Everything
is broken or breaking apart or disassembled and begging to be put back together
again.
And
the slow train has run off the track and the quiet man has died a loud and
undignified death.
And
I’m waiting for the caliber less words to arrive and for you to call so I can
finally check out.
Another
blues song up around the bend as the cowboy horizon nips at our Italian heels
and we pray to a Hebrew God.
And
all of this hate in the world is turning me off in a big way as one conspiracy
theory after the next backfires and we drop to the floor like another innocent
chalk outline.
You
want to know what’s wrong. I’ll tell you. It’s these paid suits making endless
lists and passing the buck to a dead pool of bean counters and faceless
assassins who carry out their orders in blind allegiance and constipated
patriotism.
We’ve
killed our spirit by pretending we give a shit when nothing could be further
from the truth.
We
slaughtered the Indians in the name of God only knows what because I guess the
white man is entitled to whatever he wants as long as his guns are loaded and
his conscience is an empty void.
Thinking
about Jonestown and how mothers administered the poison to their babies using
eyedroppers. Thinking how so little has changed today as we feed our young
violence and hatred through radicalized screens and don’t even give it a second
thought.
Charles Cicirella
6/15/16
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