Friday, September 15, 2017

Scottish Gypsy (For Katie Boyd)

I want to taste you
It’s never about the punctuation because who really desires to stop?
My words are intended to shake your timbers and leave you unmasked and naked in a puddle on the floor

It’s time to shoot the moon and kill another white racist President
It’s time to bring down the world by ceasing and desisting from the red, white and blue hypocritical politics of a country that never actually cared about taking care of its own
I’m not a fucking patriot so you don’t have to waste those empty words on me. I refuse to waste this one life on anything like dying for my country because my country gave up on me when I still had red hair and freckles covered my body like a red sheet

I need to freeze out all these destructive voices in my head and focus only on the rainbows between my webbed toes
I desire for her to suffocate me with all of her non-weight and her eyes that drill holes so deep into my skull bank you’d think we’d hit China before too long
I know tasting her is out of the question and yet I still cannot stop thinking about the sweetness of her sweat and the tang of her Electric Kool-Aid pulsating personality

My reputation has always proceeded me. That’s just the way it goes when you’re Jewish Sicilian which means you kill people and then later feel guilty about it
There’s no bones about it threading a needle with a camel that looks like Salvador Dali is even harder than it may sound, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try and try again before giving up and fetching a liquid refreshment
I was buked and I was scorned like every torch-singer-poet-troubadour before me and still I did my best to cross the desert because I knew manna from Heaven was not always a certainty or for that matter a foregone conclusion in these days of boxed wine and plastic roses

I must get back up on the pony and ride into Jerusalem before it’s too late and there are no more rooms at the inn
Joseph and Mary gave up on me in part because I don’t look like either one of them and also because they knew this savior business was a sticky wicket to get enmeshed in
From the very start I wasn’t looking forward to being crucified because there’s not enough sunscreen to cover my sins and when it comes to my father forsaking me I truly expected no less from a dad who was absentee right from the very beginning

Charles Cicirella

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