Sunday, September 10, 2017

Breathing In Debris, Breathing Out Calamity

A cartoon safe fell on my head
It hurt like an imaginary Hell
I had it coming of course
Nothing like karma scorned

Wonder if John Lennon being such a fucking prick
Had anything to do with his undeniable genius
I’m guessing not and he was just another one of those
Entitled son of a bitches who believes the world owes them something

Weird how too often those spraying out so much sunshine
Are raging inside like a monster machine wiping out the little guy
By continually taking snide, cruel swipes at their Walter Mitty souls
Look I don’t care if you wrote “Imagine” there’s still no excuse for terrorizing everyone around you with such formidable calculation like another Svengali serial killer

It’s time to call it quits or maybe it’s not I don’t really know
Just about when I was ready to throw in the towel life reminded me I might actually have a few good years left
I allow depression to cripple me like Tiny Tim in “A Christmas Carol”, but what I keep forgetting is he made the best out of what he was given until pushed into the stove at the end of the novella and used for "God bless us, every one!" kindling

The Acme Corporation called and they want all of their foolproof products back
Of course nothing in those cartoons quite came off like it should have or did it?
Perhaps the inevitable failure of another Wile E. Coyote scheme is all any of us have to look forward to as we breathe in duplicitous debris and breathe out clouds of Calamity Jane calamity

Charles Cicirella

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