(for Jim LaClair)
Choking on the ashes of my dreams
They crucified a crow two thousand years ago
It was spoken and then it bled.
It was written and then it burned.
Does this civilization deserve any better than what it’s getting
When up is down and down is up and I really don’t feel like lying
Any longer about the state of things or why a fall from grace can be
So damn appealing.
She is gonna take a bite out of the big apple and I,
Well I feel like some kind of sewer rat hell bent on
Self discovery through the denial of One and maybe
The healing has begun or maybe just maybe we must
Wait patiently for another two thousand years but
I’ll tell you this; my Chosen status will sustain me for only so long.
Choking on the dust from dreams not yet dreamt
And I didn’t step out in front of that truck; no that would have been
A waste of both my time and my energy.
Charles Cicirella
May 15, 2008
12:20 PM
Dust Up (2)
(for Jim & Jacki LaClair)
Burn baby burn
Don’t forget nor forgive
Your origins and how far
You’ve come.
There was a burning bush
And water that was turned
Into wine and there is a Father,
And a Son and a Holy Ghost
And you needn’t ask any questions
Because the answers have all been
Vetted and shot into our veins like
Stardust.
You were there when the world began
A teacher teaching that a breath of life
Can and does make all of the difference
And you must meet your maker more than
Halfway if you really want to see a return
On your investment.
I remember falling in love for the first time
And how weightless she was; yes I recall
Holding her hand when romance was still in
Vogue and selling your soul was not so easily
done.
Learn baby learn
How worthwhile it is
To build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung.
Charles Cicirella
May 16, 2008
12:33 AM
Dust Up (3)
(for Lisa)
Fire not water next time
My dreams are coming back to haunt me
Telling me of things to come and how
We must be prepared to fight our stereotypes
And lay down our guns.
The writing has been on the wall since before many of us
Were born or for that matter born again and a child will
Lead us and maybe her name will be Joan or Mary or
Rose; all I know for sure the status quo and all of its excuses
Is not getting any easier to accept or ignore and at some point
A minority must raise its voice saying once and for all enough
Is enough; we’re not going to take it anymore.
I remember the very first time I ate crow and how it tasted
Nothing like chicken. I remember the first time I held you
In my arms and how it felt like for the first time in my life
I was doing something right.
Charles Cicirella
May 16, 2008
7:08 PM
Romance Not Ridicule This Time
(for Lisa)
Need to move on
Something I’ve never been very good at
Or quite understood.
Too often for me unrequited love
Is like a ghost beckoning me to the edge
And that time we were at Bob’s Big Boy
And I refused to smile what was I thinking
And why was it so hard for me to be human.
I know I need to stop thinking about you
But I wont do it, rather keep myself holed up
In this juke joint of spirit and unconditional surrender,
Rather travel on this highway of unperturbed silence
Where the hum of the Greyhound’s wheels puts me down
Like a rifle once welcomed Old Yeller to slumber.
Need to move on down the road apiece
Where the faces are not so easily reconciled
And the songs on the radio come gently into my mind
Like a cool hissing summer rain and our outlaw status
Ceases and desists from breaking our hearts again.
Charles Cicirella
May 17, 2008
11:47 PM
Rainbow Pie
(for Townes)
I write what I feel
Sometimes black
Other times white
Oftentimes in between.
How does it feel to be at the top of your game;
To be so high you don’t even know what low feels like
And you never entertain conspiracy theories because
The left has always let you down someway, somehow.
I write what I experience
Sometimes hard
Other times soft
Oftentimes in between.
And I remember when we were in the womb together
Getting all squishy as we hung out learning our trade
Never not once looking back; yes I recall how divided I was
When you were delivered first, knowing I would not see you again
For a very long time.
Are either one of us truly the Son of Man and does any of this
Even matter when we’re at opposite ends of the spectrum
And daydreaming is too often frowned upon.
I do not write slight of hand.
Charles Cicirella
May 18, 2008
12:32 PM
