(For Ralph La Charity)
Checked
his ego at the door
Then
he got up on that stage
And
wailed like a saxophone
Knew
him in the nineties
When
we were both ancient and naked as the day we were born
Met
again on FB as we dodge bullets and pray we end up as more than just collateral
damage
I
believe we both found safe haven in the words because you can never count on a
sanctuary city with the clowns who are now running the asylum
They
screamed at us until they were red, white and blue in the face “You can’t
handle the truth” and we just laughed because we knew the truth was laughing at
them
Emptying
the dishwasher, mowing the lawn and taking out the garbage are chores I’ve
never enjoyed doing, but I’ll write a poem for you any day of the week and
thrice on Sundays
Check
your exalted and storm chasing attitude at the Pearly Gates and never forget
how St. Peter looked out for you when you went through the wrong doggy door and
ended up in Hell
Academic
poetry and sludge have more in common than any ivory-tower-tenured- professor will
ever know and it’s not actually even poetry if you take into account all of the
blood you’ll never be able to wash from your pugilist fists
We
must push each other just a little further down the road past the celebrity-ass-monkeys
who believe in reality TV Presidencies because their hedge-fund-guru told them
investing in apathy is a surefire way to become uber-wealthy and uber-ripped
I
do not believe in the religion of AR-15 rifles, but I am totally in agreement
with the guy who recently killed three teenagers when they broke into his home
wielding knives and brass knuckles
The
getaway driver fled and still she might be facing murder charges because that’s
just how Oklahoma rolls
Ralph
and I need to go on our own rampage and show the duplicitous masses just how
lethal words are when they’re shot from a mouth armed with nothing but the
First Amendment and a belief in oneself to always make a lasting impression.
Charles Cicirella
3/30/17
