(This one’s for all the poets out there who
have an actual clue. You know who you are. Hold your applause, but by all means
pat yourselves on your backs when it’s all said and done and I’ve disappeared
out the backdoor.)
I’m inspired.
I’m not.
I have no idea
where the inspiration goes, but I cannot even begin to tell you how ecstatic I
am when it returns and chooses to play with me again.
I was a thief,
but I wasn’t anybody’s savior so you can stuff your paltry impressions of me
inside your Sherlock pipe and suck it at your own discretion.
Ya I’m on food
stamps, but who isn’t that’s actually worth a damn and is willing to run at the
wall with all the gumption they’ve got before they cannot even recognize their
best friend or their best friend’s dog and they’re sitting on a bench drooling,
feeding the pigeons silences.
I’m not a tall
drink of water. In fact I’m not even a shot and a beer, but that’s okay because
I still pack enough of a punch to set you back on your heels if you’re into
that sort of thing.
I met John
Burroughs in Canton, Ohio at some coffee shop I’m pretty sure I’ll never set
foot in again.
I really
thought great things would come from that fortuitous meeting, but I couldn’t
have been more wrong.
Of course my
instincts as focused and as razor sharp as they often are doesn’t mean I always
get it right or for that matter even know what’s really happening much of the
time.
We lean into
it.
We grow our
hair long and believe we’re letting our freak flags fly when actually we’re too
buttoned up for our own good and until we figure out how to unzip our minds the
terrorists will win with their fear and their hatred and their loathsome way of
turning our most hallowed of beliefs into some vile mind game ensuring our very
destruction.
We destroy our
freedoms by peddling so much rhetoric it’s impossible any longer to tell the
good guys from the bad guys, if there was ever a difference to begin with.
Whenever
someone espouses the words holy war just know they’re completely full of
radioactive shit and will do their very best to run you down in the street like
a dog because if they don’t silence you or at the very least blow themselves up
while trying to silence you, then they’ll have to live with themselves for
another uninspired, methodical day and that’s something no one wants to face,
especially when they have no real love to give.
Charles Cicirella
11/18/15
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