Fay Wray and King Kong (For K.)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2020-01-13T01_15_35-08_00

I’m Fay Wray

No wait, I’m King Kong

Ding dong Iggy Pop isn’t dead

And I want to eat a hamburger with him.

I want to move the Earth with you Kat

I believe it’s possible because my cup runneth over

As we stop revisiting our pasts because doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. I’ve been in love with you even before Little Richard got religion or the Holy Ghost recorded an album called Blonde on Blonde

It’s true I can kick the crap out of any blank page without even a second thought, but when it comes to looking you straight in your sock-monkey- almost eye saucers I feel as light as a baby Jesus and as bright as a phoenix burning up.

We shouldn’t be afraid of the skyscrapers or the black helicopters buzzing around like some angry drone bumblebee, as fat as Belushi when he was full of cocaine and despair

I just happened upon the word Weegie and I want to ask you about it, but don’t wish to offend

We come from two entirely different worlds and yet still share the same sun and moon.

I’m Fay Wray and I swallowed King Kong because I was hungry and also because he was just a big ham

You are the sun, moon and stars as you make my mind ice skate over a frozen lake of vipers and dung beetles

Imagining listening together to David Bowie as we live our dreams and our dreams possess us like a Southern Baptist preacher’s fire and brimstone sermons

“Wake up, you sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed. Wake up, the wicked witch is dead!”

Charles Cicirella

1/13/2020

Circus People

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2019-12-31T15_21_44-08_00

My friend Beth always asks me why I call us circus people.

I always answer that it’s quite obvious, but for Beth the obvious always eludes her like sympathy for a much maligned devil.

I’ve always felt the most at home on the Island of Misfit Toys because the lower your expectations are the more likely you are to dance successfully beneath the limbo stick.

My uncle Marc told me recently no one he asked had a single, good thing to say about me and my only response to that is consider the source and how you can never trust a racist especially one who throws their own people under the senior bus and then goes on their merry way.

All my life I’ve been misunderstood because I always call it exactly how I see it with no rose tinted lenses to obscure my view from the cheap seats.

My father once told me I was a survivor and I still hold so dearly onto those words because it’s the one and only time he actually was there for one of his children without first thinking of himself.

I’m Jewish and Sicilian which means I’ll kill you and then feel guilty about it later or even better make someone else feel guilty as I go out for New Year’s at any Chinese restaurant that will still have me.

Circus people are just like any other people on this planet meaning they wipe both their mouths and their asses before finally calling it quits and getting into the fetal position.

My dad has always had a thing for fruitcake and circus peanuts two things most people cannot abide and that’s okay because most people cannot stand me the first time they meet me until they realize I’m the only game in town and they best pony up before all the seats are sold and you’re left standing in a Roman Colosseum of your own meager devising.

Charles Cicirella

12/31/19

Velvet Glove (Count the Dead that Rise)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2019-12-31T01_28_49-08_00

We make pretty bombs to kill pretty people

We spill pretty lies to nullify petty grievances

It’s all for naught and to unstabilize our stable geniuses

The touch of your velvet glove creeps out a nation

The touch of your velvet glove lends us nothing, but acrimony

The taste of your poisonous lips paralyzes our unflappable resolve

Silencing the sheep shouldn’t be anyone’s prime or unprimed objective

We exist to be born and born again

Dying a cross we must bear like luxury and libations

We write pretty poems to heal the ugliness inside and outside

We withstand lies and treachery to save our fractured selves

We wrap ourselves in blanket assurances to ready ourselves for the fight of our atypical lives

The touch of your Velvet Elvis is music to my rock and roll ears

I promise not to step on your blue suede shoes

There are three words I will not utter until we’re prepared for sleep and sacrifice, in that order.

I miss you Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Charles Cicirella

12/31/19

As is

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2019-12-27T21_20_32-08_00

Broken and don’t remember how to cry

I hate memories that leave an aftertaste like diet soda

Fake chocolate was made by sadists whose own mothers didn’t love them

                                                  

We can agree to disagree or we can slink away in mutual bouts of shame and embarrassed tremors of whimsy as we sit on the pot and start peeing like a real goy

I remember the first time you uttered the words I love you and how it felt more like a question than a true declaration of love

I can’t climb the rope because my hands are made from ground beef

School always seemed like an enduring session of torture or dodgeball with the pent up nuns from across the courtyard

I know next to nothing makes sense to you when it comes to how I choose to express myself while I misremember my disemboweled past

All I know how to do is shout and that’s neither constructive nor destructive if you happen to be an anarchist

Unpaved like a road in need of immediate repair

Sometimes I feel like chucking it all in and doing my best to forgive and forget that I’m the chosen one

It’s a lot to lay on a person especially when that person already suffers from a Napoleon complex the size of the Northern Hemisphere

I’ve never seen myself as a person of short stature because I honestly don’t know what that means

You lost me when you pulled out a voodoo doll and started to look for any stray pins or needles

Fake people can choke on their fake words as they wait for their fake gods to deliver them from their fake hells on this here spoiled Earth.

Charles Cicirella

12/25/19

Blues for Samantha

Over thinking

Over under

Over you

Scrapping my expectations

Lowering the bar

Redesigning my first impressions

Overwhelmed

Over easy

Over you

Stand tall you statue

Sticks and raucous bones

Better to be a lover than a manipulator

Over the moon

Over exposed

Over you

Let’s change the song

Stop playing cat and mouse

We were created for a bigger mousetrap

Repeat first verse

Charles Cicirella

12/25/19