Caterpillar Astronaut

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-10-03T15_28_39-07_00

Headphones on.

“Tiger in My Tank.”

I’m restless.

Reservations prod me toward the edge of another Tomorrowland cliff.

You write poetry like its disco and it sickens me to my very core.

Squeeze the words out of your brain-tube and paint as thick as Vincent did when the muse was going down on him, but refused to let him finish.

I’m catatonic.

Patron saints like Walt Disney animals exist all around me speaking in their squeaky voices trying to get me to do things that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

I say let them build the Mosque next to the DQ / Orange Julius, next to the Elks Lodge, next to the Temple behind the car wash.

You’d think people who were religious would be the most tolerant when exactly the opposite proves to be the case.

Except for the temper tantrum Christ had over the money changers when he cleansed the Temple he appears to have been all about love and mercy and yet too many zealots are killing in his esteemed name.

I want to go the distance, but before I pledge allegiance to another flag draped in blood I want you to reassure me the Children’s Crusades are a thing of the past and you will not be aborting another fetus merely for sport.

Headphones on.

The Albino is making my ears bleed.

I’m sonorous and afraid you’re much too shallow for my erroneous tastes.

I will never forget that day at the roller skating rink when I thought it would be funny to hide Brenda Marcus’s wallet and all hell broke loose when it actually came up missing.

We’re all caterpillar astronauts in search of tang and freeze dried ice-cream to keep us happy and somewhat pacified.

He was a demon, but not a bad demon. In fact when it came to his demon exploits he only did good like so many civil rights leaders and Hells Angels profess doing.

Now grab hold of my horns because I am going to take you for the ride of your multifaceted lives and when we’re through running through the streets of Pamplona I promise to return you back to your sedentary and solitary life of Springsteen concerts and kale salads.

I’m just another mover and shaker stuck in the suburbs who has no one to blame but himself. And when you are through wringing out another filthy white or blue collar come join me on the upper deck before this Titanic ship starts to sink and the band begins to play “Autumn.”

Charles Cicirella

9/22/15 

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1 King James Version

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-10-01T00_04_18-07_00

Close your eyes.

Tell me what you don’t see.

It will be okay or it won’t. That’s not for us to say.

When is the last time you fell to your knees and prayed?

Do you remember the first time you asked for forgiveness and were washed clean of your sins?

There’s no more time for monkeying around. You’re either in or you’re out. That’s it. Game over.

We flaunt our excesses in plain view of God not caring that we’re repeat offenders and should be thankful for the life we’ve been given.

The Golden Calf’s got nothing on Jesus Christ Almighty and trust me when I say to you Noah was more than just some old Jew with a penchant for animals.

We must lift ourselves up from the muck and the mayhem and the wrecking ball nightmares that have kept us from peaceful slumber for most of our dilapidated and regifted lives.

Open your heart.

Tell me what you feel once you squeegee the tears and the blood from your rose tinted windshield.

It will be okay or it won’t. Who the fuck knows or cares when you’re down and out and nobody loves you and only God is willing to accept you into His House.

Charles Cicirella

9/28/15

Specimen under the Microscope

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-09-30T23_43_22-07_00

I lie to myself each and every moment of each and every day.

I do it because it’s easier than telling the truth.

Of course that could just be another lie.

I was watching TV and I heard the word cogitate.

I liked the sound of it even though I didn’t know what it meant.

I looked it up and then I carefully pondered why that word so strongly resonates for me.

We were once chimpanzees.

It strikes me as rather odd that there are so many people that refuse to even entertain the notion that this might be true.

I also find it ironic that the people who are having such a difficult time with the theory of evolution are the very same people who are in desperate need of evolving.

Just opened another poetry rejection email.

I had to fight myself from responding and telling these idiots just how wrong they are.

I know I can write and that I most definitely have something to say it just becomes increasingly frustrating when too few people actually want to read or hear my words.

I lie to myself with alarming frequency.

I believe it has something to do with denial feeling so damn good.

In fact I am starting to think not coming clean has become my favorite pastime.

I was watching TV. Actually it was Netflix, but what’s really the bloody difference these days?

It’s one of the few ways I find myself able to switch off my mind and take a much needed break from all of these thoughts racing around my jailhouse brain.

I was a bank robber and when we met you were a teller and liked the note I had written telling you this was a bank robbery. We’re all specimens under the microscope some of us just find the petri dish more comfortable than others.

Charles Cicirella

9/22/15