The Real Terrorism

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-12-03T04_54_29-08_00

The real terrorism is homegrown.

The real terrorism is the distortion of The Second Amendment of the United States Constitution so that the NRA can sell guns to anyone regardless of how dangerous or mentally unstable they may be because money talks and money bleats and not a single one of us is safe until the adults push back on these assassins and stand up once and for all for sensible gun laws.

The real terrorism is selling the American people a bag of goods that no one is actually buying as another straw purchase goes undetected and another mass shooting is passed off as just another day in America the beautiful, America the bloody and profane.

The Republican thugs want us to wrap our heads around the insane notion that more not less guns will make us safer and that gun free zones are the real problem. When did the Wild West come back into vogue with such a vengeance and why would anyone ever need an AR-15 rifle to hunt or protect their family?

These illiterate redneck pieces of shit that tout The Second Amendment like a NASCAR racing flag really need to go back to school because what they believe this amendment states is in fact not what it says at all.

What it is actually talking about is a well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State so unless someone is threatening our State not every Tom, Dick and Jane should be able to so easily buy a firearm without sensible gun laws in place.

When the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting occurred and 20 children and 6 adult staff members were fatally shot you would have thought a developed country such as ours would have finally been shamed into doing the right thing and yet once again nothing of any real consequence was done and just yesterday another mass shooting has taken place and fourteen people were killed in San Bernardino, California.

You can try and make the argument that guns don’t kill people, people do, but I am no longer having this conversation because enough is beyond enough and the gun manufacturers need to be taken to task and if that means taking away the guns of even the sane, responsible people well so be it because something needs to change right now and all of this non-talk is only adding to the carnage and spilling of more blood.

Don’t lecture me on terrorism abroad when we have our very own “caliphate” right here in the land of the free and the home of the brave and the leader of this “caliph’s” name is Wayne LaPierre and he must be stopped at all costs.

Charles Cicirella

12/3/15

Blowing Up Your Mind

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-12-03T14_18_46-08_00

Words get stuck in my head like gum to the bottom of my shoe.

If I don’t write them down I’ll never shake them and they’ll continue to shake me.

The storm outside was fast approaching and I knew I would never outrun it so I did my best to hide away inside of my recurrent dreams and nightscapes.

I wish we were better friends, but how would that even work when we both have a fear of intimacy and don’t trust love to last.

For years I wondered why I wasn’t able to locate my soulmate then I began to understand until I like who I am, how is anyone else ever going to enjoy my company?

We start from scratch as we build relationships from stardust and sleep studies. Social networking is for the birds if all you ever want is to be left alone.

The writing on the wall proves nothing except that someone believed those cave drawings someday may actually prove beneficial or clandestine to another civilization that’s doing their damndest to stand on their own two feet.

I need to write what I’m feeling before everything is either lost in absentia or is eaten away by the plaque on my brain.

There’s a reckoning coming and I reckon we best all find shelter before the glaciers completely melt and intolerance rings our bell for the final time.

Charles Cicirella

12/2/15

Listening to the Rain (For Mikal)

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2015-12-02T02_49_32-08_00

Light the pipe.

Make the nausea go away.

I don’t believe in Sartre.

This is different than the fog of war.

I’ve lived in the trenches with guttersnipe and The Jabberwock.

My brain is on fire and thinking straight is a luxury I cannot afford.

When I was a child I dreamt of mythical figures.

When I became a man I put away childish things and picked up a quill pen.

When I met the one person who knew my mood simply by the tee-shirt I am wearing I knew I could slow down, take off my hat and stay a while.

Opened the patio door and allowed nature to wash over me like closed captioning from a very nurturing and compassionate God.

When I was six years old someone tried explaining the Golden Rule to me. Even at that early age I understood that the very notion of doing unto others as you’d have them do unto you is ingrained in every molecule of our DNA and no explanation was necessary.

Sometimes I dream I’m hanging out at the White Horse Tavern with Dylan Thomas. Which I’ve always found rather strange seeing how I don’t drink and Mr. Thomas isn’t really my cup of coffee when it comes to the company I keep.

We rounded the bend without excuses or loss of consciousness.

The kind of meddle I’m made of is no one’s Goddamn business.

I like the song “Tin Man” by America. Sometimes when I’m in the coffeeshop I’ll hear it playing over the speakers and before you know it I’m mouthing the words, “Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man that he didn't, didn't already have.”

Charles Cicirella

11/1/15