“Visions of Johanna” (Take 5 (11/30/1965) rehearsal) Video, The Cutting Edge

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-11-15T14_34_54-08_00

It’s a deathblow. So much brute force, blood and her eyes without ideals or violence. I was watching the video – the first video of Bob’s I found myself consumed with like Alice in a roomful of mirrors. The video unfolds like a letter to Milena, a love letter to New York City in all its beatific loneliness and lovely grime, and let’s not forget America the depraved, unworthy and malignant. I am a majestic bald eagle emboldened by the genocides you propagate with just a wave of your invisible hand. It’s as if the nightingale code doesn’t mean a damn thing unless you’re willing to drink the Kool-Aid and go out of your ever loving and despised mind for centuries at a time. We were the new wave of huddled masses whose refugee status was long past its expiration date and still no one extended a helping hand or olive branch to rescue us from this morass, this Chinese finger trap we’ve been led to believe would ultimately save us or at the very least pacify us into some other kind of nonsensical existence. It’s a deathblow. A summation on all that is not quite right with this putrid world. So many ragged and dirty men, women and children whose integrity has been placed on the auction block because corporations are people don’t you know and gun rights are more important than a human being’s right to live. So get in line for your toilet paper, vitamin c and latest smartphone app before this shithouse goes up in neurotic and never ending flames of self-discovery and self-recrimination.

Charles Cicirella

11/2/15

Dopedom (For Tommy Jay)

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-11-13T16_24_56-08_00

The Dude quakes in Tommy’s most excellent Harrisburg shadow.

He takes rock ‘n’ roll down to the basement where it’s always thrived.

You never have to worry about standing on ceremony with Mr. Jones because pomp and circumstance is not programmed into his primordial code. He understands that to get from point A to point C you have to slog through point B and in this particular case B is for Bitch and Bastard.

I woke up in the midsts of a fever dream. I was in Key West seated at a round table covered in green felt. On my right was Peter Lorre. Next to Peter was Ernest Hemingway and next to Ernest was Tommy Jay. Papa’s eyes were already bloodshot and Tommy’s were not far behind.

No one pulls off a jogging suit like Mr. Jones, except maybe Elvis. There’s something to be said for a person who gets the true significance of being built for comfort, not speed.

I like knowing Tommy’s the one behind the drum set when I’m on stage because he knows precisely how to smash through my glass walls, dragging me onto that stage, kicking and screaming like an infant who doesn’t like hearing the word no.

Charles Cicirella

11/9/15

Because

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-11-12T01_50_05-08_00 

Because making a difference actually does mean something even if explaining it is easier said than done.

Because we can do more than just coexist. We can prosper and the greed and the gluttony and the outsourcing can end with a smile instead of a glower.

She said I was being snarky, passive aggressive, cranky and manipulative when nothing could have been further from the truth. When she texted I really was on the toilet with the squirts from something I’d eaten the night before and I’m still feeling crappy today.

Because we make better lovers than fighters and if you need proof just look in the mirror and be careful not to fall in love with your reflection like Narcissus did once upon a time.

Proving that believing in your own press can be more than fatal, it can be both infectious and insatiable like Salted Caramel Bourbon BonBons.

I’d make an example of myself, but what good would that do when I fall through every crack laid out before me like a child’s chalk drawn hopscotch course or the entrails from your favorite flattened roadkill.

Because sometimes just mouthing the words I love you is plenty good enough while other times even a Cheshire grin will not get you through the mirror.

I know I don’t belong and I don’t pride myself on that outsider status, but I’ve also started to understand sweating the small stuff will only you get you five to ten in the house of detention or if you’re even more unlucky nearly fifteen years of feeling stuck with no clue of how to break free and raise yourself from the dead.

I write these words and then if I’m really lucky Mr. Kane will ride in on his bay horse and lay down a riff that will fuse my words together and make this watch tick.

Because going it alone doesn’t make a lick of sense when you have a second pair of hands willing to pitch in and make the trains run on time.

Because “I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now I see.”

Because truth is stranger than fiction and once you have accepted that we can move on and find some peace in the arms of another Manchurian Candidate.

Charles Cicirella

11/8/15