So
much silence my brain is doing back flips of delirium and frustrated exhaustion
Bad
actors taking to the road pretending they’re poets when in actuality sixties Lost In Space episodes are better
executed
Never
forget first time I ate sushi off her exposed belly and how her taint reminded
me of swollen sunsets and a Japanese moon
Our
country has gone to hell in a Dorothy Gale hand basket as Malcolm Nance offers
up a grin telling us he knows way more than he’s letting on because as super
spies go he was as super as they come
It
used to be the Republicans would just drive us into a ditch, now they’re siding
with a KGB feckless thug because everyone wishes they’d been in The Sopranos and I cannot wait for the
first time Manafort is delivered to the showers with more than just a juicy
apple in his purty mouth
A
five hundred dollar haircut doesn’t imbue you with superpowers as Ron Burgundy
proves beyond the shadow of any doubt no matter how strange the bedfellows, the
Dragnet facts will always scare you
straight
I
carve these poems from catheter and calligraphy believing they’re all that
while the usual suspects stay silent because not only couldn’t their own poems
keep up they have nothing new to share as their muses stand down and their
disingenuous selves publish another Hot Pockets model’s confessions about doing
the dirty deed with a Catholic Priest or defrocked donkey
The
back surgery makes it quite difficult to fart and for shitting well let’s just
say I’ve never had less fun crouching like a miser picking up a tarnished penny
or an invisible child scraping by on booboos unkissed and unredeemed
The
world’s not impressed by my Edward
Scissorhands’ intellect and if things keep going the way they are before
you know it I’ll be lost at sea wearing a life jacket two sizes to small
capsized in a duck boat of my own flagrant and failing devising
Charles Cicirella
8/5/18
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