Saturday, February 10, 2018

The Life and Times of a Beatnik

Desolation angels
Let’s take what’s left and try our best to keep it whole
Race across the country looking for your father
The Holy Ghost called and wants his martyr complex back

I was so bent out of shape I couldn’t get straight
All the country songs in the world won’t make me an alcoholic
I tried and I tried and still I did not fit in the skeleton keyhole
If you’re comfortable basking in someone else’s fifteen minutes there’s no hope for you

Doctor Sax
Sitting on the toilet writing your guts out while an exterminator looks for a clean needle
Living with your mother may not be all that, but when you’re cracking up it may be the very last safety net you have left
Streams of mediocrity wrap around my throat and silence my pangs for acceptance and alchemy

I desire to be free of all constraints, but I don’t wish to die if such a thing is even possible
I resist everything and everyone, but I have to admit waking up alone is getting old
I must pull my head out of my ass, but to do that I will need to discover some sunshine in my life pronto
Maybe I need to go to a library and get lost in the books before it’s too late

On the Road
When I was a kid I liked to go to 7-11 and eat a burrito on the wall outside the store
It made me feel like I was some kind of cool cat different than all the rest of the alley cats
Started to again buy frozen burritos and they do lend me some solace in these dark days
Woke up about an hour ago with that sinking feeling in my gut already taking hold

Charles Cicirella

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