#HairInTheAir
WINK, WINK, HYPERENTITY, AHO
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There are eyes on you and I, you may not like what you will find here within these thoughts
Just a warning to look away if you don’t want to know what you need to know before you die
I have an hour and a half to let you know what I know when I actually need just a minute
Miracles occur when you’re not paying attention, you have no idea that it’s all pablum for it.
It’s an answer to the mystery, why you’re here, how you used to be, to get nuts and then bolt
About the birds and the bees and the microscopic bugs and fleas smilin’ as they climb upon
My conscious awareness that fills the empty container that human species is, not my fault
You grew up without your mother or your father, now you’re a movie star, get it together son.
It is their fault that you were abandoned or ill trained by the elders in your random ape troop
From DNA’s nuclei, we’ve come to move around, pass God around & in an infinite, spirit loop
First there’s the stuff that just happens, events with nothing of themselves, a straight shooter
It may not be an answer, will of the Divine, the Way. is God’s revolution, a fake prince pauper
Morons, idiots, kings, priests, musicians, singers, actors and players, it all goes in circles
Then when the stars fell down to the ground, I put them inside of my grounded One system
Unmoved like the mover who sat tight for millennia, I am now full of the effulgence of sin
Into the future, into fire and brimstone that melts the forms down to their glowin’ sparkles.
In the court of being an outlaw with the other dirty, rotten tomatoes or apples, all of it, juice
Hurt by nobody and I hurt nobody but some want some of ‘this’ anyhow, some say it’s a ruse
It goes in one ear and goes out the other, like it or not, a hyperentity spirit turns to gold dust
I linger for your glance’s gaze, your sad eyes streaming my reflection into a dream’s bust.
This gold used to be lead but the transformation was worth the wait, it’s like fallin’ out a bed
Dreamin’ on the ground of this being that flies around the sun, like a bird in a nest of debt
In forms of random stickup men, robbing what we’ve plundered, bones of chump followers
A record spinning on a turntable bein’ scratched by a diamond needles in a golden showers.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. September 28, 2018 Friday @ 11:11 AM PST
{ drafted listenin’ to Gwen Stefani #WhatAreYouWaitingFor & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/f5qICl3Fr3w }
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