Monday, June 19, 2017

Dizzying Beatific Circles (For Lambryah)

I wanna hold your hand
Like in the Beatles song
Lots of fizz, no pop

We stand together
Or we stand divided
Either way the sands of time will grind us into dust

Poetry is my savior
Like a jail sentence gone awry
Jewish is the new orange if you’re into that sort of thing

And there’s nothing wrong with religion
If you’re incapable of thinking for yourself
Believing in oneself is never overrated nor overestimated

I wanna hold your gland
Just kidding or am I?
Sometimes the sillies get the best of my serious deportment

We built a fort from episodes of Bob’s Burgers, apple juice and pretzel rods
Blew each other’s minds by being good to one another and never letting up on the throttle
Our intensities joined forces and whittled away the boredom and recklessness of a lifetime wasted on staying wasted and forestalling the inevitable

Charles Cicirella

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Point of No Return

Wanted to stick it inside of you, but wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that
My words come back to me in waves of mediocrity and I’m reminded of Paul Simon and how he’s now retired from the music business
Sometimes I am a parser of words, other times I’m just Charlie and that’s okay too

We break new ground when we step outside of our steam-shovel-heads and stop cowering in our comfort zones of disuse and unrhymed panty heists
I was writing about my bathroom habits when I was twenty six and very little has changed twenty plus years later
No one much pays attention, but that’s par for the course when celebrity is neither your forte nor your expressed goal

I wanted to take a tour of America, but decided I’d wait till the orange pig currently in the White House was either driven from office or tied to the mast and dumped in the sea
Welcome to the perfect storm that’s now the United States of Misery where white people prove yet again how ineffectual they can be when they’re thinking only of themselves and the hemorrhoids resting atop their slouching shoulders
I’ve been a pissant since the day I was born and that’s alright because contemptible people are oftentimes the only ones actually speaking truth to power

Wanted to call you on the phone, but decided there was no point when we were already sitting across from one another
You bit into that corned beef sandwich like it was the best thing you’ve ever had in your mouth and it made me jealous and it made me want you even more
I will always tell the truth whether under oath or not. That’s just the way I’ve always rolled and that will never change because truth will not fail you nor will it take you for a ride.

Charles Cicirella

Sunday, June 11, 2017


Nothing could be further from the truth.
You’re as guilty as Adam and Eve when they disobeyed their Father’s one command.
You think you’re pulling the wool over our sheep-led-to-slaughter-eyes and that’s simply not the case.

You were elected President by a ghost in the machine and were and will never be popular with the people.
“You’re fired” drips from your rectum-piehole like bile from Linda Blair’s possessed mouth.
A rancid opportunist obstructing justice with the small hands of a filthy priest.

Now you want us to believe you when and if you testify under oath and all I can say to that is give me a fucking break.
When’s the last time you actually told the truth? Was it when you swore you didn’t rape Ivana? Or perhaps it was when you feigned ignorance to the disappearance of Maria.
You and your pampered, entitled family of halfwits are holding a gun to the head of America and doing your damndest to wrestle us into the muck. You will not win.

Charles Eric Cicirella

Monday, June 05, 2017

People can snap apart like twigs. (For Chris Cornell)

People can snap apart like twigs
It’s the way the cookie crumbles
The way the starartist dies, alone in a hotel room in Detroit

People’s voices no longer reached him
He was floating out in space with no anchor to remind him of his frailties
It sucks when all the air is sucked from your body and your consciousness caves in on itself like a condemned building or hostile takeover

We mustn’t forget we’re human to a fault and when that fault’s disconnected all hell can and will break loose
In the eye of the storm don’t forget to look up for Heavenly Aid because looking within doesn’t always do the trick
What if he woke up in the middle of a night terror and realized he was the enemy he’d been sleeping with this entire time?

People can break apart too easily in a perfect storm
Thunder and lightning the pyrotechnics we desire to separate us from the other animals in this suburban jungle of waste and squalor
Even superstars get tired and need to come down from the day to day and sometimes the only way to do that is by altogether removing themselves from the game

Charles Cicirella

Friday, May 26, 2017

Rattling (For Lambryah)

Rattling these chains
Nothing up my sleeves
I’m not a magician or a misanthrope and neither are you

Smell the flowers on the way to the cemetery
Don’t forget to bend down and inhale the pollen inside your audaciously cute and passionately perfect nose
I know I was here before, but that was another age when we were both in different places and the masks we may have worn hadn’t been sanded down yet by the clock and a refusal to ever grow up

Emancipation is key in these Abraham Lincoln times when nothing is what it seems and too few speak from the heart
I was out on the outskirts of town looking at an erupting volcano or two when you came upon me like a rolling roller-skate or slice of pizza topped with veggies and extra cheese
Always had a problem hanging on too tight. I believe it goes back to abandonment issues when I was a kid and the time I was sick in bed and left to my own devices with a bowl of lukewarm chicken noodle soup and a remote in need of fresh batteries

I don’t desire to own you or possess you in the least little bit
Just love when we spend time together be it on the phone or I hope soon in person
I know we’ll both be nervous, but nerves can be our friend if we just put our heads down and do the work

It’s probably true that I’m more into you than you are into me
Just look at you all hot and spicy and ready to take a good pounding
Me, yes I guess it’s true I am a cool, old dude and I know you said that with a smile on your profound lips and a twinkle in your revolving door eyes

Charles Cicirella

Tuesday, May 02, 2017

Debris (For Shiloh)

Lost out here
Amid the bubblegum wrappers and improvised explosive devices
Since 911 it’s been our world because the terrorists won the very second we gave into fear

I’m not debating this
I have no conspiracy theories to offer
I just know things have changed as even Canadians now lock their front doors and grizzly bears find themselves carrying a concealed weapon

Hoping Shiloh will teach me what it means to be genderfluid because I believe even this old dog can learn a few new tricks
I don’t mean to say that genderfluidity is a trick and I hope you’ll accept my apology for my rough edges and the non-specific insults I toss out like baseballs at a home opener or meatballs rolling up another Sisyphus steep incline

Found somewhere out in left field
Discovered amidst the constipated intestines of another puffy rock and roller hell-bent to live a clean life as their opioid addiction ends up stopping them in their purple tracks
Elvis was no better as he sought absolution from one more crooked politician as he went off the reservation and his handlers continued spoon feeding him the obfuscated truth

I’ve fallen in love so many times with the idea of falling in love I’ve lost count
The streak of possessiveness I lay down on this hyperbolic highway creates only misfortune and collateral damage where once only chutes and ladders existed
I’m not much good to anyone and I am starting to question just what good all of this poetry will prove to be as I die with no one left to visit my grave

Charles Cicirella

Thursday, April 13, 2017

I may be silent, but that hardly means I’m any less smitten with Katie Boyd.

Just because I haven’t written a poem for Katie in a while doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about her or that I’m any less in love with her.
I’ve been warm for her form and intoxicated by her whirling dervish mind ever since the world crawled from God’s cold, dead hands and became its own force to be reckoned with.
Evolution is but a cliff note and if you don’t believe me just ask Charlie once he’s done playing with his tortoises and hanging out with Snoopy and Woodstock.

Look I hardly know what I’m going on about and that’s all on account of Katie Boyd and how she affects my mind.
It’s as if I’m drunk and I hardly even had a sip of wine. In fact I’ve been drinking diet grape juice all night and haven’t smoked any pot in far too long a time.
She’s the girl next door I always wanted to get to know, but was too afraid to approach because I figured she was way too cool for the boring and trying likes of me.

I’ve been a wallflower long before wallflowers came into vogue and I don’t expect to bloom anytime soon even though I’m nearly fifty years old and being an adult is something I should have committed to a long time ago.
I don’t have any blueprint and perhaps that’s the issue at hand because I never plan for anything and when it comes to preventative medicine I’ve always opted for less pills and more prayer.
Her inquisitive eyes and winsome sighs brought me to this jumping off place where the rubber meets the road and the hopeless romantics either get with the program or end up left out in the cold.

Charles Cicirella

Calling Out to You from the Darkness

It’s both dark and light here.
The light takes on the characteristics of the dark and vice versa.
It’s the way things have been since God created Man and Man turned his back on the Son.

We resist what we do not understand and in due time that’s all we’ll have left as another Passion Play is written in blood and our hands are washed in chlorine gas and sniper fire.
There’s no good reason to fight against the ghosts in the machine except that the ghosts today are not the same ghosts from yesterday and when you say Macbeth in a theatre you best be ready for the roof to collapse in on you.
I was just a lonely stagehand when I spied you up on that stage like a nightingale or resistance fighter. The way you carry yourself will forever impress and impregnate the situation with opened ended questions and mixed signals.

I desire to make love to you in the backlot of some nightscape we both know we’ll never escape from.
As I enter you from behind and you moan in ecstasy everything will be as it should be until it’s not and we’re blindfolded and executed for crimes against our vaulted psyches.
You’re the one I always imagined would come to me in the middle of my most prosaic and profound of night terrors. I was covered in sweat and all you were draped in was a towel and your very hot and rhapsodic skin.

The darkness got in my eyes before I attempted to kiss your mouth one final time before the curtain came down and another government is driven from power.
Don’t you believe it when they report on how smooth a transition is going when nothing could be further from the truth and our fractured Democracy is down for a very long and tortuous count?
I’ll never forget when you asked me to lick you from the inside out and how the noises you made reminded me of when I was in the womb and taking cover was the only option left to reexamine.
You’re a child of God and together we make up a divinity both divine and claustrophobic in its unintended consequences and lost horizons. And I’ll love you until the end of time.

Charles Cicirella