MONDAY DREAM ON A CUFF LINK
Forgot my top hat and white gloves, I’ve become nothing perfunctory, infallible or certain
My mind dreams outside and inside of things themselves and there’s electronic confusion
A prison with bars and solid steel doors cannot hold the spirit inside the bones of the Pope
Punks and derelicts all over my dream within a dream, doin’ dirty deeds with AC/DC dope.
Compared to yesterday tomorrow is an unknown, right here and now is past in a flinch
Why your mother and father conceived this life you’ve got, there’s no way to tell for sure
Probably an accidental crash of two heavenly bodies and disqualifying me, a tiny pinch
Putting Smash back in graveyard’s dirt, front of the fence or outback, deity kills the pure.
Beyond the burning fire of atoms in each star in the cosmos, there’s Nothing but fool’s gold
I don’t have any proof any more than anyone has any proof that there’s Life out there, oh Ga
Sisters and brothers mating, fighting, dying for no good reason at all, for the Karma on hold
Wings on my back are in use and I am not coming back to the nest to rest, swamp of the FLA.
Begin the life in innocent ignorance and end the same life with identical wisdom of a saint
Nothing to begin with and nothing to end with, not even a slight reward or rebuke for Evil
Alive is just a girl named Evil A. and that is all there is for real, who is that lady? She ain’t
Peach, apple, bean and animal fat goin’ in and out of the machine, your mama’s on the pill.
Extinction of the species is an act of contrition for being so mean in a garden called Eden
Where the First Lady named Eve, came before Christ’s mass, an anointed elf, Xmas twerp
Presents of unknown intent, to dupe receivers into longing for words up in a fountain pen
Pointed to the quadratic equation and the categorical imperative and I hear crickets’ chirp.
Smell and breathe the burned grass and wood, the pungent odor of dead dirt, a tornado spout
Alive in the fear and loathing inherited from the teachers, professors of faith in an Unknown
Without seeing or hearing the miracle presented, a blind faith is reduced to the only way out
Utter hopelessness, midgets smiling, universal faith in nothing at all, I think I’m overblown.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. BLOVEMBER 12, 2018 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST
{ written while in inbred-audio-mating with the #Marconi on Talk 650 KSTE-AM & the mighty Armstrong & Getty givin’ opine re: gangland killing.....maybe they can learn from the draft of the WW I thugs from the #BigApple back in 1917? link iHeartRadio @ https://www.iheart.com/live/talk-650-229/ }
#PulpFiction SOUNDTRACK
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