Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Fifteenth Poem (Numbskulls) (For Dan Klute)


Let’s knock our heads together and pretend we have some actual sense.
Tired of all the fretting. It’s time to take some honest to goodness action.
Resistance is never futile even when it doesn’t change a damn thing.

Let’s start at the beginning when the Serpent channeled nothingness.
Crying in the wilderness is oftentimes something we must get used to.
I loved you when you were a champion and I’ll love you when you lose.

With patience the words will follow one after another to the end of this poem.
Sweating the small stuff will only get you a heap of trouble and a sack of woe.
Turn the dial on the radio until you find the music that speaks to your soul.

Let’s knock on every door in this town and pretend we have an actual destination.
Tired of all those blissed out on ignorance. It’s time we answered a higher calling.
He’s ushering in the age of the dumbass and we mustn’t get dragged beneath the crushing waves.

Charles Cicirella

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