Señor Garcia Marquez Whatever did you mean When you wrote of life And of death by family I'm in love with Prudencio Aguilar's ghost Roaming about the Buendía household Hole in his throat Washing out the wound But what did you mean?! I'm in love with Do it yourself chastity belts And Ursula's fear of *** But why is this even a theory Your concept behind biracial inbreeding And Señor do not get me started On Melquíades and José Arcadio Buendía Because that friendship was Fated to be doomed I mean no disrespect in all this I just want to know Why use Macondo as an allegory For the Angel Gabriel You're genius, really But your run on paragraphs Infuriate every ounce of my writing soul You're a Columbian Tolstoy I mean that as no insult Your works are tremendous and outstanding But what am I doing You're now just an old dead man "Under the ground" So now I belong to figure out Why Pilar needs to fill a void Opened by a ****** And why Colonel Aureliano Buendía Thinks of his fond memory of ice Just before being killed I've paid my respects to your work Please pay respects to my search
Just a poem about the late Gabriel Garcia Marquez's novel *One Hundred Years of Solitude*