Thursday, March 15, 2018

I Want You (Strange Happenings) (For Emily)

Want to write a poem for you
I hope I can pull it off
Like burning off leeches or watching The African Queen under the influence of granola

She was something special
Asked me to dance when no one else wanted anything to do with me
It was probably the only Winnie Cooper moment I’ll ever have in this one life

Let’s trade punches or kisses as In Through The Out Door plays in endless rotation like the Earth rotates around the sun
Newton had nothing on us except that he developed his theory of gravity while relying on the occult idea of action at a distance, across a vacuum, and did it while spitting in no one’s eye
Let’s face it compared to Sir Isaac we’re fucking losers or worse yet, Republicans

Want to spy you naked as I attempt to scale the trestle beneath your imaginary window
I’m not a stalker or a stuntman just a loathsome poet who never thought Corey Feldman was much of an actor even when he was oddly in vogue in the eighties
Bring back the firing squad, a cigarette and blindfold and maybe then I’ll die for this over extended country of haves and have s’mores  

Emily is an actress and an improviser of ferocious skill and wit
Someone who can trip the light fandango without even moving her pinky finger
Canada called and wants to wish us luck before they turn their enlightened backs on our divided states of amnesia

Charles Cicirella

Friday, March 09, 2018

Little Girl Blue (For Laura Mvula)

Piano keys undress you
Suspense heightened when you smile
Lost in your elegiac escapades

Don’t wish to rely upon comfort for this poem
These words must be born from a volcano
Your sound nothing pedestrian, thank God for that

We stir in everything and anything we can think of
The kitchen sink another tool instrumental in uncovering our histories
You came onto the scene already a legend, and nothing will stop you now

Let’s begin by forgetting our a,b,c's
Let’s begin by forsaking our Gods
Let’s begin by uncovering our mouths and speaking out against everything silencing us

There’s a racket in my soul that I hear every time I turn off the television in my mind
There’s a rebellious nature that mustn’t be squelched as you wake up and walk toward the sun
Saw, heard and felt you and know I’ll never be the same again.

Charles Cicirella

Bucket List

I want to be there in the morning with you when you put on antiperspirant
I want to be there when you’re sitting on the toilet with your A-frame tuchus looking into the void wondering what went right and what went wrong
Your lane’s the only one worth a damn in a world of shrinking dividends

The good days are when I remind myself I’m a working poet. The bad days advance like a silent thunder, never letting up on the gas or empty, lonesome prairies
Let’s fill the unwelcomed silences with trivia bowls and trivial, unthreatening sex
I stared hard into the crystal ball and saw only broken debutantes and French revolutions gone belly up

I wish to be there with you when you find out who your biological parents are
I desire to be present when you realize your taste in men isn’t as awful as you once believed it to be
I cannot get enough of you looking so deeply into my soul that the roots of all the best parts of me are no longer thirsty or in need of plastic drugs or plastic people

Charles Cicirella

Friday, February 23, 2018

Burnt Umber (For Tamara)

Cover the sky in smoky shyness
Walk by the water and drowned in another artist’s heavy words
One line at a time until you climb out of your madness like Spiderman

Stalled in the everyday desolation of evil flowers smelled and spat out
Normalcy coopted by orange greed and pistols popping no longer turns our stomachs
She was a good girl before she started shooting heroin into her apple pie veins

First worlds are all the shit until they’re not
Third worlds move up the ladder like a repairman on the take
I’m just another wanna be human desiring human companionship

Throw another Molotov cocktail into the unexamined crowd
Learn to do without oxygen as air pollution cleans all of our grandfather clocks
When she sat on my face and smiled I knew I could retire my bucket list for good

Uncover the hallowed ground and wish upon a heap of innocent starlings
Chase your blues away by opening the window and not jumping to your death
Let me come to you with only my words and I promise to keep you laughing

Charles Cicirella

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Peacefully Coexist

Watching Strange Weather and eating chocolate Oreos
I am waking up to the very real possibility I’m slipping away
The truth hits me likes waves upon the craggy rocks

I cannot escape these impenetrable feelings that I have wronged myself in some way
I stopped reading my horoscope because I was tired of the future staring me in the face
The pygmy goat across the hall kept me awake morning, noon and night with its crying

I treasured the time we spent together until our treasure chest became an albatross around both of our necks
I wore a big cross and traveled down south like a pseudo gentile in search of something concrete or at the very least solid enough to keep my monsters at bay
You wore a wig hat and acted all high and mighty like a servant of God or music critic

After licking the chocolate off my fingers I took a sip of root beer and turned down the thermostat
Let’s remember who we are and that when times are tough its best to hunker down like a reformed saint
Politicians can all bite me for how little civic duty any of them are actually feeling

We peacefully coexist or we don’t it’s just that simple once everything comes out in the wash
I trusted you until I noticed the knife you had so ruefully stuck in my back
What’s the point of holding a grudge when it will only make you weaker and more susceptible to further attacks?
This loneliness haunts me like a ghost with no recompense and I am starting to believe this human stain won’t dissipate no matter how much water I pour onto my raging inferno soul

Watching from across the room as I tear myself into the littlest pieces and parts
There’s no coming back from this permanent darkness not when your brain refuses to shutoff even for just an hour or two
Let’s cut the chitchat and stop pretending the investment we’ve made into each other wasn’t real or worth its weight in gold

Pick the words that best represent you and leave the rest to chance
Making it up while you go along is about the only life plan left that makes any sense
Turn down the heat and cool yourself off in the unbearable lightness of your own being

Charles Cicirella

Saturday, February 10, 2018

The Life and Times of a Beatnik

Desolation angels
Let’s take what’s left and try our best to keep it whole
Race across the country looking for your father
The Holy Ghost called and wants his martyr complex back

I was so bent out of shape I couldn’t get straight
All the country songs in the world won’t make me an alcoholic
I tried and I tried and still I did not fit in the skeleton keyhole
If you’re comfortable basking in someone else’s fifteen minutes there’s no hope for you

Doctor Sax
Sitting on the toilet writing your guts out while an exterminator looks for a clean needle
Living with your mother may not be all that, but when you’re cracking up it may be the very last safety net you have left
Streams of mediocrity wrap around my throat and silence my pangs for acceptance and alchemy

I desire to be free of all constraints, but I don’t wish to die if such a thing is even possible
I resist everything and everyone, but I have to admit waking up alone is getting old
I must pull my head out of my ass, but to do that I will need to discover some sunshine in my life pronto
Maybe I need to go to a library and get lost in the books before it’s too late

On the Road
When I was a kid I liked to go to 7-11 and eat a burrito on the wall outside the store
It made me feel like I was some kind of cool cat different than all the rest of the alley cats
Started to again buy frozen burritos and they do lend me some solace in these dark days
Woke up about an hour ago with that sinking feeling in my gut already taking hold

Charles Cicirella

Wednesday, February 07, 2018


Listening to Craig Firsdon read one of his poems
The last thing I remember is picking up black material from one of my socks
I’m alone ever since my mother passed away in October

I have no family to speak of
My friends are the only family I have and they’re all busy with their own families
Am I feeling sorry for myself? No, not really. It’s just the truth and the truth will either whip me into shape or retire me as I attempt breaking back into the human race

Craig lays it all down in the moment and I’m alone with his generous, genuine spirit
As I listen I’m reminded how it felt hearing Lincoln deliver the Gettysburg Address
Yes, I was there or I like to believe I was because when moments are marked in blood we must push through history and relive the very best parts of our future and past selves

The porn does only so much and the art fills in quite a bit, but there is still something I’m missing as I look back and see only one set of footprints in the embryonic snow
Maybe God was carrying me or maybe just maybe I’ll forever be lost in this empty space
The grieving process takes time like standing in line at the airport or sinking your teeth into a juicy steak

Charles Cicirella

Sunday, February 04, 2018

I Woke Up Screaming

Woke up screaming
Nobody gives a shit
You’re told to reach out if you’re feeling bad,
But what good does it do if no one picks up the phone?

I’m lost in the narcissistic membranes of synapses that pay me no mind
The only thing that has ever made one iota of sense to me is the art and the art never fails me even when I fail myself
I woke up screaming like a Barbie with no head and whose Dreamhouse is under water
It’s like I hardly exist or I exist, but only to myself behind shutters the color of coal dust

Skate on the frozen ice and pray it does not crack and swallow you whole
I’ve always believed I was brilliant, but that does not feed nor clothe me no matter how generous my daydreams are
She told me she heard my message, but that she was going through her own depression and calling would not be possible at this time
I understand we have to be our biggest champions, but sometimes self-love just ain’t enough in these claustrophobic days and nights of continual terror

Woke up wishing I were dead
Woke up with ice water in my veins
Woke up feeling like I had swallowed Charlie Brown, the football and Schroeder’s piano
Woke up and texted a friend and that only made me feel worse

I am tired of being the only one there for myself
I had a dog when I was fourteen and didn’t fully appreciate him
I’ve done things my way for as long as I can remember and it hasn’t helped me one bit
I need a change of scenery, but don’t drive so I’ll exist behind these canvas curtains and pray God hasn’t completely forgotten about me

Charles Cicirella