Coffee good
Poetry gone
Another mass shooting, more empty words
Chaos washes over me like orange marmalade
When I was a kid I read Paddington because I too felt like an orphan
These days I do my best to keep my head down, I’m Jewish and have a target on my back
Persecution is never the game I play
Unless it has to do with nailing myself to a crossbow like Robin Hood
Religion another loaded chamber filled with bullets and searing reprisals
After centuries of beachcombing the human condition finally became inhumane
Even poets have a red line or red lion depending on the zoo they frequently visit
Word on the street is he reeks of ketchup, BO and ass and I believe it.
Charles Cicirella
1/5/2024
