Wednesday, January 15, 2020


I write lines                                        
Sometimes people respond
Most of the times not

I’m not complaining
It’s what I signed up for
When martyrdom replaced Market District lives

It’s how the savior crumbles
When he or she is dipped in the milk of the people
And the powers that be crucify the teacher for their outspoken beliefs

What good would an introverted God be?
All dressed up for the dance, like a wallflower standing in front of a firing squad
Everything holding me hostage is self-inflicted and reeking of pot leaves and lavender oil

I spill what may or may not be truth as the sands of time mock me with their scrunched up faces and raccoon hands
My stream of consciousness was wearing a mask when it came up behind you and scared the living daylights out of your future-lives repository
She plays peek-a-boo because it’s easier than owning up to her Robin Hood feelings of doubt and altruism

Lying in a burned out basement with Smith & Wesson, it’s all good until someone brings up the subject of milk-blood
I’m addicted to tuning in not checking out, go ahead and look at my track record while we get caught up on who is mimicking who
I write lines and sometimes they stick like spaghetti to the wall while other times they draw a blank on a faceless crowd of wannabes

Charles Cicirella

Monday, January 13, 2020

Fay Wray and King Kong (For K.)

I’m Fay Wray
No wait, I’m King Kong
Ding dong Iggy Pop isn’t dead
And I want to eat a hamburger with him.

I want to move the Earth with you Kat
I believe it’s possible because my cup runneth over
As we stop revisiting our pasts because doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. I’ve been in love with you even before Little Richard got religion or the Holy Ghost recorded an album called Blonde on Blonde
It’s true I can kick the crap out of any blank page without even a second thought, but when it comes to looking you straight in your sock-monkey- almost eye saucers I feel as light as a baby Jesus and as bright as a phoenix burning up.

We shouldn’t be afraid of the skyscrapers or the black helicopters buzzing around like some angry drone bumblebee, as fat as Belushi when he was full of cocaine and despair
I just happened upon the word Weegie and I want to ask you about it, but don’t wish to offend
We come from two entirely different worlds and yet still share the same sun and moon.

I’m Fay Wray and I swallowed King Kong because I was hungry and also because he was just a big ham
You are the sun, moon and stars as you make my mind ice skate over a frozen lake of vipers and dung beetles
Imagining listening together to David Bowie as we live our dreams and our dreams possess us like a Southern Baptist preacher’s fire and brimstone sermons
“Wake up, you sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed. Wake up, the wicked witch is dead!”

Charles Cicirella