Monday, April 03, 2017

Thirteenth Poem (Personally I Believe the Unknown Is Blessed With Us)

Another poem
Another dig
Another Saturday spent wishing my daddy would take me for a bicycle ride

We love to feel left out
We love to feel the absence of love
We love to stop believing because with no belief the very real choice of disbelief can be left like roadkill in the middle of the dark end of the loosey goosey unpaved street

I loved when she’d surprise us with Long John Silvers
I loved the way her big ass looked in those grey sweatpants as she vacuumed and left nothing to chance
I’ll never forget when she shaved her pussy and I was convinced she’d done it for another guy. I of course blew it all out of proportion and lost any chance I had of again fucking her tight dictatorial irrelevance

Another dinosaur bone
Another excavation
Another poem I’ll bury in the backyard of this windswept mind

We plan for the disconnection of self from torrents of undignified, ill-equipped glory
We purge the contents of our stomachs believing whatever we ate an hour ago has only left us emptier and more uncertain of the unrested shadowy coon’s age dark
We build our hopes and dreams on Legos we never actually owned as the kid across the street takes his toys and goes home because you never played well with others

Another porno shot in poor light and poorer excuses for self-flagellation
Another worthwhile cause strung up by its hamstrings and left blistering in the unorthodox, nonredeemable sun
Another stab at pinning the tail on a donkey that brays for no reason other than it refuses to admit defeat and relishes both your attention and your unbridled enthusiasm.

Charles Cicirella

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