Saturday, May 13, 2017

From the Palace of Freedom


I decide to swing by McDonald’s
And get a McChicken.
But when I bite into it
There’s no chicken.
As McDonald’s being my first job
How hard is it to put chicken in a McChicken?
Not that difficult.


When he saw the famous painting the scream my son got very upset and said mommy I think this guy had mental problems because his paintings are his expression of saying I'm very sad and my life is hell. I want to leave because his life is very disturbing and dark. Munch art is very dark and depressing, that's how I felt, exactly like my son. I didn't know either anything about the artist but as soon I saw the first painting I knew that he had mental problems, his life wasn't happy or something was tormenting him all his life. Later that day I read his biography and I learned that mental problems ran in his family. For sure he had the same illness. Anyway, what's up with u? We have a koi pond and water snakes come to eat the fish. I'm terrified!!!


Always a crowd favorite, world systems have talent. “And in those days men shall look for death, but not find it, and they shall desire death, but death shall escape them.”  (from Revelation, Lattimore trans.) Those days are now.


You have to stay clean for the Kazakh Family Fun Center in Astana; if you’re not clean it will be vacuum cleaners at 5 a.m., or deep dives into the complicated pain of heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach and poison frogs and spiders, adults talking like adult 7th graders, talking about moving the chains with a flick of their electric wrists, or patio cover packages, or hey the sell-a-thon is on, the tensile avarice among the elite wealthy special interest tax grabbing lava lamp gooey duck tumble dry liberals; after all, pornography (porno-porn-xxx) isn’t the top three internet search terms because there’s no market.


The electric razor is in with the coffee maker, again, who’s a screamer. Or is it a sea lion pup screaming for its life that my dad is clubbering that dropped out of the sky and landed on the roof and rolled off onto the patio of our three billion bedroom, three billion bath home. A similar incident yesterday resulted in the swimming pool maintenance guy walking off the job.


Inventory clearance event goers at the Multispecies Ecosystem Megaplex suffered weight loss gains as flowering burlap glitched unexpectedly, completely covering the to do pile. Blush wine with cabriole legs had stopped breathing and turned bluish by the time emergency crews arrived. Sun and shadows lay cooing in each others’ arms on the roof while at the line of scrimmage behind the yellow tape, rabbits and Tiffany lamps watched along with the neighborhood and art work from Dahomey (the name I prefer to Benin). I’m sure the extra toothbrush and the Department of Hope and Serenity issued condoms were left out on purpose. A zero bill. 


The Palace of Freedom is now located on a dead end road in an unincorporated area of the county, just east of two infamous white trash hellholes (you needn’t be white to be white trash either, although it helps) whose limits commingle such that you don’t know where they begin or end, like Ligeti music and the traffic noise, especially the motorcycles and tractor-trailer hauling dealer level quantities of controlled substances and illegal weapons that traverse the valley on the state highway. The impersonality of it works for the recluse that I am. Earlier today there were flying saucers hovering over the valley, pure white stealth bombers, contrails, genie smoke, agate clouds.

No comments:

Post a Comment