Monday, January 25, 2021

Black Sheep (For Jenny)

Let’s compare our silences
I mean really compare them
With the lights of America turned off and all the Joneses tied up in the basement next to their endless supply of material garbage

Let’s hold hands as the foggy memories of pain killers and denial get lost in in the corners of unswept rooms
Let’s stop believing tolerance is a virtue and finally do something about all the hatred fermenting in our country like good beer or a country song that never goes flat
We’d sit in the back of the car as I made you laugh about great grandma Pearl; of course we loved her, but were too young to understand the wisdom and beauty of our elders

Let’s divide and conquer all the myths about this or that resurrection and keep in mind the Crucifixion had nothing whatsoever to do with religion and everything to do with cutting down a great healer and teacher in their prime
Too many people trying to nail us to this or that cross, blaming us for capital crimes taking place thousands of years before we were developed in a darkroom of shadows and seditious secrets
Oftentimes I find it difficult to chill out when all around us a civilization crawls to its final resting place

You asked me a long time ago to get in touch and of course I never did because I’m funny that way and also because reaching out has never been my strong suit
When I heard your voice on the phone everything came flooding back from the Mad Libs to David’s Bar Mitzvah and of course the summers swimming at the Beechmont Country Club
Jenny, you were the first person that not only got my sense of humor, but understood we’re all playing for keeps and must break free from the chains binding us before those same chains become a part of our DNA.

Charles Cicirella

Amanda Munchkin

Catches you off guard with a dry wit dipped in dark chocolate and sprinkled with brutal honesty
The gingerbread house was nice, but the gingerbread condo was more spacious and closer to a big glass of almond milk
I don’t know you and I’m not even sure why I’m writing you this poem, other than to say I am glad I stumbled upon you in this social media maze of frozen and defrosted common sense

Not hitting on you in the least little bit, these words are just that, words that may lift you up or at the very least help to keep you standing when the boredom and isolation rips into your flesh like a pair of elongated bladelike canine teeth
We all need a pick me up from time to time as your surroundings mock you and the vacation you were someday going to take becomes your last saving grace

Knocks you out with her velvet, snapdragon tweets, breathing fire with their sultry undertones of jazz and despair
I wish I was dreaming when I wrote this, but I’m still very much awake as my Stonehenge thoughts knock on Amanda’s confectionary door asking for a cup of sugar and some of her fireproof wisdom
Some people are sweet; others sour while others are just right as they prove not only the existence of Goldilocks, but also of the three bears.

Charles Cicirella

Sunday, January 10, 2021

Bum (For Kat)

It’s not about objectifying anyone
Just thinking about how cute her bum must be
She said no naked pictures and I accept that like I accept morning dew and bullfrogs at night down by the waterside

Being that her bum is Scottish I become even more crazed when I daydream about it
Just like when she said “hello Charlie” and my insides became butterfly Jell-O
There’s something about her that strikes more than a match in me as an entire oil refinery goes up and I’m left holding my shoes and a big toothless grin

I desire for our souls to hitchhike through the stars as we become better acquainted and leave nothing to chance including happy endings
Like Churchill said (and I’m paraphrasing) she’s a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma and that’s just the very beginning
Sometimes I become out of sorts and the words I connect, disconnect right before my dog-tired eyes and still Kat stands by me because she understands even a poet loses their shit every once in a great while

It’s not about objectification or making another person feel uncomfortable
It’s about inspiration and a muse convention where all the beautiful people get together and reveal just how they stay so positive and full of light energy
It’s about being seen not unseen and I see Kat both with my eyes open and shut because she’s constantly reinventing herself as she stays as true to herself as blue skies and yellow sunsets.

Charles Cicirella

Social Distance Snuggle (For Kat)

Let’s stand apart from the rat fuckers and longshore sycophants who blow trump and boris for the sake of sport and for the sake of their sadistic brand of warped patriotism
I desire to social distance snuggle with you across a field of Orpheus daisies
It’s metaphysical, but make no mistake it’s also very much physical as I imagine checking out all your reference materials and leaving no page unturned

Sometimes I think of you naked, sitting on a rock. I cannot reach you because I’m blindfolded and behind glass
In this dream sequence sad eyed ladies of the lowland captivate as much with their vowels as with their fluttering eyelashes
Your tattooed soul called my tattooed soul collect and I accepted the charges because I’ve been in love with you since Fred Flintstone was carved into Mount Rushmore
Let’s stand together and push against the tide that’s never had our best interests at heart
I’m tired of somebody else eating my lunch and vomiting pablum down my esophagus
It’s supernatural, but make no mistake it’s also grounded firmly in reality as getting to know you takes me way, way back to a silence I’m having a difficult time letting go of

I want to hold you as nighttime turns out the daylight
I want to run with you as the desert howls all around us like a wolf symphony
Making love to you I mustn’t even imagine as words fail me and my thought fingers go on strike.

Charles Cicirella

Saturday, January 02, 2021

“I have a very long history of questionable judgments will that do”

That’s all she had to say and I was hooked
I’m not a very good fish, but I would swim a thousand seas to get to her
That’s not hyperbole and is in fact coming from someone who flunked pollywogs twice

Twitter is such a horror show as you smell the desperation coming off the tweets like grease being spit from the corn dog stand at some lonesome county fair in the middle of nowhere
The tweets I’ve read of hers are different because she clearly knows this is all a big put on and once we’re done being punked the great Oz will finally make an appearance and lay all of our most hellacious fears to rest
The words aren’t advancing as fast as they were a week ago and perhaps that’s because I smoked some pot or maybe it’s simply because that New Year smell has already worn off and it’s back to expecting very little and wishing for even less

I cast myself out into the middle of the river because I’m better off alone than when I’m with a bunch of people I don’t care to know and I find myself doing tricks like some overeducated killer whale
A good book is fine and dandy, but liquor is quicker if only me and alcohol didn’t have such a love and hate relationship
I’m better off inhaling than I am swallowing and that’s just the way it has always been even when I was shooting tiny Nyquil plastic cups of Cuervo Gold at this awful pizza place called Sandro’s

All she had to do was pay me no mind and I was ready to go back to school and finally get my degree in English so I could get on social media and forget how to actually communicate with another human being
As astrology goes, I’m a Cancer, but I hardly believe in that sort of thing because I’ve never had much use for water
That’s not hyperbole and just like my mother I’d rather drink iced tea over water any old day of the week and that includes spring or purified.

Charles Cicirella