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November 18, 2024
"Mes de los Muertos"

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By Charles Cicirella

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(For Bob S.)

woke up
shat out the communication breakdowns
residing deep down in my soul

he called
we discussed Bob as a preacher and instigator
I was reminded of when we first met and how likable he's always been

remove the stained glass separating us from the animals we chastise when REM sleep has us on the run
Christina M. Brooks a noble and enlightened soul carrying the burden of light so effortlessly
I'll never look at a hotel robe belt the same way again

poetry is in each and everyone of us if we choose to run with the bulls and weather the stain of stigmata and the crucifixion of man
some of us leave it all out on the field while others hold back on living because we've never been all that comfortable with the throttle beneath our lightning stroke hands
the rules of this game shifted when I spied you naked as The Beatles played their last concert up there on that roof

come down from your throne and lick me like a mother tiger licks her cubs
sometimes I become so lonely I'm afraid I won't recognize myself when I come out the other end
you taught me how to live and how to give and for that I'll always be thankful and hold somewhat of a grudge






Article © Charles Cicirella. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-02-25
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
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