Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Blood and Carnage

Collateral damage voice
Singing to an invisible republic
Steam on the window proof of life

Resisting change for the birds
Sings ikons, breaking the mold endlessly
Looked for the words in a strange hotel

I’m not tired, but I am parched
Restless and unware of the passages of time
She woke him up with her guiltless eyes

Poets are a dime a dozen
Troubadours are rarer and weirder
He’s a surgeon whose precision is legendary

Tired of going through the door
Try exiting through the transom
Not everyone is built for goodbyes

Songs built one brick atop another
A reversal of fortune and deconstruction
An architect whose fountainhead is dipped in blood

The faithless will never survive
They lack the chutzpah to look their creator in the eye
Dylan’s a priest well versed in retribution and reimagining love

A voice of new mornings and resounding confidence
He scrambles the yellow eggs from a chicken little outspent
Moving still as the colors move through him endlessly

Charles Cicirella

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