Saturday, October 12, 2013

Music Box

(For Molly Andrews)

We begin wrestling in the mud like idiot savants and adolescent Gods. And nothing matters until the page is turned and the songbook is filled with stardust.

She introduced me to a Gospel Train when playing the autoharp for us on McMillen Ave. It was the year of who knows when and I am a better man for everything that was created and destroyed in those misplaced and unidentified times.

We end wrestling with the mythos of resurrection like wise old fools and hungry forsaken devils. And everything makes a difference when we focus on the breath of life existing inside of us.

Molly Andrews is a harmonic convergence whose birth keeps us all eternally young and infinitely foolish.

Charles Cicirella


(For Veronica)

I am lost in her music.
I yearn to get lost in her hard rain.
I wished upon a star and her eyes appeared open and wanting.

I am found in her grace.
I am frozen in space, the Earth’s gravitational pull refuses to pay any attention to me.
I positioned myself as a Romeo and fell as flat as the Earth was once believed to be.

We must forge ahead.
We must adapt to changing conditions because evolution will not wait for us to catch up.
We must see through remnants of lost love and never forget that soul mates do exist even though they may not be all that usual in these unusual days and nights.

I desire to be in the same room with her the next time her heart dances upon the keys.
I long to hold her turbine body as she sets the wheels in motion, ultimately setting us both free.
I wished upon a star and she appeared before me peaceful and on fire like Joan of Arc.

Charles Cicirella


(For Rick Polhamus)

This is a new beginning because I know you understand what is meant by a new beginning.
This is never ending because I know you understand what is meant by something that never ends.
And when everything began making sense is the precise moment the writing on the wall vanished.
And when nothing any longer makes a lick of sense, that is when we must get our hands dirty and completely eradicate the ghosts in our rolling stone hearts.

I was brave and not afraid to admit it until realizing my bravery was in fact cowardice sold to the highest blind and deaf bidder.
I was strong and not afraid to admit it until realizing my strength was weakness and I was getting nowhere fast walking around in chain metal.
I was bulletproof and not afraid to admit it until realizing I had been shot full of holes long before I had even been born, and dying is too often seen as no big deal when the life you are living is not really living.

New beginnings are sculpted from clay and honest to God possibility.
When meeting you for the first time and every time since I know I am meeting a true believer who understands to preach the word of God, one must first live in God.
There are never ending mysteries taking shape all around once we shatter the mirror images in our love sick eyes and again understand that our souls do indeed carry the weight.
When talking with you on the phone I always feel renewed inside and I think it has everything to do with the sound of your laughter and how it breaks free of convention and brings me back to the Garden.

Charles Eric Cicirella

New Orleans: Sex & Death

(For Bob Dylan)

Break through the cold
Reject impermanence  

We’re immortal
Embrace transience

Stranger in a strange land
Brushstrokes conjuring up ghosts

His paintings vibrate
His paintings howl
His paintings soak up the blood on the killing floor.

Dance in the white flames
Resurrection a sanctified state of body and mind
Death is not the end.
Charles Eric Cicirella