I THINK THAT’S MY DAD! WHAT IT IS?
That man right there, he really does look like my dad, a bit tricky to treat you on Halloweens
Dark eyes a little bit different but the rest is exactly like him, as the wind does, we just blow
I was about two months old the day he died, he was about twenty, reduced to smithereens
Compared to this present day, he would have been the #BlackPanther or the #WhiteShadow.
With a fix on your life and limb, you are the last man and last woman in the solar system
Make the Earth your home and propagate the seeds to make life grow and thrive, civilize
In concert with the origin of species which you are, keep that the occult mystery of flies
Maggots and spaghetti who thrive on the refuse and recycling of the wasted fuel’s orgasm.
Cleaned of the wrong-minded conclusions which follow from invalid premises’ deductions
Back to the origin of species when wonder about the matter and hunger, why such a pout?
Mortal or venial and possibly original, garden of Eden type of hereditary, witches potions
Compared to normal, as above so below, during a storm there’s turmoil within and without.
On the day when the souls of the faithfully departed who’ve rested in peace, quake the yard
Graves’ piles of muddy, rocky dirt begin to wave like the ocean surf does with tide inbound
Out of Mother Earth, living corpses rise because the undertaker hid bones in shallow ground
Inner peace in your neighbor’s hood, heart and soul, I’m all, criminally sane, praise the lord.
It is thrilling to say the least when you get scared and you know it’s pretend, as opposed to
Reality animates the body, bones, the emotion and until the heart ceases to raise an eyebrow
When it’s dead and gone, it deteriorates and festers into a subject, buried, creepy ghosts too
Backdoor slammed behind me but it opened up again, enter this monster of August ‘51 stew.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. MARDI, ROCKTOBER 30, 2018 @ 3:33 PM PST
{ drafted while listenin’ to Michael Jackson strut-slam-boogie on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/rmCA3qQkqso }
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