start

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-06-15T13_59_34-07_00

no one begins with an advantage

we all start blank, ready to work or to die

I’m unleavened basking in the desert sun

heard your whispers when you were up and coming

stalled out somewhere between Heaven and Hell

my existence a monster truck deplete of fuel

out in the prison yard, always showing up fashionably late

gruel’s not much to look forward to after a grueling day of breaking rocks

nights even more full of terror and squealing pangs of reoccurring self-recrimination

I hope this poem reaches you in one piece

circus peanuts and fruitcakes plague my Jivaro Blowgun childhood

saw it advertised next to survival manifestos for the worried sick man

starved out on political correctness and neo-liberalism for the uncommon psychopath

wishy washy hidden agendas feeding word salad to the poor impoverished fly over states

trumpet blast kills someone on fifth ave. while a baby is ripped from their mother’s arms

charles cicirella

6/15/18

I Am a Phoenix

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-06-11T12_39_43-07_00

The ashes of our ancestors a guidepost passed the oceans of recycled debris and restless tomorrows.

I was a classless warrior until finally accepting every tilting windmill as a shot to the bow or reminder of how close we are to madness.

Falling on your sword is noble if you understand nobility and that not every Shogun is worthy of their branding.

Let’s go to the park after dark for another misguided attempt at date night because neither one of us thought to bring protection and are too lazy to hail a cab or figure out public transportation.

I wanted to be so much more as I approach fifty and yet truthfully I’ve always only aspired to be an artist and I’ve nailed that sucker as I drowned in the juices of my own infamy.

He took the belt from his hotel robe and hung himself. Play that moment over and over again in your head and you too will wind up dead before room service or the maid knocks on Heaven’s door.

I wanted to unload or at the very least bust a nut before she got home, but I became so fixated on death I forgot all about taking a dump or cumming.

Losing yourself in the latest gossip will only get you to the next newsstand and don’t forget newsstands are quickly becoming extinct just like dignity and the occasional wisps of hero worship.

I wanted to be my own man and then I came upon the concrete notion of gender fluidity and a rainbow of colors opened up before me like a Bonnie and Clyde bank vault or Larry King’s splendid suspenders.

I tried to watch Celebrity Family Feud, but quickly grew bored so I turned off the death ray television and instead called a friend.

We must break free from the societal chains we have become all too dependent upon as we take another ill-advised chomp of the poisonous apple and discover our true selves, naked, alone and afraid of our own empty shadows.

She was my lover until she realized she was fucking below her station and left me with my dick in my hand and a sketch book full of charcoal memories of someone else’s happiness.

Charles Cicirella

6/11/18

Modern Day Job (Wasabi Lawyer)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-06-09T14_00_20-07_00

The drugs I’m taking for my back are wiping me out.

I’m a space cadet looking for a suitable planet to call home.

If you’re going to be a tried and true artist you must sacrifice everything.

This isn’t some romantic notion or ploy to entice someone into a bear trap.

Everything is a chore as life is presented to me as a coat of arms and I fight the unreality of being boxed in or hugged by a Westworld robot.

Let’s stop the chit chat and get down to the reality of a one-two-punch and being laid out like an action painting or catalog not even worth wiping your ass with.

Fuck power and money and the secrets shared behind closed doors by very small individuals who have no empathy whatsoever or concept of what is truly real versus what’s virtual reality.

I have never felt comfortable in the shower. Are there directions on how to properly wash oneself?

Too much slight of hand and orifices just out of reach. I feel like it’s a game of tic-tac-toe I’ll never win.

I thought Dr. Oz was exposed as a fraud and the Tinman was just another anti-hero looking for a protagonist to take advantage of.

So much shit flying everywhere, not sure I’ll ever feel at peace again.

The terrorists won, inducing fear into our baby talk and every other mode of conversation including pig Latin and psychobabble.

You want the truth? Well I’ll tell you the last time I husked the truth I was on another planet where everyone dressed alike and that metallic taste in your mouth meant you were home sweet home.

Charles Cicirella

6/6/2018

Underbelly (For Marc)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-05-15T20_57_58-07_00

Snake

Slithering

Snake

Forked tongue

Lights out

Opaque civilization

Shoot the messenger

Don’t shoot the messenger

The truth will always find a way to rise to the top

No one appreciates the written word

Even God Almighty found the Bible to be lacking something

Trust yourself even and especially when it feels like you don’t have a friend in this world

Porous mind

Check into the unconscious hotel

Room service will blow your mind into mirrors of elasticity

I’ve never wanted to be a soldier

I’ve only ever wanted to be a writer

Now I’m both as urban camouflage wreaks havoc on my superego

Marc this poem is for you

I haven’t a clue why

Perhaps you can explain it to me over lunch, dinner or a walk in the park

Charles Cicirella

4/20/18

Tracers (For Violet)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-05-13T10_26_19-07_00

No ulterior motives, hidden agendas or swamp coolers dangled over our heads

She’s as real as they come like black licorice or an antecedent disqualified, but not yet disproven

We will go into the desert wearing nothing, but our Charlie Don't Surf tee-shirts

Got hooked on heroin because that’s what chicks like her do when they grow bored and worn down by life’s ironies and unmapped mysteries

Einstein’s a genius as was Tesla and Churchill if you focus on their deeds and not their follies

Unlocking Violet’s vault out of the question until you sacrifice everything including your secretive persona

Time to lean against the wall and pee

This sciatica will be the death of me

Once we’re in close proximity I promise to pick up all of my pieces and do my best to put myself back together again like Charles Bronson did years after he had a Death Wish and went the way of a cancerous tumor with a dollop of Alzheimer's on top for good measure

Charles Cicirella

5/12/18

Group Sex and Jazz

https://soundcloud.com/user-224646337/group-sex-and-jazz

Listening to jazz

Her flashes are the only flashes I need to bring me back to life

Called me a broke ass and it hurt because it was true and I know dollar signs are the only things right now adding up for her

Stick your finger in the socket and shoot off like a rocket to uncharted planets

Go ahead and listen, listen till your blue in the face and lemon juice is running down your supple thighs

We started off as strangers, but by the time she was through introducing me to the record collection streaming in her mind I knew we’d been connected long before either one of us called Earth our home

We’re caterpillar astronauts and have a plan of attack that has everything to do with survival and very little to do with greed or gluttony or the self-interest of most cam models or poets

I’ll never forget the first time I entered her from behind and how the noises she made reminded me of a bird sanctuary I’d visited once in Florida

She enjoys being made love to by multiple partners because she said it helped her to cover up a multitude of sins

Reading The Abortion by Richard Brautigan to her is a memory I yearn to create and that’s even before we rob our first bank and refer to one another as Bonnie and Clyde

Chasing our collective blues away by getting lost in a rainbow of colors yet thought of and one final kiss from her full lips that never tell a lie

No clear idea why I am writing these poems for her when she doesn’t seem at all interested in them, but she’s an inspiration and that’s something I refuse to ignore or deny as I turn the page and press play on the jukebox in my hungry mind

Charles Cicirella

4/25/18

Television Screen Breeds Discontent

https://soundcloud.com/user-224646337/18-television-screen-breeds-discontent

Been a favorite for a good long while,

But not until last night did I enter her Magic Theatre

I was immediately taken aback by the jive she spread

Like salmon cream cheese on an everything bagel

Her eyebrows caught me by surprise as did her

Big ass that called out to me like a lonely planet

Revolving around a fiery sun

I wanted to reach out and bite it or at the very least

Take shelter beneath its plump and erudite tendencies

Television breeds discontent that’s what all the punks say,

But I tend to disagree because I’ll take entertainment in any form

As long as it distracts me from the everyday grind of pushing away

From another bland crisis in these days of bedlam and bondage

I cannot lie when she mentioned The Celestine Prophecy

I got an erection because I wasn’t use to entering a chatroom

And leaving with more than just sticky hands

She got my brain pumping and my heart thinking as I welcomed

The intrusion because too much melancholia makes Jack a dull boy

And sometimes even a serial killer

Charles Cicirella

4/22/18

Mental Health

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-04-19T10_56_44-07_00

It’s no secret

Been out to lunch since before I can even remember

In fact I remember nothing and nothing is all I’m holding onto

When she appeared before me it took my breath and all of my loose change away

Dressed in her birthday suit and an ability to change according to the seasons, she called my bluff while going beneath the hood and replacing any loose hoses

I believed I was in love, but that’s always been my cross to bear

We live on Flintstones Chewables and our inability to ever finish anything we start

We break beneath the falsified pressure of another cooked election or email hacked for the sake of ridicule and redundancy

Let’s stop jumping for Joy and leave Merry alone because before we know it we’re all going up in a puff of second hand smoke

It’s no secret

I was born with an anchor tied to my ankle and like all ankle-bracelet-babies I’m bound to get mine before the sun sets or gets its teeth kicked in by an envious and devout moon

Ready to deliver the good news before coming to terms with none of the news being all that good and the blood spattered morning just keeps reminding me we’re all doomed

Charles Cicirella

3/24/18

I don't like knowing your heart has been broken. (For Tamara Rose)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-04-15T16_20_57-07_00

Gonna write you something profound.

To sweep you right off your Dick Van Dyke drop feet.

Gonna swing for the fences and pray I don’t hit a fowl ball.

Moses was delivered like a bad pun to a people with nothing, but

Unleavened time on their half feline, half woman hands.

I wandered around that desert like a Hebrew with a bad head cold,

In need of nurturing and directions to the nearest clean restroom.

A long time ago I stopped being a part of the singles scene because

No one ever seemed much interested in what I coveted like a newborn sun.

I’ve treasured you Tamara Rose since first meeting you

When you and Fred Zaner were dating.

I know he prefers to be called Damon Zex, but I’ve always found

Fred to be more interesting than his arch nemesis Damon.

You were more than his better half. You were the blood that kept

Right on dripping after everyone, including the undead had their say

And left the Temple Mont for a less compromised energy vortex.

I’d like to set up a playdate for our chakras.

I’d like to play a game of Twister with you wearing nothing, but our sarcasm.

I had this dream where I woke up next to you and all that was left was a

Skeleton and that winning smile that keeps me coming back for more

Like an award winning buffet or a Slinky that’s discovered a new spring in its step.

Charles Cicirella

4/10/18

Psychotic Break (Inertia in Spades)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-04-15T01_23_16-07_00

I write words like no one else.

Maybe that’s why no one listens.

Either they cannot hear the brilliance

Or they can and it’s too much

For their outmoded intellects.

Shall we break for tea and break a few skulls?

How do you feel about violence and all the crying silences?

I look forward to when I lay my head down on the

Soaking pillow and either wake up in a daydream or

Not at all.

Some will read these words as depressing when nothing

Could be further from the dislocated truth.

I’m no suicide case, in fact I don’t believe in death wishes

Because when you blow out the birthday candles everything

You wish for rarely comes true and when it does watch out.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen the real you. In fact it has

Been decades since I’ve felt comfortable in my own skin.

Rusty recently asked about Katie Boyd and the poems

I’ve written for her. It’s nice when someone makes more

Than an effort and clearly cares about you.

I write words like no one else and some take notice

While most could give a shit less. Me, I’m just doing my best

To doggy paddle through the wistfulness of when I was a child
and a curfew actually meant more than promises broken.

My heart was open for so long I started to take false positives

For granted.

Charles Cicirella

4/6/18

Balcony

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-04-14T16_16_16-07_00

Sometimes we fight and argue and that’s how I know we’re really friends because we always come back stronger than we were before.

We’ve known each other for well over fifteen years and I still respect and cherish her as much as I did the very first time we met in that coffeehouse on 5^th. Ave.

She bleeds poisoned cupcake poetry with sequined words and pageantries of distorted horn blasts. She doesn’t waste her time with political maneuvering because she knows and feels what’s important and acts on it with every mindful and unmindful step she takes.

Our poetry is vastly different as is our take on most everything, but with those two very dissimilar viewpoints we’ve retaken a photograph of poetic lands yet unchartered or visited by the likes of our terrestrial selves.

Something is burning and I believe it’s the engines of forethought held captive in our brains like molten lava cupcakes or all beef hotdogs smoldering over a remedial campfire of accidental brilliance.

My hands were dirty until she forced them beneath the faucet and washed them clean of dispersion and aspirations of self-inflicted vertigo. I in turn did the same for her by growling litanies of undiminished otherness into her ears of trance and fury.

It’s a lost cause attempting make the world over in our own images because the world has its own plans having little to do with our own blown out birthday candle wishes.

Sometimes she gets me wrong and sometimes I get her right and together what we’re left with is worth more than all the empty words piling up in the parking lots of our unscripted, stagecoach minds.

Poetry is life not only proof of life and if you’re using it to become more popular or to advance your own bullshit cause well then you’re missing the point. Juliet knows this as she leaves corrupted hellcats in her wake and emerges from the incurable flames toasty and totally radicalized on her own terms and frosted terminology.

Charles Cicirella

4/12/18

Untitled Love Poem

I just want someone I can say I love you to, who will say it back to me.

Is that asking too much?

Apparently it is.

Charles Cicirella

4/12/18

Bloodbath

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-04-03T09_59_37-07_00

I will die in a hail of bullets

It’ll happen lickety split

Because the unconscious mind

Must pay for the sins of the undead

Refusing payment will only get you

In a bigger mess because the horror is

Too splendid to foretell and to absurd

To relive

These words are just words and still

They will keep me dry and filled with possibility

Because they come from someplace other

Than this kingdom we could never quite accept as ours

I’ve been a stray dog since before I was even born

My mother’s favorite, I betrayed her for a father who only

Cared about his own skin and never received his children

For the blessing they are

Some bloodbaths are communal, others only beget more violence

When told guns don’t kill people, people kill people

Understand the simplicity of these words and how ignorance

Can just as easily be sprayed like bullets into a person’s flesh

The darkness of night welcomes me like an angelic kiss

A new morning spits me out like uncured meat

You were always my first choice, even and especially when

You hated me for the choices I refused to make

Charles Cicirella

4/3/18

I'm Sinking Fast

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-03-31T12_24_49-07_00

Going to eat a piece of matzoh and try to look passed this desert I’m drowning in

What if the Easter Bunny doesn’t rise again? What then are we to do with all of these obnoxious eggs?

I could binge watch every episode of The West Wing or I could just curl up in a ball and do my best to forget and forgive that I was ever born

I’m sinking fast

The crossroads laid out before me like a snake’s flickering forked tongue as I try to not vomit in my sleep and end up like Hendrix did

I have a close friend who I conspire with and that keeps me both sane and dialed into whichever wavelength isn’t filled with white noise and white privilege

I used to believe that I was better than all the rest until realizing we’re all Keebler Elves doing our very best to find a tree that suits our particular cookie making skillset

I’m so exhausted that I think even dying would take too much energy

It’s best I stop fixating on giving up the ghost and instead figure out how I’ll someday fuck Christina Rici

Going to lay down now and catch some z’s

Maybe when I wake up there will be an Easter basket laid at my feet

Sleep is a sanctuary I look forward to like vanilla malts or malt liquor on a really hot day

Charles Cicirella

3/31/18

My review of Bettye LaVette's new album, "Things Have Changed."

Listening to Bettye LaVette's album "Things Have Changed" on Spotify. She's very much dialed in. Wondering if that's Larry Campbell's lead on "Things Have Changed." Guessing it probably is. She really tears these songs down and puts them back together again almost as if it's a Bob Dylan Motown record. So many Bob covers and so few of them have any real meat on their clunky bones. This record is all about that sweet fat hanging off her ribs. I wish I had a wet nap so I could wipe my hands after each greasy, delicious morsel. “It Ain't Me Babe” is remorse at a heightened level that is painful to listen to because it reminds us just how many heartbreaks stand in the way of our happiness. The way she half growls - half whispers certain words leaves me in both delicious agony and expunged, laconic ecstasy. In fact it's the kind of ecstasy Lou Reed ordered up when he believed he was alone and the black leather - blue mask was put up on the shelf. “Political World” she stretches out and gets us up close and personal to the executioner’s face. It’s Bob rap served up by Bettye and Keith Richards with no apology as the song drives through Detroit, top down without a fucking care in this world or the next. “Don’t Fall Apart On Me Tonight” breaks it wide open. Imagine Easter with no Christ or Passover without gefilte fish. This is one Bob song I always wished Bob would surprise us with and hearing it now brings fresh tears to my unrepentant eyes. I am loving this record because Bettye clearly loves these songs and understands that to do them any justice whatsoever you must bring tough love into the equation or else the geometry just won’t work. Not really finding the piss and vinegar that I am used to with “Seeing The Real You At Last”, but you can’t have everything as you sail through the storm strapped to the mast. “I'm gonna quit this bullshit now.” This record is a conversation between Bettye and her twin or maybe her audience or maybe just maybe she’s talking directly to her creator and leaving nothing to chance. I love in a recent RS interview she says “He writes arguments. He writes grievances. He doesn't write any love stories.” And as I listen to this record I get exactly what she’s saying. It’s not poetry, no, these are very much the 95 Theses Luther nailed to the Church’s door. “Mama, You Been On My Mind” gets under your skin and refuses to go anywhere. I recently lost my mother and this song will now live inside of me until I expire. “Ain’t Talkin’” has the excess skin flayed from its back of transgression and tribulation and the results are stark, unfunny and harrowing to say the very least especially when followed by a “The Times They Are A-Changin’” that I’ve never heard the likes of before. Many have covered this song, but few have truly uncovered what these words are actually reporting. This song is more than a plea, it’s an evocation and Bettye clearly understands this as the words flow out of her mouth like unanswered prayers from on high. Forget religion because God will hardly recognize you when the Pearly Gates slowly open and Saint Peter gives you a moment to change your mind and actually make a difference with your unexamined life. “What Was It You Wanted” yes Bettye, Mercy! Trombone Shorty is a revelation on this song. As I listen I am taken back to Marvin Gaye and the dark night of a soul when bullets replaced words and not even “Sexual Healing” could save him. How one song transitions into the next must be heard to be believed. “Emotionally Yours” is a hymn to the servitude of real love without any back talk or sass to muddy the waters of a journey connecting hearts and minds. I find myself swooning and wanting to hear that one again as I put on my shoes so I can set out to find my one true love. Another killer transition because hearing things in chronological order makes zero sense when dealing with Bob’s extensive and excruciating catalog of hits and more hits. “Do Right To Me Baby (Do Unto Others)” is a thumb in your eye as the good book comes alive and helps every one of us make up for lost Robinson Crusoe time.  No better song to end this album than “Going, Going, Gone” another song underplayed and underappreciated from an album that deserves more love. Her growl is right in the pocket as our heartstrings are again given a good talking to before she throws you a backward glance and walks right out that door. Thank you Bettye and thank you Bob!   - Charles Cicirella 3/30/18

Nature cannot be composed.

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-03-24T15_01_44-07_00

Less guns

Less God

We’re so doomed

Waiting for them to show the condo

It’s time for me to leave

Crossroads call out to me like a frozen lake

Some poems take longer to birth

We’re all midwives in our own ways and deplorable means

Hide your eyes I am ready to flash the world my nonessentials

Less emotional baggage

Less hypocritical bullshit

We’re so out of touch

I walked the pier until the wind kicked up a howling ultimatum

Linda walked to the end and thankfully made it back to the picnic table

We were lost and then we were found, buked and scorned by lasting first impressions

Waiting for them to knock on the cell door and ask what I want for my last meal

It’s time to cozy up to the governor and pray a stay of execution is in my near future

Don’t rely upon coincidence when chaos keeps you in line with a closed fist

Charles Cicirella

2/26/18

I Want You (Strange Happenings) (For Emily)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-03-15T18_52_55-07_00

Want to write a poem for you

I hope I can pull it off

Like burning off leeches or watching The African Queen under the influence of granola

She was something special

Asked me to dance when no one else wanted anything to do with me

It was probably the only Winnie Cooper moment I’ll ever have in this one life

Let’s trade punches or kisses as In Through The Out Door plays in endless rotation like the Earth rotates around the sun

Newton had nothing on us except that he developed his theory of gravity while relying on the occult idea of action at a distance, across a vacuum, and did it while spitting in no one’s eye

Let’s face it compared to Sir Isaac we’re fucking losers or worse yet, Republicans

Want to spy you naked as I attempt to scale the trestle beneath your imaginary window

I’m not a stalker or a stuntman just a loathsome poet who never thought Corey Feldman was much of an actor even when he was oddly in vogue in the eighties

Bring back the firing squad, a cigarette and blindfold and maybe then I’ll die for this over extended country of haves and have s’mores  

Emily is an actress and an improviser of ferocious skill and wit

Someone who can trip the light fandango without even moving her pinky finger

Canada called and wants to wish us luck before they turn their enlightened backs on our divided states of amnesia

Charles Cicirella

3/15/18

Little Girl Blue (For Laura Mvula)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-03-09T13_03_30-08_00

Piano keys undress you

Suspense heightened when you smile

Lost in your elegiac escapades

Don’t wish to rely upon comfort for this poem

These words must be born from a volcano

Your sound nothing pedestrian, thank God for that

We stir in everything and anything we can think of

The kitchen sink another tool instrumental in uncovering our histories

You came onto the scene already a legend, and nothing will stop you now

Let’s begin by forgetting our a,b,c's

Let’s begin by forsaking our Gods

Let’s begin by uncovering our mouths and speaking out against everything silencing us

There’s a racket in my soul that I hear every time I turn off the television in my mind

There’s a rebellious nature that mustn’t be squelched as you wake up and walk toward the sun

Saw, heard and felt you and know I’ll never be the same again.

Charles Cicirella

3/9/18

Bucket List

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-03-09T10_22_29-08_00

I want to be there in the morning with you when you put on antiperspirant

I want to be there when you’re sitting on the toilet with your A-frame tuchus looking into the void wondering what went right and what went wrong

Your lane’s the only one worth a damn in a world of shrinking dividends

The good days are when I remind myself I’m a working poet. The bad days advance like a silent thunder, never letting up on the gas or empty, lonesome prairies

Let’s fill the unwelcomed silences with trivia bowls and trivial, unthreatening sex

I stared hard into the crystal ball and saw only broken debutantes and French revolutions gone belly up

I wish to be there with you when you find out who your biological parents are

I desire to be present when you realize your taste in men isn’t as awful as you once believed it to be

I cannot get enough of you looking so deeply into my soul that the roots of all the best parts of me are no longer thirsty or in need of plastic drugs or plastic people

Charles Cicirella

3/7/18

Burnt Umber (For Tamara)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-02-22T23_37_41-08_00

Cover the sky in smoky shyness

Walk by the water and drowned in another artist’s heavy words

One line at a time until you climb out of your madness like Spiderman

Stalled in the everyday desolation of evil flowers smelled and spat out

Normalcy coopted by orange greed and pistols popping no longer turns our stomachs

She was a good girl before she started shooting heroin into her apple pie veins

First worlds are all the shit until they’re not

Third worlds move up the ladder like a repairman on the take

I’m just another wanna be human desiring human companionship

Throw another Molotov cocktail into the unexamined crowd

Learn to do without oxygen as air pollution cleans all of our grandfather clocks

When she sat on my face and smiled I knew I could retire my bucket list for good

Uncover the hallowed ground and wish upon a heap of innocent starlings

Chase your blues away by opening the window and not jumping to your death

Let me come to you with only my words and I promise to keep you laughing

Charles Cicirella

2/22/18

Peacefully Coexist

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-02-11T07_41_34-08_00

Watching Strange Weather and eating chocolate Oreos

I am waking up to the very real possibility I’m slipping away

The truth hits me likes waves upon the craggy rocks

I cannot escape these impenetrable feelings that I have wronged myself in some way

I stopped reading my horoscope because I was tired of the future staring me in the face

The pygmy goat across the hall kept me awake morning, noon and night with its crying

I treasured the time we spent together until our treasure chest became an albatross around both of our necks

I wore a big cross and traveled down south like a pseudo gentile in search of something concrete or at the very least solid enough to keep my monsters at bay

You wore a wig hat and acted all high and mighty like a servant of God or music critic

After licking the chocolate off my fingers I took a sip of root beer and turned down the thermostat

Let’s remember who we are and that when times are tough its best to hunker down like a reformed saint

Politicians can all bite me for how little civic duty any of them are actually feeling

We peacefully coexist or we don’t it’s just that simple once everything comes out in the wash

I trusted you until I noticed the knife you had so ruefully stuck in my back

What’s the point of holding a grudge when it will only make you weaker and more susceptible to further attacks?

This loneliness haunts me like a ghost with no recompense and I am starting to believe this human stain won’t dissipate no matter how much water I pour onto my raging inferno soul

Watching from across the room as I tear myself into the littlest pieces and parts

There’s no coming back from this permanent darkness not when your brain refuses to shutoff even for just an hour or two

Let’s cut the chitchat and stop pretending the investment we’ve made into each other wasn’t real or worth its weight in gold

Pick the words that best represent you and leave the rest to chance

Making it up while you go along is about the only life plan left that makes any sense

Turn down the heat and cool yourself off in the unbearable lightness of your own being

Charles Cicirella

2/11/18

The Life and Times of a Beatnik

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-02-10T17_44_08-08_00

Desolation angels

Let’s take what’s left and try our best to keep it whole

Race across the country looking for your father

The Holy Ghost called and wants his martyr complex back

I was so bent out of shape I couldn’t get straight

All the country songs in the world won’t make me an alcoholic

I tried and I tried and still I did not fit in the skeleton keyhole

If you’re comfortable basking in someone else’s fifteen minutes there’s no hope for you

Doctor Sax

Sitting on the toilet writing your guts out while an exterminator looks for a clean needle

Living with your mother may not be all that, but when you’re cracking up it may be the very last safety net you have left

Streams of mediocrity wrap around my throat and silence my pangs for acceptance and alchemy

I desire to be free of all constraints, but I don’t wish to die if such a thing is even possible

I resist everything and everyone, but I have to admit waking up alone is getting old

I must pull my head out of my ass, but to do that I will need to discover some sunshine in my life pronto

Maybe I need to go to a library and get lost in the books before it’s too late

On the Road

When I was a kid I liked to go to 7-11 and eat a burrito on the wall outside the store

It made me feel like I was some kind of cool cat different than all the rest of the alley cats

Started to again buy frozen burritos and they do lend me some solace in these dark days

Woke up about an hour ago with that sinking feeling in my gut already taking hold

Charles Cicirella

2/10/18

Alone

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-02-07T17_59_52-08_00

Listening to Craig Firsdon read one of his poems

The last thing I remember is picking up black material from one of my socks

I’m alone ever since my mother passed away in October

I have no family to speak of

My friends are the only family I have and they’re all busy with their own families

Am I feeling sorry for myself? No, not really. It’s just the truth and the truth will either whip me into shape or retire me as I attempt breaking back into the human race

Craig lays it all down in the moment and I’m alone with his generous, genuine spirit

As I listen I’m reminded how it felt hearing Lincoln deliver the Gettysburg Address

Yes, I was there or I like to believe I was because when moments are marked in blood we must push through history and relive the very best parts of our future and past selves

The porn does only so much and the art fills in quite a bit, but there is still something I’m missing as I look back and see only one set of footprints in the embryonic snow

Maybe God was carrying me or maybe just maybe I’ll forever be lost in this empty space

The grieving process takes time like standing in line at the airport or sinking your teeth into a juicy steak

Charles Cicirella

2/7/18

I Woke Up Screaming

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2018-02-04T20_20_15-08_00

Woke up screaming

Nobody gives a shit

You’re told to reach out if you’re feeling bad,

But what good does it do if no one picks up the phone?

I’m lost in the narcissistic membranes of synapses that pay me no mind

The only thing that has ever made one iota of sense to me is the art and the art never fails me even when I fail myself

I woke up screaming like a Barbie with no head and whose Dreamhouse is under water

It’s like I hardly exist or I exist, but only to myself behind shutters the color of coal dust

Skate on the frozen ice and pray it does not crack and swallow you whole

I’ve always believed I was brilliant, but that does not feed nor clothe me no matter how generous my daydreams are

She told me she heard my message, but that she was going through her own depression and calling would not be possible at this time

I understand we have to be our biggest champions, but sometimes self-love just ain’t enough in these claustrophobic days and nights of continual terror

Woke up wishing I were dead

Woke up with ice water in my veins

Woke up feeling like I had swallowed Charlie Brown, the football and Schroeder’s piano

Woke up and texted a friend and that only made me feel worse

I am tired of being the only one there for myself

I had a dog when I was fourteen and didn’t fully appreciate him

I’ve done things my way for as long as I can remember and it hasn’t helped me one bit

I need a change of scenery, but don’t drive so I’ll exist behind these canvas curtains and pray God hasn’t completely forgotten about me

Charles Cicirella

2/4/18