Daddy

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2020-02-13T15_06_26-08_00

We’re not close

I wish that wasn’t the case

He can only be close to one person at a time

My mother warned me

I still had to find out for myself

No big surprise she was right and I let her down big time

Never forget the night I caught him watching Apocalypse Now and him admitting it was his favorite movie

After my parent’s divorce I was his best friend until he started meeting women and he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough

To this day he won’t speak to me about the past; every time I try he says I need to accept responsibility like he played no part in fucking me up

We need to be able to express our feelings without being shut down because safe space or no safe space, keeping everything pent up is death

Nay-sayers can go to hell because look at the spot we’re now in after political correctness repeatedly screwed us and party unity drives us farther and farther apart

My mother always said my father needed a drill sergeant and that she was tired of being that person

I wish my father and me were closer

The last time he came up from Florida he couldn’t even be bothered to take me to the emergency room

I shouldn’t be surprised though because just getting him to take me on a bike ride through the park when I was a kid was like pulling teeth

Charles Cicirella

2/13/20

Mommy

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2020-02-12T14_40_33-08_00

Thinking about my mother a lot lately.

Maybe I’m finally grieving.

I honestly don’t know.

She was as tough as they come.

The only person I’ve ever feared.

Her love something her children still seek.

She didn’t like for me to go to her doctor appointments, but on that particular day she needed help getting into Marcia Green’s car so we decided it was best I come along.

In one split second everything changed and I’m still picking myself up from off of the floor.

My mommy is dead and it’s a score I must settle with myself before I can ask my creator why he killed the person who created me.

Thinking about my mother a lot lately.

Her ashes are still here with me because I cannot think of anywhere she’d be completely at peace.

My siblings were jealous of me from the day I was born because my mother and I always shared a special bond that no one outside of our bubble could possibly comprehend.

My sister only visited my mother once when she was sick and my brother never spoke to her because holding onto his anger must have been more important than blood and atonement.

I was named the executor of her estate because she must have known that I was her only child who wouldn’t sell her out and understood that her wishes were sacrosanct.

She’d stay in the bathroom for hours on end when we were kids reading, doing the crossword and talking on the phone because I believe that was the only place she felt safe and could dictate things on her own terms with absolutely no blowback from anyone.

Charles Cicirella

2/12/20

Lines

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2020-01-15T12_40_20-08_00

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

1/15/2020

Fay Wray and King Kong (For K.)

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/charlespoet/episodes/2020-01-13T01_15_35-08_00

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

1/13/2020