Friday, June 30, 2017


Jesus is good.
It’s not all you need to believe,
But it’s a damn good start.

Trump is no good.
It’s not all you need to hold onto,
But it will point you in the right direction.

Evil exists in this world.
So does good if you’re willing to open up your heart
And stop believing silver linings are all that’s needed to get you through.

I was broken like a toy soldier on a field of AstroTurf
And blood-caked mud.
I felt like it was the beginning of the end until realizing I was allowing exaggeration to get the best of me.

Trump you.
You and your cohorts are monsters and I’m sick and tired of being estranged from the truth.
The new normal of alt. facts and hyperbolic non-starters need to be taken out back and shot and while you’re at it all you pale faced feckless thugs can take your expensive haircuts and custom made suits and go get stuffed.

Healthcare is a right not a privilege and believing otherwise will only silence you in the end.
Our country deserves better than all this bizarro bullshit that some rural motherfuckers believe is in their best interest.
I am not going to Canada or anywhere outside the United States of America because this is still my country as much as it is yours and enough is clearly enough.

Charles Cicirella

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Poem by Joni Soule

I told you when I give you a compliment
To look into my eyes 
So I know you received it
That you have taken it in
And cuddled me
And nurtured me 
Because I gave you that love
So you would love me back
So I would know what love means
If you would look me in the eyes
And you saw me and believed in me
You acknowledged me for all I am
From beginning to end
I am not in this moment
I breathe a sigh of relief
As I speak to myself
For the millionth time
On this earth alone and in pain
that I will seek out a new life
That moves me toward a new day
A new fucking day a brilliance
Engulfs my being into the light
I will call it time for now

Joni Soule

Sunday, June 25, 2017


Nothing could be further from the truth.
You’re as guilty as Adam and Eve when they disobeyed their Father’s one command.
You think you’re pulling the wool over our sheep-led-to-slaughter-eyes and that’s simply not the case.

You were elected President by a ghost in the machine and were and will never be popular with the people.
“You’re fired” drips from your rectum-piehole like bile from Linda Blair’s possessed mouth.
A rancid opportunist obstructing justice with the small hands of a filthy priest.

Now you want us to believe you when and if you testify under oath and all I can say to that is give me a fucking break.
When’s the last time you actually told the truth? Was it when you swore you didn’t rape Ivana? Or perhaps it was when you feigned ignorance to the disappearance of Maria.
You and your pampered, entitled, elitist family of halfwits are holding a gun to the head of America and doing your damndest to wrestle us into the muck. You will not win.

Charles Eric Cicirella

Monday, June 19, 2017

Dizzying Beatific Circles (For Lambryah)

I wanna hold your hand
Like in the Beatles song
Lots of fizz, no pop

We stand together
Or we stand divided
Either way the sands of time will grind us into dust

Poetry is my savior
Like a jail sentence gone awry
Jewish is the new orange if you’re into that sort of thing

And there’s nothing wrong with religion
If you’re incapable of thinking for yourself
Believing in oneself is never overrated nor overestimated

I wanna hold your gland
Just kidding or am I?
Sometimes the sillies get the best of my serious deportment

We built a fort from episodes of Bob’s Burgers, apple juice and pretzel rods
Blew each other’s minds by being good to one another and never letting up on the throttle
Our intensities joined forces and whittled away the boredom and recklessness of a lifetime wasted on staying wasted and forestalling the inevitable

Charles Cicirella

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Point of No Return

Wanted to stick it inside of you, but wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that
My words come back to me in waves of mediocrity and I’m reminded of Paul Simon and how he’s now retired from the music business
Sometimes I am a parser of words, other times I’m just Charlie and that’s okay too

We break new ground when we step outside of our steam-shovel-heads and stop cowering in our comfort zones of disuse and unrhymed panty heists
I was writing about my bathroom habits when I was twenty six and very little has changed twenty plus years later
No one much pays attention, but that’s par for the course when celebrity is neither your forte nor your expressed goal

I wanted to take a tour of America, but decided I’d wait till the orange pig currently in the White House was either driven from office or tied to the mast and dumped in the sea
Welcome to the perfect storm that’s now the United States of Misery where white people prove yet again how ineffectual they can be when they’re thinking only of themselves and the hemorrhoids resting atop their slouching shoulders
I’ve been a pissant since the day I was born and that’s alright because contemptible people are oftentimes the only ones actually speaking truth to power

Wanted to call you on the phone, but decided there was no point when we were already sitting across from one another
You bit into that corned beef sandwich like it was the best thing you’ve ever had in your mouth and it made me jealous and it made me want you even more
I will always tell the truth whether under oath or not. That’s just the way I’ve always rolled and that will never change because truth will not fail you nor will it take you for a ride.

Charles Cicirella

Monday, June 05, 2017

People can snap apart like twigs. (For Chris Cornell)

People can snap apart like twigs
It’s the way the cookie crumbles
The way the starartist dies, alone in a hotel room in Detroit

People’s voices no longer reached him
He was floating out in space with no anchor to remind him of his frailties
It sucks when all the air is sucked from your body and your consciousness caves in on itself like a condemned building or hostile takeover

We mustn’t forget we’re human to a fault and when that fault’s disconnected all hell can and will break loose
In the eye of the storm don’t forget to look up for Heavenly Aid because looking within doesn’t always do the trick
What if he woke up in the middle of a night terror and realized he was the enemy he’d been sleeping with this entire time?

People can break apart too easily in a perfect storm
Thunder and lightning the pyrotechnics we desire to separate us from the other animals in this suburban jungle of waste and squalor
Even superstars get tired and need to come down from the day to day and sometimes the only way to do that is by altogether removing themselves from the game

Charles Cicirella