Friday, January 05, 2024

Coffee Tastes Good

Coffee good

Poetry gone

Another mass shooting, more empty words


Chaos washes over me like orange marmalade

When I was a kid I read Paddington because I too felt like an orphan

These days I do my best to keep my head down, I’m Jewish and have a target on my back


Persecution is never the game I play

Unless it has to do with nailing myself to a crossbow like Robin Hood  

Religion another loaded chamber filled with bullets and searing reprisals


After centuries of beachcombing the human condition finally became inhumane

Even poets have a red line or red lion depending on the zoo they frequently visit

Word on the street is he reeks of ketchup, BO and ass and I believe it.


Charles Cicirella


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