Wednesday, June 15, 2016

“So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late”

Everything is broken or breaking apart or disassembled and begging to be put back together again.
And the slow train has run off the track and the quiet man has died a loud and undignified death.
And I’m waiting for the caliber less words to arrive and for you to call so I can finally check out.

Another blues song up around the bend as the cowboy horizon nips at our Italian heels and we pray to a Hebrew God.
And all of this hate in the world is turning me off in a big way as one conspiracy theory after the next backfires and we drop to the floor like another innocent chalk outline.
You want to know what’s wrong. I’ll tell you. It’s these paid suits making endless lists and passing the buck to a dead pool of bean counters and faceless assassins who carry out their orders in blind allegiance and constipated patriotism.

We’ve killed our spirit by pretending we give a shit when nothing could be further from the truth.
We slaughtered the Indians in the name of God only knows what because I guess the white man is entitled to whatever he wants as long as his guns are loaded and his conscience is an empty void.
Thinking about Jonestown and how mothers administered the poison to their babies using eyedroppers. Thinking how so little has changed today as we feed our young violence and hatred through radicalized screens and don’t even give it a second thought.

Charles Cicirella

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