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Picasso at McDonald’s   super size my eyes--let the glare of Pablo’s dead desires burn my retinas, and   indelibly engrave the golden arches behind my drooping lids they will be my rainbows, with pots of dreams to order at each end   and fast food prophesies slickly sliding down yelling yellow loops through the endless blue sky     inside your hallowed halls the chopped souls of Guernica   are invisible to our eyes their stillborn screams don’t reach our ears but their torment will be assuaged by a Big Mac and large fries   they will no longer hear the shrill whistle of the German’s falling shells   the laughter of the children at play   or the other sinking sounds that get us through the day
0
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
Picasso at McDonald's--not a dream, though written while asleep
Picasso at McDonald’s   super size my eyes--let the glare of Pablo’s dead desires burn my retinas, and   indelibly engrave the golden arches behind my drooping lids they will be my rainbows, with pots of dreams to order at each end   and fast food prophesies slickly sliding down yelling yellow loops through the endless blue sky     inside your hallowed halls the chopped souls of Guernica   are invisible to our eyes their stillborn screams don’t reach our ears but their torment will be assuaged by a Big Mac and large fries   they will no longer hear the shrill whistle of the German’s falling shells   the laughter of the children at play   or the other sinking sounds that get us through the day
spysgrandson
Written by
American
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
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