Tuesday, September 13, 2016

This is Not a Trifle


I know you did not mean it as an insult
And still that’s how I took it
Which is my problem not yours

Sidney Maiden blowing hard in my ears
As I dig deep into my construction paper psyche
Trying to reach into the unsubtle extinguishing of breath

And nothing is sacred anymore
As political correctness becomes a garrote around our necks
Just another six year old beauty queen dead and no one even batting a false eyelash

Let’s blow up the world
Let’s fly into the Twin Towers to show America just how garish our best laid and misplaced plans have become
More carnage, more Whoppers and Big Macs served up to the impoverished like a holy wafer and a Priest’s uncut cock force fed into an altar boy’s soft, apologetic mouth

It’s all bullshit
Every ounce of OJ with no pulp no longer holding the super flu or super fly at bay
And another Presidential election is at our door as we choose between the same sides of a super predator coin as capitalism wears a white hood and burns a cross in our collective suburban emerald lawns

This is not a trifle
In fact it’s not even a blemish
It’s just one more left handed compliment paid out to the monkeys locked in that windowless room writing a new folio of Shakespeare graffiti

Now we’re near Como, in North Mississippi Hill Country
As I remember just how good she tasted as we went broke
And she sucked down one Pall Mall after another
Like she meant to do herself harm

Charles Cicirella

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