EverydayAngelKarie
Joined: 07 Mar 2007
Posts: 761
Location: Lakewood, CA
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Street Babbler
(note: this is more strange than it is funny)
Phonetics in Necropolis don’t amount to nothin’. Hogwash and pig latin. Ixnay on the upidstay. Simple
numerals in the textbook of the gardeners. The kindergardeners. Killdren. Kindred lil' kiddies
eating boxes of Cheerios and saying “Cheerio!” while holding fibrous circles of healthy,
ultra-puffed rice rings over their eyes. No added sugar. No fat content. Only
microscopic little specs of whole wheat. Soggy when wet, soggier when
orphans suck on them like pacifiers. Those poor little scum, they
never even stand a chance. But they do their best, yes?
Overachievers, really. Considering all of the sad
underlying baubles of fear they digest,
‘lil raconteurs when they age.
Test their fluency and
raise those ‘lil
apples.
My, my. Such a sad world we live in. Almonds. Walnuts. Peanuts. They are all the same in the middle,
iconic really. Consider the riots we’ve seen in those countries. Zoot-suit suited single-breasted
cancer survivors, men and women mind ya, screaming on street corners and throwin’
rocks at totalitarian vehicles like they isn’t there to protect but to harm. Idiots.
Often I wonder, what kind of nuts might they be. The crazy kind? And I
solute their attempt to change the government but it’s all just a
colorful rainbow turning grey in the end. Simple math.
Octogons and parallelograms. Nothing close to
pi. March 14th is supposed to be special
in the country, but all I feel is
central heat in Winter.
Summer brings
infestations of cockroaches to their beaches. N’ what about their breaches? Their coats? Moth-balled
like Swiss cheese. Excuse my cough. Goddamned handkerchief, covered in blood splats already.
Icicles of silica, I’ve been told, dwell in my lungs. It’s alright though, I’ve always had pain
clouding my point-of-view. Arthritis and such. I coulda’ been a fuckin’ Olympian.
Omniscient. Buddhist even. Blast it all! Those bloody wankers with their
violent obsession with striking. I coulda’ mined coal. Raised my
older brotha’s and sista’s and given ‘em milk money. I
love m’ family, y’know. I coulda’ given ‘em pet
canaries, maybe even woodpeckers,
and bread to feed their ‘lil baby
ninnies. Their eyes wide
open at the site.
Carnivorous meals even! And I do mean, carnivorous! Meat on the table daily and nightly. Plates with
opaque slabs of pulled pork and fat sticks of butter. One for every person in m’ family. Simple
noodles and cabbage water don’t pay the bills for long. Y’know what I’m sayin’, yes?
I just want to help. Don’t mind my judgments. I know that chicken broth n’ gravy
over mashed potatoes is not something to complain about. But let’s put it
simply. I’ll die soon. It really won’t be much of a help, but when
I do, could y’ give my groceries to those orphans
seethering in their saliva overseas?
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