OLD UGLY Recording Co. - warriormusic

“There’s a fork in the outlet, there’s a butter knife in the toaster. There’s a radio poised on the bathtub ledge and it says here I come! here I come! because I always wished that I’d been born as a flaming garbage can full of tax returns and chicken bones.”

He entered the atmosphere in a flurry of pinks and blues and cyan hues. Clouds tore apart and he turned midair onto his back, watching the molten memories scurry off his hands and feet and into the rent sky behind him. He felt his back ploughing into the side of an old old mountain like an iron wing, like a glowing moon, like a second death.

He stood up and dusted himself off. He walked into a nearby town. Ran for mayor. Won. He launched an aggressive campaign against illiteracy. He left without telling anyone. Moved to Austria. Read a book on fascism. Thought perhaps he was a fascist. Met a fascist and changed his mind.
Went to the United States. Ran for president. Won. He launched an aggressive campaign for health care reform. Failed. His vice president chuckled, “it’s a problem of incentives, you see.”
He retired and went to the forest. He fought a lynx. Won. He felt terrible for what he had done to the lynx. He left the country. He taught history. It was a fake history. He made it all up. He was published as fiction. It was titled: “Do Not Cook a Young Goat In Its Mother's Milk”. He sold well. Cult success. Won.
Met a Girl. Went to Church. Lost the Girl to Illness. Cried till he couldn’t.
Stared up a lot. Stared at the sky. Didn’t shave. Went on TV. Talked about the end of the world. So much hate, he said, so much Hate. The camera man snickered. He started to twirl. He twirled like a dervish until they cut the feed and security escorted him out. “Look,” he said to the security guards, “here it comes.”
It was bigger than the sun and it only took a couple minutes to swallow the world whole like just another sleeping pill.
He was alright. He felt a little lighter. He touched his eyes and felt a good heat. He liked the new planet just fine. Everything was about heat. They didn’t believe in currency, only dancing and prayer in fullness, in glory, in the giving of glory, in all of creation, giving heat and glory and movements of the body and on and on in one’s utmost potential.
His new home-planet still rockets across the universe, policing the planets who become disoriented from this most divine intention. He never eats alone.