Archive for the Poetry Category


Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 10, 2013 by JC Cecala

I have gone mad this winter

Stargazers wither too quickly

blood droplets decorate




by a quiet chaos

I suckled a belief outworn

like faded boots kicking

that dead white horse

I fell in love with

when I was three

Pristine Pleasure from the Cadere Innocens collection, by kikyz1313

Pristine Pleasure from the Cadere Innocens collection, by kikyz1313



Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2012 by JC Cecala

I waited for you, lips still

pretending I too knew how to be patient

when you, not a few minutes behind

did not arrive fashionably late

I sprung

to find him

budding in silence

standing in my doorway

like Janus

so closed, quiet, strong

open, wild, wrong

perfect for me then

I lapped up his misconstrued behavior

on my palette, the taste of a savior


as I savored flavors

I’d never known to be

black and white foundation

blurring into an unrecognizable shade


struggling to breathe

While I suffocated him beneath blue blankets

I awaited

twisting limber limbs within mine

trailing starved tongue

down longing spine

till I met where he divided


and undecided

like I,

Glancing over my shoulder

but in the meantime

entwining his fingers with vines

stealing history and sharing lies

quietly praying you had demised

as he became mine

January was welcomed that year

like a brilliant idea

filling hidden spaces

and traces I had not bothered to discover

they were abandoned and forgotten an innocence ago

down trodden and rotten

until I thought…

Perhaps I only needed a hand


gentle and almost aloof

perhaps optimistic within this youth

like that tooth children put under their pillows

when first finding out there is a fairy for such a great loss

and I wondered…

what happened to you?

I waited and you did not bother to show,

not a glimmering eye or a wandering wave

Yet here I stand, cradling these impossible ideas

Of your physique that towers

carved from magic of an amateur illusionist

and your humor with wit, and that perfect 10 inch dick

with those looming bedroom eyes

an intriguing scent that would sojourn

inside the traces of my lust

so recently born

starved, craving

until I devoured him whole

and in turn he crunched and crackled my bones

licked my blood

overlooked my wounds

the scars that I bore before our first full moon

I watched him gorge himself

on a feast of my body

meal of my mind, he deemed most fulfilling

love he longed for ever

though I had tossed the possibility of him

into never

onto the other side

of that opened door

as I grasped onto you,

grasp onto you

still hungry but

always willing to harbor hunger pangs



Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on September 16, 2011 by JC Cecala

White man

turns black men blue

yellow men red



European voice

I can’t hear

you over the shreiks of women





You spread your beliefs

like you spread


like STDs

small pox



my Manifest Destiny

Chokes and squeals

riddle the rhymes

of his original sonnet

stolen hymns

raided rhythms

with blue eyes

and blonde hair on it

Hey white man

this moment in time

it doesn’t belong to you

it belongs

to me

So rip

tear me

from your history pages

I am the foundation

of your golden ages

Now unabashed



and free

Half you

Half Him

100% me


Last Moon

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 1, 2011 by JC Cecala

Beneath a full moon

I lent my ears

to a man spinning syllables like spiders webs

I lent eyes

to a charming grin and ancestral sin

I gave myself

to the dank scent of cypress trees

tides crash and roar

pulling me ashore

and I sink into the blues

of my oblivion

As the sun starts to peak

I remain asleep

wrapped in the webs

dangling from your tongue

blue in Green

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 30, 2011 by JC Cecala

i left books at home

the night

i became lost and found


persuaded me

to trade my philosophies

for fantasies You promised

to make


but first i had to


your lamp

your ego

make You come


so i crossed that burning


leaving compass

behind so i could


your direction

but You had no idea how to lead

me astray

so i sit alone (now)

reading books

clutching compass while

Miles Davis blows

through my radio

and it sounds just

like your smile




now i’m not dreaming of You

as Billie cradles her blue

I’m thinking of me


you were no genial genie

in a jeweled bottle

just a green ghost

in a jar of jade

The Politics of Being With You

Posted in Poetry, Romance, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 1, 2010 by JC Cecala

I’m not interested in the politics of being with you

I didn’t sign up for televised debates

rallies or speeches or opposing candi-


are what I wanted

Discussions about Plutarch and

Emily Brontë

or The Divine Comedy by Dante

Not the whys and why nots

the maybes and what ifs

when we haven’t even tackled

the anatomy of this



whatever this is

because I’m sort of like a mistress

stealing tongue, teeth, lips, and kisses

from someone who’s married to themselves

yet you want to question me

like I’m guilty, guile, and on trail

but I don’t recollect us walking down the aisle

still, you want to check the numbers in my phone like an audit

but wait a minute, you never put a fucking ring on it

So what do you want from me?

To be thankful because you text every now and then

try to beg me into bed but um, remember, we’re just friends

I won’t spend my Saturdays and Sundays

suffocating in your sheets

then wonder what you’re doing for the rest of the week

because I’m not interested in the politics of being with you

I didn’t sign up for radio interviews

or press conferences broadcasted on Fox news

all I really wanted to do

was become better acquainted over tofu

maybe Thai, Italian or even Swiss fondue

I wanted to buy that red shirt because I know

you’d like the way it hugs my shoulders

but trying to sway you is like trying to move boulders

and yes, at one time your scent made me smolder

but now I’m getting colder and that red shirt

shivers into a shade of cerulean

and all I have left of us

is yesterday, remember when

being together meant just that




But now everything I say

is to defend myself

and everything you do

is so you can commend yourself

But I don’t care about some silly title

I don’t just want to be a boyfriend

for sake of the claim

just to have the name

so if we hate it and it ends

I can say I had you back then..

And I’m not sure what it is

maybe the words lodged

in your throat

are making you choke

better cough them up quick

I don’t know the heimlich

and I never really said it

but it’s not hard to decipher or connote

you know I’m not here to win the popular vote

so perhaps the chatter of

him, her, they, them and those two

have made you paranoid

and scattered your askew

point of view

But like I said before

and after this, I’m through..

I’m not interested

in the politics

of being

with you

Looking for Something to Keep Me Warm ‘Cause This T-Shirt Will Never Do

Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on November 14, 2010 by JC Cecala

I don’t remember you coming in

But I found your toothbrush in my bathroom

Blue stripes on its handle, spring

wrapping around my slender frame, holding me

squeezing so tightly I popped and out flew your name

but you aren’t here

in my bedroom

your white t-shirt remains

sprawled on the floor

remnants of your scent lifting


reminding me that I want nothing more than to be




Burning with thoughts and ideas

…I’d swear you left your Fruit of the Looms here on purpose

and my glitter and glow from the night before is dusted on pillow cases

door knobs

nude walls

No longer

on my arms

on my ankles

on my eyelids

revealing the bare essence of me

And I bet you wear it on the bottoms of your feet traipsing through the city

cutting corners, catching specks of that golden glory glistening, from the side of your carnivorous eye while…I look at your t-shirt

White as the first winter

Your milky skin pressed against mine

The teeth that left trails on the slopes, peaks, and valleys that make you

White like the bones I’ll become if I stand here much longer, starving for clues

So I part my lips to say “I am done”

…Where did I put my tongue? In the back pocket of your blue jeans, along with the moans that escaped you from the previous night

And where did I place my eyes, stashed inside your black Ralph Lauren blazer

But all you do is dig deep into those pockets

real deep

Your fingers scratching corners, keeping warm as I shiver

…looking at your white t-shirt

looking for something to keep me warm

‘cause this t-shirt will never do

And while you use me

to cushion your leather shoes

like I have a Dr. Scholls imprint carved onto my chest

I waste away

I think of you

Thinking of me?

Creeping with he?

I won’t wait to see

So if you would be so kind

as to bring me back the pieces of me you took

without my permission

I’d really appreciate it

That way

You can pick up your underwear, your toothbrush,

that damn shirt and your unspoken words

they’ll be waiting for you in the trash can

the black one, closest to the curb