Tuesday, September 07, 2010

The Poetry A Dried Up River

I am stagnant.

I repel inspiration.

The essence of simplicity is simply nowhere to be found.


Where was I when the waters withdrew?

I was sleeping under a bridge, choking on coal dust.

I was in the fetal position sucking on the teat of denial.

I was losing myself in battles my mind had already lost.


For days now I have had a poem on the tip of my fingers; this is not that poem.

For nights now I have pretended phone sex was a virtue and I was the most virtuous of all.

You may not believe in anything and that is okay because honestly who am I to care or for that matter to care about you?


I am starving for the crumb of a new thought or idea.

Inspiration and I only speak on a need to know basis.

The essence of simplicity like a blip on the radar screen is disappearing farther and farther out to sea.





biopunk said...

Charles, would you be the same Charles Cicirella that performed a track called 'White Jeep' on a compilation tape of Ohio bands that came with a 'zine back in the summer of '89 or '90?

Charles Cicirella said...

Yes that would be me and man would I love to hear that WHITE JEEP again. Who are you?

Unknown said...

Charles, This is Andrea, pianist on your "White Jeep" track. Did Biopunk respond to you, and did you ever get a copy of it? I'd love to hear it again, too!
Thanks, and hope you're doing well!