We
must write through the shit to get to the gold and then we must turn our backs
on the gold and believe that something even stronger will take hold
And
if you build it they will come and don’t worry who they are because they know
who you are and have been waiting a very long time to impress you with their
tactical precision and unholy ability to never stay dead for too long
The
words have existed before even God covered Eve and Adam with their very own fig
leaves
In
fact the words are the only hope that’s left in this tick tock world of fears
and phantom limbs
It’s
not a question if you have the talent because the creativity was born inside of
you long before the stork delivered you to your parents
Everyone
struggles with their words coming back to them in waves of mediocrity, but you
must never let that stop you from speaking the truth as you see it
We
must write through the shit and the shinola to get the upper hand and make an
honest to God difference before the lights go out and even our memories are
subject to reclassification
And
I have been struggling to properly remember my dreams, but I guess that makes
sense when I’ve always had a difficult time telling the difference between
dreams and reality
And
you have become a good friend even when we disagree because writers need to
stick together and that goes double for poets who always seem to get the short
end of the stick especially when the shithouse is burning down and poets are
the only ones able to see through the flames to the other side of morning
Charles Cicirella
6/1/16
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