIRST CIVIL WAR
THE COPS STILL WALK FREE
AFTER KILLING
UNARMED BLACK CHILDREN
TELL ME WHY I SHOULDN'T BE *******

A symphony for Baghdad:
Words in crimson
On flimsy placards
Held high with anger
Frustration writ
On their ragged features.
The law is hard but it is the law
Says the hypocritical politician
Who bends them all
“Enough is enough”, the people said
Teargas and bullets will not make us sway
Release your bombs and fire your bullets,
Let our blood water this holy ground
Our motherland
But we will not let you stay.
Centuries have passed
Since Sheherezade told her tale
Years have passed since Aladdin’s magic lamp
First touched the minds of the young ones.
Is it a surprise that the young are dead?
Baghdad has fallen
Prey to the hands of those
Who support murdering their brethren and children.
The sun rose and set
The numbers went from thirty to three hundred
And no one cared.
Winners in Baghdad these days are those
Who returns home from the protests
Wearing a necklace of half a metal heart for a pendant
Knowing the other half was lost to the bullets.
They share stories of passion and fury
To hide the void within
Their hope, their faith, lost.
Their sacrifices in vain.
The protests grow old
With news, numbers and names of the players
Of this sick, faux patriotic game.

Lebanon:
The Chaos has affected them far too long
They now out there looking for peace and hope to now spread out more
Havoc almost birthed, they circle and stop the creation
Letting the higher-ups know
Who brings the forth the negatives and hurt
Food and shelter provided
Streets cleaned and maintained for use by all
Wish the world could learn how to function together like this
Imagine a world where
Little children are smiling, greeting other children from different countries and cultures
Living and playing together without a worry in the world
Men and women living in harmony and happiness
Peace an actuality in the world
But that’s only in your head
In reality
Little children are bombed and interrupted by death
Men rather **** the women and **** or shoot down the men that don’t agree with or are against them
Peace is being held on a leash by Chaos
That’s happening in front of your eyes
And right now, you’re probably just gonna read it, like it and move on, but nope.
I see people sharing
More is needed to be done
As I said, I and my friends are bringing the tools
All you have to do is use them properly
If you really want to see peace, you’ll know what to do
I know what I’m doing
Perspective I gained
And now I’m making sure it happens.

Disconnected
Not belonging in any world
Alienated from what once was my life
A scam of who I used to be
Nothing lasts forever, right?

What if I will stay a ghost
An undiscovered kind of poisonous flower
With leaves made of brick
Touching me will make you sick

My words a cloud of teargas
My voice a stinging bee
My thoughts a sword to the heart
Venomous from the start

.
you are a student of law
your family's well off
.

            .
            you've read some books
            and maybe saw a few docs
            you follow Paul Mason on twitter
            young and anxious so
            .

                        .
                        they caught you one time
                        a cop did a cavity search
                        illegally, while his friends watched
                        you've inhaled your share of their teargas
                        and saw your friends' limbs get smashed
                        .

                                    .
                                    your voice is most loud
                                    in an aggrieved crowd
                                    .

                        .
                        when the rage explodes
                        will you be there, next time?
                        you still believe, but for how long?
                        i think i was never a believer...
                        .

            .
            no, i don't doubt you
            not a bit. well...
            but you can always go back
            to the career you came from
            some of us cannot
            .

.
"la beauté est dans la rue"
not always. but yeah, i know.
here's another one, from me:
"la vie est ailleurs"
.

            .
            this fervor will end, i know it
            then, i will still walk here
            then, you will walk elsewhere
            this evening, though
            we 'll march with you
            .

What the Americans believe in
Is racism, war, and money

Not freedom or democracy
But Steve Martin is quite funny

He majored in philosophy
As did I myself

His banjo speaks his soul
Roxanne still on my shelf

Portland now is in revolt
I wish the protest well

The Japanese Garden is heavenly
Trump's teargas is from Hell

What happens when the teargas takes
to the sky and finally disappear.
The fact remains that nothing has changed,
you still have chaos and the taste of fear.

Riots unfold and the looting begins and
the turmoil seem to have no ending.
A mother is somewhere in a closet crying
and her heart has no way of mending.

Everything about life has now been changed
and a total package of disarray.
People shouting from the rooftops and saying
nothing, because they have nothing to say.

Fingers are pointed in all directions without
trying to figure the problems out.
Words are spoken emotionally as the tears fall
down leaving a trail of nothing but doubt.

When in the struggles of life,
She  denied me access
Real access to her juice account,
Chest thumbing of her boundaries,

My boyish was burning eminently,
It was  in need of  the juice,
I pitied myself in disgrace,
But have become better with time,

Jemosi  is no longer the one you know.
You hold no more water,
In my breath you are part of my past,
You killed my love fibres, when  a teargas canister landed on my ****** expressions...

I'm here
To entertain
To play ukelele while
****** addicts in Prague score plump ***** poppies
Under a lazy summer sun
And their flirtations with death and their pursuit of high doses of deep oblivion
Are reduced to a journalist's article submission and the breathing, sweating, bleeding men and women are now
Still lights and colors in an image we can cast blank stares at
I play guitar
And the sound of riots that burned and looted chunks of Baltimore is now poignant accompaniement
For my dainty melodies
The hurling of insults, bottles and teargas
Are just the blazes of Rome for my fiddle
I'm here
As your fellow Rwandan and neighbor
to **** your daughter when our party has declared war upon yours
To chase you and your surviving family with machetes through the thick marshes that surround our farms
And then later mold that nightmarish scenery into a short video in which I
Beg you and the world for the sweet relief of forgiveness
In the background
I'll play a grand piano
I'm calling you
To perform my executive duty and express my heartfelt condolences for the death of your young husband
Whose name I've already forgotten and need to ask you for
Your reaction will be televised between toilet paper advertisements and blatant social conditioning

The pretty melody will continue throughout the daily openings of
Hands
arms
legs
eyes
mouths
cans
boxes
doors
gates
hearts
minds
And I'm not bitter or mad and I dont want you to be either
You think I'll leave you because a client got you pregnant but I wont
I'm here to take care of you in your 60usd hotel room when youre too sick to work
I'm still holding you tight after your close friend overdosed in the bathroom and died
I'm keeping my composure when the interviewer casually asks me if I hate everyone who doesn't look like me
I'm cheating all of my factory workers out of ever getting paid well
And then I'm sending them overseas to steal the jobs of college grads we hired
I'm being born while hundreds of people drown on the MS Estonia
And I'm dying from choking on a salty tortilla chip

Yet Still
The notes will calmly drift
Amidst the gunfire between rebels and regime in the rubble-laden deserts of Syria
Amidst the firm commands from Green Beret cadre to candidate in the lush woods of Camp Mackall
Through the inconviently fatal exit wounds in my teenaged chest
and the large caliber bullet holes in cheap beer cans I'm shooting for practice
I'm not telling you this so you can squeeze our experiences into a mondo film that ego-tripping critics will loathe
I just want you to not fixate so harshly on the particulars of how the codes you crack end someone's life on the other side of the world
And realize for a moment how many of your relationships are just thinly veiled plays made between you and your rut-enabling neuro transmitter dealer
I just want you to walk across this beautiful, extraordinary earth where giant beasts stomped and loving parents were murdered
Walk right over to where I am
And strum these strings
Entertain
While this world lives and breathes and pukes and cries and sings

Oh Canada
You are one hundred and fifty years young
And across this great nation our many
Cultures are proclaimed as asset
Rather than liability
Or so the Head mouths
Until the Head attempts to ban its own niqab

How can We truly be free
When the Head proclaims:
“Smile, you’re on camera, oh patriot
You have nothing to fear if you but OBEY

If you allow our shears to slice
Your liberties free from you
A twisted plot device  
To put in motion
Taxes, taxes,
Bombings, bombings,
So We don’t fall down!”

The Mouth tells us:

“Your safety comes at a price,
Oh Canada
Safety is not a cheap commodity
Oh nation

We owe it to our southern Big Brother
To help enforce peace
It is time for us to pay the bank
What we are owed
Oh country

Like unto what Ginsberg once said;
‘It’s them Russians, them Russians,  
And them Chinamen.  
And the terrorist Boogeyman.’”

Head smiles approvingly at Mouth
As the Hands share Their gospel:

“Children, do not fret,
All is well so
Keep calm and carry on
we act to protect your safety
Feel the comfort of the
Flak jackets of the Watchmen
Strong and secure among us
Patrolling with tanks, guns, and teargas
All is well, little ones,
Let us tuck you in with a sweet THC sleep
we act as we do in your best interests.

The match which lit the state-approved ****
Snuffed out by the wind of the vox populi:

“We cry
Oh nation
Over the spilled blood
Of the unarmed soldier who died
Protecting the epitaph of the nameless
We mourn for the nation’s first
Whose land was unjustly taken
Their wealth pillaged
Distributed amongst *******
We weep for the babies  
Who cannot get into hospitals
Whose waiting rooms filled for hours
Because the doctors are too overworked
To deliver the children
Who will grow up to find
They have none of the skills
For any of the jobs

We cannot keep calm and carry on
Freedom is in peril
We must defend it with all our might
Protect what’s ours by right
The right to grow love
Not nuclear third arms
The right to be known as a people
Of bravery and longevity
Not platitudes and brevity
We have the duty to remember that we
Are the True North Strong AND FREE
Oh Canada
Your People Stand on Guard For THEE
~
NM
07/01/17

By: Cedric McClester

Mad Dog Mattis must have
Caught distemper
He bit Donald Trump
Who began to whimper,
“The Mad Dog isn’t **** anyway,”
But that wasn’t what he was saying
Just the other day
When Mad Dog was thought to be  a-okay

Mad Dog Mattis Called
The Donald a bean sprout
For threatening American citizens
With going the military route
And taking a photo op
After prancing about
While the peaceful demonstrators
Washed the teargas out

Mad Dog Mattis called Trump
A clear and present danger
To all America stands for
And what’s even stranger
Trump held the Bible up as some kind of  prop,
Upside down and backwards
Cuz he don’t know when to stop
If you’re out there listening, please call a cop!

Mad Dog Mattis had to hold
His peace,
When he worked for Donald
To say the very least
But now he’s free
To unleash his savage beast
And let us know how he feels
When his anger is released.









Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2020.  All rights reserved.

Backlit by flares and the fires of revolution
Amid the clouds of choking gas
You  wave your flag and raise your fist
And the voice that laughed with me these desolate months
Now screams a battle cry
For the oppressed and the wounded
The maimed and the dead

With the shields and batons between us
The barbed wire woven in congress
The choking teargas spewing out of the archfiend's mouth
And our vow of distance
Our hearts link arms
I raise my voice and with you
Stand at the barricades

Charm is deceptive
And beauty is fleeting
Though you abound in both
Your armor is adamantine
Your sword arm never tires
And your fire
Burns brightest of all

we spend the months staring out windows and looking at screens
people are dying in breathless silence, alone
black men are dying in the streets
I have always tried my best to be good to be the person who walked for those who couldn't
I've seen so much of the world but my world is small
and to give myself credit for showing up is like throwing a pebble onto a mountain
then walking away.
and when I walk the streets under the noon sun I have no fear
when the lights dim I may run and seek safety but I have safety waiting somewhere for me
I have the white aura, that card swipe that gets me home
and I have never known a fear of men like I have seen this year.
While I sit at home and pray for health for myself and for my family another three blocks down prays for the health and for the very life of her family
It has never been so hard to hang my head in shame and I have never been so tired of being confronted with a reality not my own
I try to fight for what I believe is right, knowing that I am what is wrong
learning that my fear of men in the dark, of mean looking down, and of society kicking me once again and again for being a strong girl is a legitimate fear.
but I do not fear life itself.
I have never been called to anything greater than good grades and friendship but this year I have been thrown in the water
water that tells me to stay safe, to not get sick and not to overwhelm the hospitals and that there is no ventilator for me.
the water runs cold with anxiety, fear, depression, and fatigue but it runs hot with riots and calls to justice and people exhausted from seeking safety. always.
in the many sleepless nights my eyes wander to the skies where the winds whisper, 'are you doing enough?' the earth coughs and the stars are six feet or six thousand miles away, and ocean away.
I am still figuring out what all this means, what I will inherit, what I will find to ****** my helping hand into.
we are all so tired but we are all so brave and we who have held our heads up and fought this year should be proud. What began with fireworks and glittering champagne glasses descended into coughing and disease, into peaceful protests bombed with teargas and rubber bullets, into fire tearing through forests and families torn apart, into insurrection and bleak holidays in front of screens.
we have learned so much and tried our best even when sometimes our best was not enough.
when we saw others drop the weight from their shoulders, we picked it up and carried it for them.
through the tears and the struggles and the senseless yelling projected into our ears, we lifted ourselves off the ground every day to face the new fight, though fresh bruises and cuts stung us.
our fight is not over yet, but we stand now at the mountaintop looking down
down at what lies ahead of us should we choose to continue
and walk on through the pain
and be brave
for those who never made it

Life is a life
Driving home I nearly hit a rabbit
braked hard and the can of lager fell out of my hand.
We country folk drinks a lot; the police never stop you
unless you drive off the road and plough into a flock of sheep
then you are fined, and the police take the carcass home
dinner, for a big family.
So who am I sentimental over a rabbit when
there are chemical attacks on children in Syria,
and the war of attrition never ends
by courtesy of those who do not want peace there.
How am I sentimental when children are killed?
In Gaza children wounded by teargas have damages lungs
who am I to talk when witnessing the ****** of a people?
That demands to be free of Israeli tyranny.
But deep in my heart if I were hungry enough, I would
have killed that rabbit taken it home and cooked it.
So what this makes me? A sentimental fool crying
over spilt life? Deaths for a higher political cause
like stealing land from the losers.

Help!
Please I
Cannot breathe the
Smoke of  brutality chokes my
Lungs!


Help!
Please I
Cannot breathe the
Stench of hate is
Overwhelming!


Help!
Please I
Cannot breathe the
Teargas of veto power is
Choking me out!


Help!
Please I
Cannot breathe, l
Presume I was human
Yet I gasp for the
Breathe of human empathy.

You may attempt to silence our voices
and break us down with your inhumane
regulations, your crazy contemplation's,
your machine guns and teargas, but we
will never back down from you.  We are
a powerful black race that can’t be stopped.
We will always march down the endless
streets preaching for freedom, shouting out
“Black Lives Matter” and “No Justice, No Peace.”
We will light up the night with our blazing
fire shining bright in our souls, protesting
against the biased laws of society, exercising
our rights as we hold our signs high in the air,
standing tall and strong, our hearts in harmony,
fighting for the cause.  We will always stand
for all the ones whose lives were taken too soon,
stripped away by malevolent police officers
and court systems.