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POETIC THOUGHTS FROM BEHIND THE MASKBy ciara mucci

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Ciara Mucci
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-0530-7

Contents

The Fine Art of "The Worry".................................3Willow Tree.................................................5Crack.......................................................6Woman.......................................................8New Orleans.................................................10Dark Thoughts...............................................12Dance.......................................................14Used to Be..................................................17Soul Mate...................................................18Modern......................................................20Illusion....................................................21Lost Soul...................................................25Red Hands...................................................27Dust........................................................28Choice......................................................30Life's Challenge............................................31Fine........................................................32Moon........................................................34Winter......................................................36Time........................................................37Happy New Year..............................................39America.....................................................41Diversity...................................................43The Secret..................................................45The Search..................................................48Life........................................................49Ice Cream...................................................50My Son......................................................52The Fart....................................................56Death's Collateral Damage...................................58Thoughts My Late Husband Might Have Had.....................61The Visit...................................................62Cemetery....................................................64Pain........................................................66Intestinal Fortitude........................................69In Tribute to Li Bai........................................71The Cannibal's Meal.........................................73My Rap Song.................................................75Recipe......................................................77High Voltage Power Lines....................................79Night.......................................................82Wet.........................................................84Eve.........................................................86Mechanical Children.........................................88Blonde......................................................90Ciara.......................................................92

Chapter One

        The Fine Art of "The Worry"

    Does it make you feel alive
    To court anxiety?
    Everything,
    All the time:

    Endless inputs,
    Finding Reasons,
    Justification of your thoughts,
    Isolation to everything
    But "the worry"—

    I am tired of carrying
    This burden around.
    I want to feel light-hearted joy.
    I want to smile
    And mean it!

    I want to answer the question,
    When someone asks how I feel,

    And mean it—

    Fine
    Fine
    Fine
    Fine
    Fine!


         Willow Tree

    She fancies herself a willow tree
    Whose roots run deep
    And limbs sway freely.
    The sunshine sparkles off greened leaves
    Deceptively,
    For there is so much more to see.

    She fancies herself a willow tree.

    As darkness comes over the valley by the stream—
    She sets off running and laughing
    Mysteriously,
    Feet splashing
    Across the running water,
    Deep
    Looking for the stranger's keep.
    "Foolish mortals, come out to play! For I am different night to day—
    Enter my world of fantasy!"

    She fancies herself a willow tree.

    Dawn comes too soon and she is there,
    In stately manner with carefree air.
    The sunshine sparkles off greened leaves
    Deceptively.
    Limbs curved in jest of those
    Too blind to see.

    She fancies herself a willow tree.


       Crack

    The building has stood many centuries tall,
    With its marble floors and its logical walls.
    With precision design and cold beauty,
    It feels
    Only what it chooses,
    Only passion with steel.

    And the building sees time
    As a necessary continuum
    It can do without and do without.
    There is no need,
    For it will last forever,
    Forever without fault.

    Until one night he entered,
    A full moon shining,
    Exposing the way to her entrance,
    Highlighting her cracks.
    Oh! She does age
    And feels
    Not only what she chooses,
    Not only passion with steel.

    He saw her soul—many centuries old—
    And the passion behind the stone walls,
    Though she concealed it well and very well.
    There is no need.
    He knew and could sow.
    He planted the seed.

    And taking her hand—though it trembled with fright—
    He walked her out to the moon,
    Into the night.
    He kissed her deeply and the feeling suspended time.
    She loves,
    And with all of her soul,
    And with all of her mind.

    The building has stood many...