The Opposite of Uncertainty

The Opposite of Uncertainty

Closing our eyes from the glare of too much
said and unspoken, breathing in exhalations.
My God -- we fell together because of gravity.

Feathers from flying doves reach the ground
due to earth-forces that do not rely on thought.
So. What were we thinking when we landed?

Let me speak for myself on this, in retrospect.
We were thinking of the opposite of uncertainty.
Of moons that never wane. And an eternal orbit.

Even in the night, it has always been daylight.
Would you agree? We need not squint today
as the shudder passes through. Everything yes.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

Expectations

Expectations

Because she did what was always expected of her
she was well-received by everyone. No doubt.
But then a great flame in her died at a certain point.
She was known as a marvel, a great success early on,
until marrying a man that could stifle bonfires with his words.
In retrospect I regret never declaring my own feelings.
I loved the pilgrim soul in this girl.

I loved the pilgrim soul in this girl.
In retrospect I regret never declaring my own feelings.
Until marrying a man that could stifle bonfires with his words
she was known as a marvel, a great success early on.
But then a great flame in her died at a certain point.
She was well-received by everyone. No doubt
because she did what was always expected of her.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

Al Dente

Al Dente

How will it look on a serious envelope. I swear this was my first thought when I moved from the far more respectable sounding Maryanne Avenue, and performed the necessary address changes required. To make matters worse, the number of my flat was 123.
123 Noodle Street.
Who lives at such a place? Curious George?
Clifford the Big Red Dog? Ernie and Bert?
I'm a lawyer, for God's sake!
Still unpacking boxes I received a letter from my mother, in which my greatest fears were realized.
She told me to throw all unrecognized mail at the nearest wall. 
If it sticks, son, open it. If not…. cook it for three more minutes.
I wrote back the same day.
Dear Mom:
Often, in my arduous, sweat be-drenched days of courtroom litigation I comfort myself in the reminder that in this cruel world I have at least one person that will be my protector. My rock. My lighthouse in the storm. Oh, mother -- even you have let me down. Even you, even you, are not quite al dente. 

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

Every Fifth Line

Every Fifth Line

Feeling that you are the only one.
Knowing that no one understands.
You can do life better than others.
One day I will be recognized as me.

Until then --

People, the normal ones, the stupids
will believe the sun revolves the earth.
That if you sail far enough, you fall.
But for the round shape of your head

all is square.

Hey smartypants! Listen to someone!
We all started out as a human zygote
just this side of a swinging chimpanzee.
And from there, we invented Q-Tips.

All the while --

the very atoms looking into the telescope
might as well be on the comet observed.
Slivers in an arrived ship pulled from a finger.
The problem is our need of pronouns.
 
we have no shape at all.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

All Trains Are Serious

All Trains Are Serious

Have a good look at the ways we get around.
There is almost no limit to the sudden variations.
Hyphens on a highway say next to nothing about veering.
We just listen to the radio and hope everyone pays attention.
What is a mid-Pacific squall, or even the next big wave, to a ship?
Captains pulling their hair out. Drinks and children overboard.
Let's no one even get into an airplane for God's sake.
Because in the clouds there are not even the hyphens.
Truth is, your neighbor stepped out of bounds while jogging
and was struck dead by that out-of-control horse and carriage.

Then there are trains. And no one can blame the environment.
Admittedly, they are as prone to accidents as anything else.
But seriously -- they were perfectly on course when it happened.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

Monarch

Monarch

Which came first, the butterfly or human royalty?
What is the etymology of the entomology?
Dictionaries relegate insects to a secondary meaning.
For my money, they should be first.

This -- this one-tenth of an ounce -- this bug
navigates its way to a certain mountain in Mexico
every third generation. From Canada.
Powered by milkweed and true monarchial instinct.

Prince Charles, chauffeur-driven via the best GPS
would end up in New Jersey. Holed up in a five-star.
Exhausted and complaining of the room service.
Not to mention Henry the 8th. Whence did it originate?

Was it an awe-filled scientist, breathlessly declaring:
This -- this is the epitome of what humanity should revere.
Or was it a servant in the shadows of a castle whispering:
Everyone here is as majestic as... those butterflies!

God help us, and be damned all language
if it was that secondary thing.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

Lava

Lava

It is amazing, the flagrancy we humans will expend
for a momentary thrill. Take a fireworks display.
Have any two people walked away from a night of bursts
and discussed a single one in detail? Evaluated it?

But it was somehow enjoyable en masse.
One will explode in a brilliance of red. The next, white.
And there was the happy face. And then the hearts.
The climactic crescendo -- a conflagration of expenditure.

And we make our way back to the car. Everyone does.
But when you and I get in ours, a certain electricity tells me -
There has never been an invention of man, to match
what happens when you erupt - It is not red, it's crimson.

Lava.
There is no smoke rising from the heat of your body
when I kiss you back down to earth. On our new island.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

The Smell Of It All

The Smell Of It All

I
recall leaning forward to the envelope. If anything
bought
my suspicion it was that. For all appearances
you
had failed to send it off. I'd every intention of doing
that
for you. But oh, the scent was rising. And then, the
very
name, uttered in your dreams at night appeared, the
fragrance
seeping through. All within me screamed, This is the
last
thing I want to do to you. Invading the privacy of your
Christmas
cards. What kind of a man would do this? I opened it.
And
what did I find, my darling? The unfathomable act of
you
betraying me. The smell was now ugly. Words inside
sent
astray, the last breach of integrity. You love him?
It
is to end this way? Want him to smell my gift to you?
To
"be in his arms, on New Year's Eve"? You wish to be with
him?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --