A thousand tiny communists pour out of the maternal hole; but one, one single enterprising capitalist, drunk and doped on self-satisfaction, has found gallons and gallons of ‘me-time’ in the tiny ecstatic moments of consumer oblivion. I should like to get that one, that little yum-yummer stuck still atop the sugar cube, open him up and take a look at his workings, find the broken wheel or cog and set him right.
Flames are licking the green aefnung licking at the screams and the yells and the mournful cries to God to Lucifer to mOthers and fathers to children to Jesus to tables and chairs; to brothers to sisters to monsters to angels to fate and to freedom to paths and to pathos to light to darkness to life and to death. All of us strangers on the outside; all of us stranger still on the in.
Poor ol’ Jan. Ol’ Janny-jan. Ol’ Ylang-ylang. A touch uppish, in his youth, so I’m told; a touch nose in the airish, cock of the walkish, until one day, suddenly all of a sudden, he went barking, stark-staring mad. O poor ol’ Ylang-ylang, he was locked up a trillion trillion miles from here in a madhouse on the surface of the sun; he would cry and howl at the moon for years and years and years, until, one fine pinpoint razor-sharp day, amidst the floo and the flutter of loony tunies sing singing for their supper, he had it away on his toes. A virtual shipwreck when I found him; a virtual roman ruin.
We must leave soon – immediately! There will only be more of them outside later on, and if Janny-boy is scared now he for sure will be terrified later. Where is that tin hat? Where o where is that tinny tin hat, protector of the thought organ?
Eyes, unwilling to look-for – eyes, falling back lazily to the army of reds waving along the skirting board. Poor lytel hedonist. No more drone droning for that one. Misplaced lytel libertine, feasting on his own freedom, will stew and be boiled in his own self-satisfaction; will rot away, rot, rot, rot, away!
-Where is that damn hat?
Damn, I don’t know what to say. You’ve crammed so much food for thought in a few hundred words, and done it with some fascinating flair, “lytel”, “thought organ”. Very nice. I can get more into this part of Meat & Bone and roam around the words and sentences; the other parts I struggle with, but this one I don’t for some reason.
i am glad you like this one. However, it needs some work.