Sunday, April 17, 2016

This is Our Bounty (For La Charity)

And it appears before us like a shimmering light
And it devours our insatiable hunger
And it shuts us down when no amount of political correctness will clear away all this wretched debris from a thousand or more years of doing only what’s convenient

And this was the first God we killed, but it won’t be our last
And the devil is in the details when the proof in the pudding has gone to pot
And I resisted you for as long as I possibly could then I accepted a minimum wage job and went the way of cowards, thieves and tax collectors

And you wanted it all
And you would not settle even when settling was your best possible move
And this is our bounty no matter how shabby and worn out the pieces are

And our eyes capture only darkness if our souls are on the blink
And do you recall when we were kindling and the ovens whispered our sacred names
And I call shotgun because riding with you into the sunset is all I’ve ever wanted when my back was up against the wall and the corner I’ve painted myself into cries uncle

And it appears before us like a divining rod or bowl of split pea soup
And they stole Andy’s canned art, but they’ll never steal his impish sense of humor or the way he fucked fame sideways because he didn’t believe in taking a day off
And we’ll lose ourselves if we’re not careful and muck around too long on the indignity of death and the raising of the last beatnik
Charles Cicirella

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