Wednesday, June 26, 2019


I put down the pipe, pick up the Bible and put it in a drawer.
It’s the way it has to be because for God and me to be friends there must be no sub-text existing between us.
Words pour through me like a broken bottle or waterboarded detainee and I wish I could share these feelings with a special someone, but this special someone has checked out a long time ago.

Creativity pushes me toward the sun like a pair of rickety roller skates or a choker on a disobedient Doberman.
The first poem I wrote was about the moon, every poem since  has been about pizza in one form or another.
I wish to be locked in a one room country shack with the voice of a generation and a human even more irascible than myself.
I swear we would take to one another like anchovies to olive oil or a teacher to chalk if only a transom window was open long enough for us both to squeeze through to the other side of morning.

I attempted standing the test of time until I became tired and sat down on Humpty Dumpty’s watch.
Need to fill the dishwasher, turn it on and empty it into oblivion and beyond.
Now I’m thinking about when I was a kid and cutting the grass and how pointless an act of contrition that was.

The pipe is staring up at me with its aluminum foil muzzle tempting me to suck myself into unconsciousness.
I don’t like to smoke until 4:20 because I am a stickler for an OCD plan of disassembly.
Let’s bury the axe in our foreheads and forgive and forget the times we aren’t getting along and passive aggression is our only means to an end.

Charles Cicirella

(queasy and squiffy)

I just added squiffy to the dictionary
I’d do anything for Kat because as muses go she’ll never go the way of the dodo
Soulmates really can and do exist in this shattered glass World Gone Wrong contagion of minuses and more disorienting pluses

We stick together like Velcro or Velveeta Cheese
It all makes sense and when it doesn’t I take a deep breath and close my winsome eyes
Let’s go to an art museum together and gaze at each other for the fine examples of modern expressionism that we both are

When you’re feeling queasy and squiffy I want to take care of you like no one has taken care of you before
I wish to wait on you hand and foot and when those parts are attended to taking care of any other lingering maladies hanging around your neck like an albatross with the whooping cough
I’m now imagining us both in our favorite pajamas making forts out of our blankets and making shadow puppets with what’s ever on hand

This poem is getting silly because that’s how I imagine you when you’re right as rain and feel up to conquering the world or at least ordering carryout
You make me sing and I desire to make you sing before it’s too late and all of the best songs have been taken by Karaoke enthusiasts
I just added squiffy to the dictionary and it made me smile like you make me smile each and every day with your soulful predilections for always keeping the heid no matter how fair puckled you are

Charles Cicirella

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

I Want You (For Kat)

I want you
I want you so bad
I want to check you out of the library and never return you

Listening to Marty sing about today and I almost want to relate to a flower child, I said almost
I’m from the Lizard King’s school of turn a dispassionate eye to all hippies, just because I have long hair doesn’t mean shit
Just tried saving this poem only to discover I’ve already written a poem entitled “I Want You,” what can I say I’m nothing if not redundant

Wish to walk through an enchanted forest with you, where I don’t have to worry about the trees conspiring against us
Mother Nature is not always vengeful and will oftentimes take our breaths away before we realize our mouths were never open
Around the bend we go like a stubborn meatball or Steinbeck’s Red Pony, throwing caution and Sense and Sensibility to the epistolary wind

I just dropped a load like Elvis did before going into the Army. I intend no disrespect because I know how commendable it is serving your country and the load I dropped was no friend of mine.
Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! is now playing in my head like David’s lost chord or Leonard’s Tower of Song
I desire to stand the test of time with you, long after we’ve looked our makers squarely in the eye and no longer accept defeat as the only plausible conclusion

Charles Cicirella

Saturday, June 22, 2019


Brushed my teeth
Not something I’d usually mention,
But this isn’t our first poem
And my hygiene could be better

When Doris Day died I knew civility had been fatally wounded
If you’re not allowed to eat the daisies, the good gals will never win
I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks because I’ll never get gender fluidity
Let’s stop mincing garlic and accept the Pres. for what he is: a vampire who will bring war through a Cleopatra fog of denial and fear mongering

Brushed out the cobwebs
Not something I’m proud of
But this isn’t our first bout of pneumonia
And I know we’re stronger than we look

Charles Cicirella

Birthday Baby (For Kat)

“You need a Bleu poem.”

I told her I was fifty on July third and she said you’re just a baby
Then she informed me she was 36 soon to be 37 and it left me in stitches on the side of the Autobahn
There’s sushi in the frig so my happiness is covered for the next 24 hours

I like her so much I don’t even recall when she first entered my orbit like a meteor or cold shower
Blindfolds are essential for firing squads and falling in love if you’re key on picking up on the other person’s chemistry before lightning strikes you DOA
It was years before I heard her voice and when I did all bets were off

Kat has creamy white skin that if I were a kitten I’d lap up


Charles Cicirella