1. |
Joni
03:19
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Joni
She slices directly into my soul
The turpentine fumes could have killed us and I wouldn’t have cared
Dying next to her would have been a fucking privilege I swear to God
Her voice sings out for the genocide of the Native Americans
Crazy Horse-spirits and Vincent-ghosts swirl around her sleeping fairy body
You want divinity well then give her a chance and she will deliver tenfold
Everything comes down to the imprecise cuts of a blunt pair of dressmaking shears
That’s life for you saved up for retirement then get cancer and die alone and miserable
Her paint strokes are roars of unbridled otherness and her empathy beats your apathy every single time
She taught me that the teachers are the children not the adults in the windowless room
She brought me to a jumping off place I best get used to before vertigo sets in
She showed me her birthday suit and I showed her my Daisy Red Ryder BB Gun
Don’t forget to stop pretending when you’re finally escorted through the Pearly Gates
Don’t forget to forgive yourself once the priest has finished tampering with your childproof cap
Don’t forget to start living before it’s too late and the stores have all closed and the trains have all stopped running and hitchhiking to the Temple Mount is no longer a viable alternative
Charles Cicirella
3/11/16
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2. |
I'm Losing It
02:40
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I’m Losing It
Title keeps going through my head
Which can mean only one thing
A poem is coming and I best get out of the way
Resistance is futile when the muses decide it’s your turn to take out the trash
And the last time I was raked over the coals I rather enjoyed the humiliation
This is not the end, no it’s just the beginning and don’t worry we’ll make more once we run out of bullets and those little finger sandwiches
I’m losing it
Losing it over the big things that really aren’t all that important like not getting to go to a bunch of Bob Dylan shows this summer or going and not being front row
I keep trying to keep myself in check, but that’s mighty difficult when quicksand is the only place left to stand tall
I’ll write this poem and then I’ll send it to a friend who will record some music for it and make it even better than it originally was when I nearly died of exposure and the alphabet stopped making sense
I keep worrying what if my poetry is not up there on a whole other level than I remind myself it’s about actually doing the work and not about the celebrity that may someday arrive in a puff of secondhand smoke
We all daydream of better days to come; the secret is to not become a slave to those daydreams or allow the silver linings to get you in a chokehold and break more than just your spirit.
Charles Cicirella
3/13/16
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3. |
There Is A Cost
03:31
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There is a Cost
(For Ted Kane & Russ Van Rooy)
There is a cost for everything won and everything lost.
There is a cost for those we have forsaken and those who have forsaken us.
There is a debt paid and a price waged on not owning up to the blood on our hands.
There’s a cost for patent disregard and for counting our chickens before they hatch.
There’s a cost for taking everything and everyone for granted.
And when we least expect it there will be a burying and a raising of the dead.
I was astonished at how you improve my words with the flick of a guitar string.
I was transfixed with how you lend my writing a newfound sense of determination.
And there will be a reward for everything you have done for me in this life.
There’s a rigmarole.
There’s an easing into the chaos.
And there are wars that will be battled and battles that must be endured.
There is a cost for directions misdirected and a reward when we pay it forward.
There is a cost for all this cadaverous theology laid out before us like the body electric.
There’s a moral imperative pushing us ever onward to the outer reaches of interspace.
Charles Cicirella
3/17/16
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4. |
L and E
01:38
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L and E
this life experience
is not ironclad
and it’s not inspired
and it’s creeping up on me
like a serpent or a plague
this life experience
doesn’t take names
and it doesn’t discriminate
and it refuses to give you any breaks
like a charity or a saint
and she asked we when was the
last time i had a real job
and she asked me what my plans were
and i refused to answer her questions
because it is none of her goddamn business
this life experience
is rusted shut
and it itches and it burns when i pee
and it doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor
like a statistic or WASP
and i’ll probably never hear from her again
which is a good thing because she was boring
and i’ll miss her falling asleep on the phone
and how i lied when she asked if she snored
because it’s not always about you
-
and the white lies are oftentimes what keep
the boat from sinking into
the big muddy
charles cicirella
3/30/16
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5. |
TK
02:35
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TK
composing music
to his wordage
listening to Portishead
thinking about when we
recorded her bloody poetry
then fucked on dirty sheets
his guitar tears into my muse
like a machete through the jungle
and it leaves me on the floor screaming
and i am a fetus unexplored and sponge like
listening to Neko Case
our conversations draw me in and spit me out
they supply me with proof of life
when feeling overwhelmed and lost in translation
his reversals of misfortunate adulation are a bank shot
into the reservoirs of imaginings fraught with peril
and I find myself at a loss for words when you emerge
from the shadowy depths like a picaroon or sea rover
composing titanic silences
to his four chambered cadenzas of clear-cut change
Charles Cicirella
4/1/2016
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6. |
By the Grace
07:10
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By the Grace
Drink the cold, unforgiving coffee
Drink it up like it’s the very last beverage you will enjoy
Before they strap you down on the gurney and take your life
For crimes you did not actually commit
We would sit there for weeks on end
Him on the computer in the dining room playing solitaire
Then out of virtually nowhere he would stand up
And start devising his next recorded manifesto
It was his escape hatch
The only thing that made any actualized sense to him
I’d be upstairs typing away like a blind chicken on his Remington
Or maybe I’d be lying on the couch in the front room stoned, reading Philip K. Dick
I’m not dropping names
No, that isn’t what this is about
And even if you gave me your name I still couldn’t fit in
By the Grace a Forever Low Man hung himself because he had nothing better to do that shambolic afternoon
Most people don’t get it and never will
They don’t understand paying tribute to a man who was the other half of my creative brain and taught me to do the work like I have six months left to live
Or maybe they refuse to accept how he exited on his own negotiate nothing terms
And me I just want some long overdue justice for all of those friends who went into a Taco Bell bathroom to never come out again
By the Grace I will find my footing and again feel the sand between my toes
You could probably care less what I’m thinking, but I’m going to tell you anyway
I’m thinking that creative zeitgeists don’t come along all that often and that when they do we better take advantage of the free electricity they give unto us like a plague of locusts
I’m thinking about that stale doughnut and how I should have dunk it into the cold, unremitting coffee and how it’s now too late as another shimmering opportunity goes up in lackadaisical smoke
Charles Cicirella
4/10/16
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7. |
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This is Our Bounty
(For La Charity)
And it appears before us like a shimmering light
And it devours our insatiable hunger
And it shuts us down when no amount of political correctness will clear away all this wretched debris from a thousand or more years of doing only what’s convenient
And this was the first God we killed, but it won’t be our last
And the devil is in the details when the proof in the pudding has gone to pot
And I resisted you for as long as I possibly could then I accepted a minimum wage job and went the way of cowards, thieves and tax collectors
And you wanted it all
And you would not settle even when settling was your best possible move
And this is our bounty no matter how shabby and worn out the pieces are
And our eyes capture only darkness if our souls are on the blink
And do you recall when we were kindling and the ovens whispered our sacred names
And I call shotgun because riding with you into the sunset is all I’ve ever wanted when my back was up against the wall and the corner I’ve painted myself into cries uncle
And it appears before us like a divining rod or bowl of split pea soup
And they stole Andy’s canned art, but they’ll never steal his impish sense of humor or the way he fucked fame sideways because he didn’t believe in taking a day off
And we’ll lose ourselves if we’re not careful and muck around too long on the indignity of death and the raising of the last beatnik
Charles Cicirella
4/13/16
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8. |
a monopoly of words
05:34
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a monopoly of words
words just out of reach
i can almost touch them
can almost taste them
on the back of my achilles heel
people often like
the shit you cannot abide
weird how that works out
and doesn’t work out
-
when everything’s breaking down
and universal support is another
hacking cough
words drummed out of me
on account of always having
too much to say
until i’m in a room with strangers
-
strangers leave me speechless
strangers don’t get me
and i don’t get strangers
a monopoly of words
of sludge
of rudimentary rubbish
-
another rubicon gone belly up
another rimjob
minus the asshole
and the words
are just out of reach
i am not done trying
i am not through
-
making a mockery
out of this crucifixion
you pray to on an
endless loop
charles cicirella
4/19/16
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9. |
Purple Pain
02:44
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Purple Pain
You always knew what to say
And how to say it
At least that’s how it seemed
-
And I am typing this poem in purple
Because it feels like the right thing to do
And I can’t believe you’re gone so soon
Purple pain rains down from an exhausted sky
And I’ll never forget seeing Under the Cherry Moon
At the Severance theater with David Molinaro
And how even though I thought the film was awful
You never failed to blow my mind
Because your presence would not be contained
Even on a movie screen your essence busted at the seams
I just realized today that you were the Beatles for people around my age
And now you’re gone and “Sometimes it Snows in April”
And sometimes the only thing falling from the sky are tears
You always knew how to express the deepest of emotions
And the music poured out of you at an alarming rate
At least that’s how it always seemed
-
And I am at a loss for purple words
Because even this royal hue cannot explain away this loss
Because you are a super nova and I swear the likes of you
Will never be experienced again
Because “Sometimes it Snows in April” and sometimes
The only thing falling from the sky are purple tears
Charles Cicirella
4/23/16
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10. |
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Everything and Nothing at All
I gave up the ghost the other night shot it
Right into my hand and it felt amazing while
It lasted then I lost all interest and ate a pint
Of Ben & Jerry’s Cake My Day Ice-cream
And there’s really nothing more to share
Because I jumped the shark a long time ago
And I’m not all that sorry because shit happens
To bad and good people alike and some die of
Cancer while others overdose on life
And I hardly think I am a poet and I know I’m
Not a prophet maybe all I am is a pain in the ass
As I turn more and more into a curmudgeon and
The word irascible is the only adjective that fits me
You can pretend nothing affects you and no one
Challenges you, but when the Swiss cheese hits the
Fan and you’ve fallen and can’t get up you’ll wish
There was a button to push because the idea of no one
Coming to your aid is too scary a notion to swallow on
An empty stomach
A dark night of the soul might scare the bejesus out
Of you or it might just force you to face the memories
That continue to confound you as everyone ceases and
Desists from answering your private messages on FB
And you slip into unconsciousness
Charles Cicirella
4/27/16
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11. |
Zippo
01:39
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Zippo
(For Darin Bulai)
Light yourself on fire
Just do it
It’ll be fun
And you can
Tell your kids
About it
And you can
Act like
You have
-
All the questions
Pour the kerosene
Over what passes
For entrails today
We’re all roadkill
In one vestibule
Or another
-
We’re all dispassionate
When push comes
And the martyr
-
Refuses to absolve you
Of your synergy
I snorted infinity
Up both nostrils
I did it on a dare
-
I did it
Because I was bored
And Einstein dared me to
Light yourself on fire
It’ll be like the old days
When shit came out
-
And wouldn’t
Go back in
So tirelessly
Charles Cicirella
4/29/16
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12. |
FUCK YOU MEDIOCRITY!
02:49
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FUCK YOU MEDIOCRITY!
She’s a witchdoctor
Heaven sent from the bowels of hell
And I’m questioning everything
Because oftentimes the grip you have
Is not the grip you keep a hold of
And I was swimming in the deep end
Before remembering I don’t know
How to swim and nearly drowned
Before I was saved by a mermaid
Whose tiny breasts kept me afloat
And mediocrity fucked me in the ass
Without my consent or compliance
It just came out of nowhere and I’m
Feeling ashamed and dirty and unsure
How I feel showing my face in public
She’s a spin-doctor
The kind of general practitioner who keeps
You coming back for more as she heals you
With her voodoo and keeps you unhinged
With her untiring unwillingness to please
And I was climbing the highest mountain
Before remembering I was scared of heights
When I looked down everything became blurred
And I felt myself slipping before a raven scooped
Me up in their black wings and flew me away
And mediocrity will never get the best of me
Because my ego comes with its own pump
And when I look inward I’m sure to keep my
Eyes closed because things that go bump in the
Night still scare the crap out of me
She’s a sorcerer, a lion tamer, a Glitter-Witch
Sure to blow your mind with her poisoned apple
Poems and menstrual blood murals and I’m sure to
Return from the silver lined clouds once I figure out
Why I’m questioning myself so insidiously
Charles Cicirella
5/1/16
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13. |
You'd think by now
01:58
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You’d think by now
You would think by now
I’d be used to people not
Caring for my personality
You would think by now it
Wouldn’t affect me so much
When not included and yet it
Still hurts like the dickens
And I nearly burned the place
To the ground and if I hadn’t
Gone back upstairs everything
Would have gone up in smoke
Including my dog Bogie
You would think by now
I’d stop giving so much of a damn
And would just accept my loner
Status as a badge of honor and
Not as a Scarlet Letter
You’d think by now I would stop asking
For rides and get it through my thick
Skull that it’s their loss not mine those
Who don’t want me around
And I nearly went to hell when
Sacrificing everything for the words
I believed would save me and the
Words can only do so much when your
Grave is covered in dirt and grime
Charles Cicirella
5/4/2016
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14. |
Discordant Modality
02:50
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Discordant Modality
EATING A DOUGHNUT
CAN’T DO ANYTHING QUITE RIGHT
I DON’T NEED A RIDE
YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR DISHEVELED LIMO
UP YOUR DUCKMAN ASS
THE DOUGHNUT STARTED TO TALK TO ME
SAID I WAS A PRETTY GIRL AS IT BIT INTO MY BOTTOM LIP
AND SAID HOW DO YOU LIKE IT YOU SON OF A BITCH
AS I HUNGER FOR HIS DISCORDANT MODALITY
BECAUSE THIS COFFEE AIN’T DOING ME ANY GOOD
NEVER FORGET WHEN MY FATHER DROPPED THE
SUITCASE DOWN IN FRONT OF ME AND SAID EITHER
YOU LEAVE OR I’M GONNA BLOW MY BRAINS OUT
AND ALL I COULD THINK WAS HOW HIS GREEN EGGS AND HAM BRAINS WOULD LOOK COVERING THE WALLS
PEOPLE SEEM TO BE MAKING LESS AND LESS ALLOWANCES FOR OTHERS
IT’S AS IF THE ENTITLED AND SELF-RIGHTEOUS HAVE BECOME THEIR OWN SUBSECT AND I AM FED UP WITH EVERYONE GIVING EVERYONE ELSE THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT BUT ME
YES IT’S TRUE I DO OFTEN FIND MYSELF ARGUING WITH THE WORLD, BUT
THAT HARDLY MEANS I AM THE ONE CONSTANTLY AT FAULT AND THE CRAZIEST PART IS PEOPLE DON’T BELIEVE I SEE MYSELF FOR WHO I AM WHEN IN FACT I HAVE BEEN SEEING MYSELF QUITE PLAINLY AND QUITE RECKLESSLY FOR AS LONG AS I HAVE BEEN BREATHING IN THE INNOCUOUS AIR
EATING A DOUGHNUT
KNOWING EXACTLY HOW IT FEELS “TO BE WITHOUT A HOME, LIKE A COMPLETE UNKNOWN, LIKE A ROLLING STONE”
AND I MISS WHEN YOU’D HAND ME A JOINT AS WE SPIED THE ENORMOUS RED MOON OVER THE CAUTIOUS HORIZON, BUT I’LL SOON GET OVER THAT BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH I BELIEVED WE WERE FRIENDS YOU OBVIOUSLY FELT THAT PLAYING MIND GAMES WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN GETTING DOWN TO THE BUSINESS OF BONDING AND MAKING UP FOR EONS OF LOST AND IRREVERSIBLE TIME
Charles Cicirella
5/14/16
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15. |
Energizer Bunny
02:54
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Energizer Bunny
Life begins
Life ends
It’s not up to us
Until it is
And they’re on their way
To the desert to scatter her sister’s ashes
And tragedy is all around us so are miracles
When we stop seizing on foregone conclusions
And I knew she was a poet the first time we met
There was this magical glint in her eyes
That spoke to me of a thousand years of love
And when the love turned to hate she got out of Damascus
The Energizer Bunny isn’t a toy or a religious artifact
It will beat you to the punch every time with its
Furry paws and redolent way it has of always knowing
When to push the river and when to say Geronimo
Death is not the end
At least that’s the word on the street paved in shimmering gold
It’s not up to us
Until it is
And I cannot wait till she reads my Tarot
Because I am convinced she holds all the cards in this friendship
Of super heroes and drag queens gone straight then crooked again
Please don’t light the incense it makes me sick to my stomach
And I knew she was a High Priestess the first time we broke bread
It was the way she looked straight through me with the efficacy of a
Thrift store Saint
And too many people blame others for the problems they’ve created
But Leah is way beyond all that as she adjusts the rearview and presses her sandal down On the gas pedal
Charles Cicirella
5/18/16
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16. |
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The hits just keep coming
(For D.B.)
I’m not going to say his name
This isn’t Harry Potter
Still I refuse to spill the beans
You want hard luck
Read some John Fante
I was never all that impressed, but that hardly means anything because I’m pretty damn sure Bukowski was onto something when he waxed poetic about this relic of dust and brick
It doesn’t matter
I’ll take more allergy medicine
And I will feel better for another eight hours
The hits just keep coming
Think of me as an abused poet who needs to go to a poet shelter and beat this addiction to words and the silence quaking between the consonants and vowels
Vanya White and Pat Sajak will come and give some life affirming presentation about how they have no problem being just another sellout on the puzzle board of life
Let’s not bother with names
Or professions
Or why we find ourselves wishing we were better gamblers and didn’t believe so resolutely in doing our abandoned and forsaken work
I was a “King Bee” before I gave up the sweet taste of honey for more mundane and less inspired tasks
Now I play at a Holiday Inn in my mind on the weekends and keep things interesting by playing Russian roulette like Johnny Ace did before one auspicious bullet slowed him down for ever after
And never forget I loved you when you were nothing and will continue to love you when you’re trace energy because there is nothing like the supernatural to keep one guessing and on their toes
Charles Cicirella
5/25/16
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17. |
Spew
02:12
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Spew
I
Thought
I
Would
Spew
Back
At
You
Even
Though
You
Stopped
Listening
Because
I
Guess
That
Is
Easier
Than
Hearing
An
Opinion
Different
Than
Your
Own
You
Talk
About
How
I
Was
Degrading
Your
Character
When
In
Reality
The
Only
Character
Assassination
Happening
Was
To
My
Character
As
You
Ran
Me
Through
The
Perpetual
Ringer
And
Made
Me
Feel
Worse
Than
I
Already
Did
I
Know
You
Are
Still
Not
Pleased
With
How
I
Acted
When
We
Dated
But
Enough
Is
Enough
As
You
Give
Everyone
The
Benefit
Of
The
Doubt
But
Me
As
I
Lie
Here
Like
Some
Gutted
Fish
Waiting
To
Be
Either
Wrapped
In
Newspaper
Or
Consumed
By
A
Murder
Or
Crows
Friends
Should
Be
Able
To
Have
Differing
Opinions
Without
One
Friend
Acting
Like
We
Are
Back
In
Grade
School
And
I
Checked
The
Wrong
Box
And
You
Decided
It
Was
Easier
To
Unfriend
Me
And
Pretend
I
No
Longer
Existed
Because
My
Character
Flaws
Became
More
Than
You
Could
Conceivably
Handle
I
Am
Spewing
Because
I
Cannot
Stop
Thinking
About
Your
Poisonous
Confections
And
How
Irresistible
You
Are
When
Creating
Your
Next
Book
Of
Spells
Curses
And
Incantations
I
Meant
It
When
I
Said
My
Love
Was
Unconditional
No
Matter
The
Fair
Weather
You
Continue
To
Attempt
Shoving
Down
My
Gullet
Like
A
Fistful
Of
Half
Dollars
Or
Baby
Doll
Heads
Charles Cicirella 5/29/16
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18. |
Write Through the Shit
02:53
|
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|
Write Through the Shit
(For Christina M. Brooks)
We must write through the shit to get to the gold and then we must turn our backs on the gold and believe that something even stronger will take hold
And if you build it they will come and don’t worry who they are because they know who you are and have been waiting a very long time to impress you with their tactical precision and unholy ability to never stay dead for too long
The words have existed before even God covered Eve and Adam with their very own fig leaves
In fact the words are the only hope that’s left in this tick tock world of fears and phantom limbs
It’s not a question if you have the talent because the creativity was born inside of you long before the stork delivered you to your parents
Everyone struggles with their words coming back to them in waves of mediocrity, but you must never let that stop you from speaking the truth as you see it
We must write through the shit and the shinola to get the upper hand and make an honest to God difference before the lights go out and even our memories are subject to reclassification
And I have been struggling to properly remember my dreams, but I guess that makes sense when I’ve always had a difficult time telling the difference between dreams and reality
And you have become a good friend even when we disagree because writers need to stick together and that goes double for poets who always seem to get the short end of the stick especially when the shithouse is burning down and poets are the only ones able to see through the flames to the other side of morning
Charles Cicirella
6/1/16
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