Sunday, October 28, 2018

A Beatles’ song, that’s not a Beatles’ song. (For Kat)

I want you
I want you so bad
Maybe I am vile and need dispensing with,
But I like when you wither from the words I carve from pumice

You’re the volcano that just keeps right on giving
A tropical paradise in Glasgow, Scotland
And I’m a poet in need of your firebrand medicine
Or maybe I just need a better therapist and a healthier diet

I am so over people espousing the cockeyed logic
That perfect is the enemy of the good because from my
Vantage point perfection is no longer relevant
In a world filled with enemies and knives sticking in our backs

I need you
I need you so bad
Like The Good Doctor from the original South Korean version
Though I prefer not being treated as a ten year old child
Even and especially when I was ten years old and the world kept coming up snake eyes

You’re the cup of tea that’s just the right temperature and entices me off the ledge
A buddy movie that’s actually funny and doesn’t dumb itself down for an American audience
And I’m a Jewish-Sicilian gangster filled with self-recrimination and a troubadour’s ethereal sense of style

I’m heading to a magical place where the rhyolite and music are perfectly in sync
It’s all on account of you showing me options and alternatives I never thought possible for someone of my stature
I’ve never believed in mincing words especially when explanations can only be so concise
And when discovering you Kat I know holding back is hardly an option either one of us would be comfortable with

Charles Cicirella

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Plus what is enough?

I didn't realize this fruit had fangs
until I bit in and swallowed.
I guess they're technically prickly spines
carved out of someone else's brain.
The x ray tech told me my veins were okay
but they only checked one part of my body.

I mean I can't even organize my own photos,
so let's not talk about the insides
of my screwed up head trying to coalesce
with the insides of someone else's.
Plus which your head can just fuck itself
if you're going to make fun of my other friends.

The Me Too Movement left me on the sidelines
somewhere between Hell and High-water.
And I’m not okay with that because I have a story
even though I choose not to tell it unless the lights
are out and I’m wearing my favorite pair of jammies.
There’s something to be said for discretionary spending.

I’m so tired of taking the higher ground and listening
to my better angels.
The better devils inside of me are kicking up a tumbleweed
tsunami and refuse to settle for their own Broadway musical.
I’ve listened long enough to the voices inside my head
and am pretty sure they don’t have my best interest at heart.

Sometimes I think pinking shears live inside my body
and I want to pull them out and cut off some of you guy's dicks.
Sometimes I think there's a lawnmower living inside my body
and I want to yank it out and roll over someone's eggplant shaped head.
In my dream a doll house is filled with tiny chainsaws aiming towards doll eyes.
In my nightmare I am the doll house filled with tiny dolls with chainsaws for mouths.

Juliet Cook & Charles Cicirella

Friday, October 26, 2018

Standing Still

Still standing
Life comes at me as I dodge its slings and arrows of weaponized responsibility
Only sanctuary is when I lie down and REM sleep works its magic on my Tinkerbelle soul

Standing still
Like a debauched pelican or extravagant pink flamingo
Where’s John Waters when you need him and why has Divine stopped taking my calls?

Let’s get to the root of all evil, doing nothing in the blank face of adversity and tyranny
We talk about heroes until we’re blue in the face, but are terrified to pick up the gauntlet and deliver a crushing blow to the despots of our modern age
Got some Chinese food delivered and it was cold so I called up the owner and swore at him in Mandarin

I often write poetry for people who don’t even have the good sense to say thank me
If you’re a tried and true artist than expecting credit is like waiting for a crescent moon to kiss you on your forehead
All the same I wish people would learn some manners even if the poems I deliver only rub more salt in their lackadaisical wounds

The writing I do isn’t like most writers because I drill down deep into the nerve and never let up even when I’ve hit bone and the only thing left is collateral damage
I tried sleeping with the fishes, but Mr. Limpet just kept waking me up with his snoring
I’m still standing because there’s more work to be done and no matter if you get it or not even a caged bird can get the job done

Charles Cicirella

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

I have a few bridges I still look forward to burning. (For Kat)

Wish to hear her snort

Desire to watch her cut her toenails while watching Jeopardy!

Rainbows and clouds of specificity crowd us like angelic light workers

Sitting down and writing a tear stained letter

The man in black shot a man in Reno just to watch him die
I went on the road at 25 because living had somehow gotten away from me
Kat purrs like a tigress as she keeps me warm in my most realistic of unpolished dreams

Charles Cicirella

Burroughs (For Geri and John)

Saw your FB post and it tore my heart out
Decided to write a poem for you both
Poet and caregiver is what we must be in these grieving times of loss and entropy

We’re chaos junkies on the road to another reading in smalltime America or the big apple of The Eye of Horus
We do our best to fight against feelings of disarticulation, but the world has other plans as we end up in a heap of dirty laundry on the uneven black and white checkered floor
I’d put my arms around you, but I suspect you’d push me away because heavy feelings have never done anyone much good as thoughts of suicide rattle around the skeletal fragments of another attic in a Polish ghetto of our own distressed devising

I love you even though I don’t know you
What I do understand is you play the clown to do your best to displace any residual guilt from moments that you regret and times in the past when you felt the radio dial was not tuned in
The country music station plays soft as you try and regain your composure and reconstruct the parts of yourself that have broken down and are in serious need of repair and honest to goodness prayer

Charles Cicirella