Fred Aiken Writing

laughter is the medicine to everything that ails,

they say it is a precious asset that few hold onto

despite bringing vast intrinsic wealth to all that mine for it,

despite never being fully in stock,

I know I can never spend it quick enough,

though still I’m told to keep it close,

it’s valuable,

stock ticker HAHA,

before a gamma squeeze for the ages

birthed and fed

from a statue comes the great light blinking

a knowledge yet to be comprehended

though still compromised by

years and years of lightening passing through the grooves

of flesh stars flexing past the pasteurized fields

of blanketed blankety blankness

fresh picked from unknown sources

coded into the DNA

washing all away

ceiling fans speak volumes as they thrash

through the continuum of space ad infinitum,

as the walls break down and all that is left,

a foundation made of paper

and a fan that doesn’t seem to want to work with

electricity