The scientist-psychiatrist
the psychologic sociologist
has proved with his statistics
and his data-riddled literates
that nothing will be crippled
if they sweep the city clean
if they slay not only Tybalt
but the whole Verona scene
so they ****** it from our hands
from our brains and those to come
as the Ravens sear across the lands
and bindings come undone
They watch the pages flitter by
and cackle with delight
as the populace of fiction
by their hands is ripped alight
The licking of the laces
by the hungry tongues of flame
will ravage on the characters
you've come to know by name
Montag barrels forth and finds
the Fahrenheit has risen
Hester screams and claws her mind
out of this hellish prison
and Dorian will clamber up
to sit atop the pile
and weep for Pictures yet to sup
upon his looks and guile
And you'll watch as they obliterate
the city from within
de-storying our Paradise
so it won't be Lost again.
But I, Calpurnia? I warned you
that the fiery clouds would rain
I told you all, fictitious youth,
but you called me insane.

Drinking *** to reminisce about fun times drinking *** and talking about dumb lines where a sociologist posed as an astronomer and took the moniker to heart claiming forbidden foolish nonsense of black holes and super novas and the Goddess that is Neptune. But he also forbade the odes of the old testament, he nicked the hold on my head and soul and feet until I couldn’t walk because I was too busy kicking my *** and licking my teeth with thoughts of dinner stolen from the solemn souls in the coral reefs – those that Neptune created and nurtured with nursing fingers and eyes that hid cruel truth from the water, the creatures that didn’t suffer the bite that God’s daughter took so long ago, but the flow of the current never ceases it never reaches the bleeding feet connecting repeatedly with the bottom that serves me to sit and think or **** about the gospel spilling from the hostel of the professor’s mouth. And I doubt the drought that lifted my spirits out of the well with the spout of Neptune’s *****. These days I’m on it with a sense of self-flagellation that only makes sense in the dimension of my imagination pondering the nation of the brotherhood of stars and heavenly bodies that weigh so heavy on Mars with the clingy core dragging desperate attention from divine inventions of intervention with rats and cradles. Neptune, who’s cradled in fables and left to such imaginations as those. Invention allows the suspension of disbelief and spite if one might rest in humility in face of such things as humanity where miracles are mistreated and under-recognized and falsely advertised as products of greedy eyes that lie in wait to shake the foundation and tune it to the stellar station or broadcast populated by the whispers of holy apparitions misconstrued as static.
Jacob is the heathen with reason to grasp his brother’s heel and deceive him. The treason to sit up to stand down to kiss the hem of the gown of whatever clown performs a pretty act while he’s in town. The frowns expound and expand for the man whose body spans the sand of the holy land.

Today, we live in a world bound together by a plethora of interlocking mechanisms and systems, some social/political, and a great many technological, but most remain economic(for reasons of simple profit and pragmatism). In a time where the rate at which new technologies are developed is being reduced by a specific ratio in relation to the complexity and modernization of the societies in which they are developed, and the impact they have on said societies can be measured to a certain degree, it is a wonder to me that human beings have not applied our gifts of invention and improvisation to other parts of our existence.
I'm not a psychologist or sociologist or anthropologist, therefore I don't want to seem as if I'm attaching weight to any of my conclusions or opinions. I'm simply trying to put down in words a condensed version of many hours worth of contemplation and conversation. That being said, it seems almost as if the further we advance into the unknown future, technologically and scientifically, we further ourselves somewhat from many of the facets of existence that can be said to make us human beings. While the limits of understanding are being extended in laboratories and universities the world over, and the fruits of the endeavor trickle down to us in the way of items such as smart phones with more computing power than a room sized processor from 1970, our social structure has not progressed at a similar rate. While back breaking poverty and oppression on the feudal level aren't daily facts of life for the vast majority of us in developed industrialized society, modern existence has created it's own demons in the demand for limitless profits in an economy(no matter how much of it is superficially called "Service industry") which is based upon finite means of production, whether they be labour or resource based. This is not what concerns me, most of the time, anyway it **** sure doesn't keep me up at night. What does keep me awake till dawn are the deeply personal experiences that have brought me to see the extremes of human suffering, the kind of suffering which is marginalized and ignored because it has no place in our 'civilized' status quo. I will say bluntly that those who do the marginalizing have never carried their friend away from a house party after she was *****, never set their shirt on fire in the middle of the street because it had ***** from the ****** on it, never bandaged the self-inflicted wounds of another (and wiped off the word '****' which she had written on herself in her own blood), nor seen a thousand year old village obliterated in about 3 seconds, never seen what kind of horror people have the capacity to inflict on each other....as I have. There are many of us who have experienced these things, many who have experienced far worse, and to them I offer my deepest respect and compassion.
The realm of the human heart is the same landscape our forefathers journeyed through in the age of Richard Couer de Lion, the questions many of us ask are the same as well. But there is a difference, and it isn't technological. The serf toiling in the dirt of medieval France had no separation between himself and the land he worked, and to a similar extant, the modern Afghani sees no separation between himself and the will of Allah, which is what binds his entire universe together. Only we here in the First World have been abstracted into units of economic output, reduced to numbers and symbols, and only we no longer know what our place in the world is, or how we relate to each other. I want to know why.

I lost dignity trying to fit a culture's mold, I lost self-respect in my rebellion. Trying to fit the "look," looking foolish in my efforts to look cool and have a hard grace. I preserved the made up martyr in me in an effort to feel sane. I gave into temptation from tormentors and deadly weapons--all for a sense, a sojourn, into a limpid environment. I was proselytized into believing the hype of "this will take your stress away."
Delusional.
Leaving the land
to indulgence in the mud.
A self-proclaimed sociologist in a lions den
that was filled with sheep--
becoming intangible in  obsequiousness to the slow-moving beat of the followers.

By: Cedric McClester

As things return back to the norm
And we all vow to seek reform
We experience the quiet after the storm
Which makes us feel secure and warm
How can we expect different results
When we haven’t learned the ins and outs
Of the social conditions that brings about
Us traveling down the same route

Insanity I’ve heard people say
Is repeating your mistakes the same old way
And expecting the results to be different okay
Doing the same old **** on a different day
History exists so we can learn
If the pages of the books ever get turned
Then our present and our future wouldn’t be burned
Are we stuck in the communities that we’ve earned

This is not just criticism it’s introspection
Cos I feel that we’re headed in the wrong direction
And we’re in need of an immediate correction
Not for their benefit, but for our own protection
More than one road may lead to Rome
But we can’t fiddle while we lose all we own
Where we gonna live, in the Twilight Zone
After all the Molotof Cocktails get thrown

I’m not a sociologist merely a pundit
But the evidence that I cite is abundant
And I’m saying this at the risk of being redundant
I can hear you hiss knowing that this might be repugnant
If it serves a purpose and that purpose is to provoke
Then perhaps at last we can remove the yoke
Of abandoned all civility of going for broke
Once everything settles including the smoke



© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.

Fr. Greeley was really unique
Novelist, sociologist, columnist
Never seen another priest like him
Chicago. Tough Chicago.

I can't believe in life after death
But I remember Fr. Greeley
Beggar Girl of St. Germain
Juliet not Iago

                      hope!

The reason Irish peasants made love in the open fields under the white light of the full moon after the wakes of their loved ones is because they were saying *******!
to Death itself.

                          - Andrew Greeley
                               my teacher
                               sociologist
                                 novelist
                                Bulls fan
                                Bears fan
                                Cubs fan
     ******* loudmouth shanty Irish priest

The Dead The Dead The Dead The Dead
The Dead The Dead The Dead The Dead
The Dead The Dead The Dead The Dead
The Dead The Dead The Dead The Dead
The Dead The Dead The Dead English,
Ancient Greek, which is the Russian
salt of 6 dwarf acid, sulfuric acid.
Answer: It should not be, it's meat
and wine for them, or the wine of the
morning, the white wine. In the United
States, a father and son were born
in Italy, and elsewhere, and in many
countries and gardens. Often the tower
is located in Ethiopia. China, with
a local disruptive player and controversial
game against the European football team,
has the ability to identify their faults.
Wei is a great personal trainer, professional,
professional, sweeping, fishing, passionate,
smoker, and a smoker. A car and
a white window for Keiko's emissaries.
On the moon, the sun, the sun, the sun,
the sun, the small stand and a big football.
The son loves him. 1 best in the Middle
East loves light. In the past, the Babylonians
said they would listen to audiovisual
equipment when they stopped learning
from Japan. You can determine the price
list of the Alkaline group. . . It was he
who sauntereth away from him. Check,
the loss of ***** and the party's party
are always self-assured. White on mars,
and other women: not only in the White
House, however, with a few moments,
night, night, all night, and the principle
of Africa, the young, desperately light
nights beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
white is a beautiful story of Black civilization,
And the martial arts in the animal world,
immorality, the yyturoki beach of Russia.
The Greek man is considering the story
of humor, and the anticipation of "aketitiriviv":
the colors look like the father of his children
and the father of his father. Categories
(BEC), in Spain's corner. 1 Football
and Soccer Football! William Lewis Vuitton,
William, We are confident in controlling
the computer, but it is a story about
the history of civil rights - Chinese users,
modules and cousin ​​hunter's wife, Bob,
batteries in Europe, India, "nightmares"
at Microsoft. For the first time in the Earth's
humble Earth Council, he gave a work:
it was in vain for the HRA to lead
to the edge of the horn. Thanks for all
of these conversations. By the wisdom
of their souls, by the spirit and by
distress. There is no such thing
as a "cynical sociologist", a popular
Yochi fan, and there is a Jewish
university in the area of ​​Michael
Gillon Gill, USA / America Awards
Popular Yoga in Europe, Germany,
Asia, the United States, and Rome,
Juan Vahashi.