Meet Me Down By the Pylons (For Katie Boyd)

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2016-09-30T05_47_02-07_00

Meet me underneath the sycamore trees, by the river at the side of the dusty road.

I knew you were a poem the first time I looked into your potbelly stove eyes.

It’s futile to resist because irascible poets like myself don’t understand the word no.

And Heaven for me would be going to the record shops with you on a Saturday afternoon.

There was a snake in the pantry and I was as scared as a kid at their first communion.

Katie showed that snake who was boss as I stood on a chair and covered my eyes like a Victorian lady.

And the music is in our heads as we hunker down and take cover from all the monsters under the bed and outside in the garden.

“Close your eyes in fields of wonder. Close your eyes and dream.”

There’s no stopping any one of us when we get a running start and believe we can fly.

And I was frozen from fear until I looked into your fluttering butterfly eyes and understood to heal we must first defrost and embrace the heat of a new morning.

Charles Cicirella

9/30/16

Monomaniacal

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2016-09-27T22_03_24-07_00

not pointing fingers

that’s not my intention

just from where I stand
being monomaniacal

is a losing game

especially when

the only subject you’re

well versed in

are pictures of yourself

what about a change of pace

a photo of some bushes

or a Wendy’s drive-thru

in the middle of nowhere

grab yourself a fifty cent

Frosty and a Baconator

and give the self serving

smirk and unlasting

impressions a break

for a change

you may ask why am I

obsessed with someone

else’s love affair with their own image

and trust me it has zero to do with

sour grapes because I don’t even drink

no it’s more because too many seem to be

caught up in this person’s self inflated

celebrity and it sickens me to see another

Guyana playing out before us like a

slick, indifferent butter knife to the gut

there has to be something more worthwhile

to waste our nights and days focusing and

unfocusing upon like maybe politics or

the state of virtue and where it’s gone off to

Charles Cicirella

8/28/16

Lyn #8

http://charlespoet.podomatic.com/entry/2016-09-22T21_14_51-07_00

No more words

Just our bodies

Breathing

Sweating

Daylight bankrupted us

Nighttime plagued us

We will not rally

We cannot cry

I’m not a gamesman

Don’t bother with mind games

His only Son forsaken

The Everlasting Man  

Criticized

Crucified

How many more sacrificial lambs

How many more Bo Peeps will have to go without their sheep?

Defrocked

Dethroned

And I want to hold you, but I want a lot of things I’ll never get

And I want to make love to you before twilight again spits in my eye

No more words

Just bodies colliding

Panting

Clutching

Charles Cicirella

9/22/16