----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MATTER FORMA DEADMAN HAND
Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, January 24, 2019
---------------------------------------------
Cowboys when they were needed and Indians without a choice, great spirits’ spider-man sins
All of them moved the innocent to the bag full of valor carried until thin air’s forces go up, fly
Used to be the small babies and children, teenage fighting men thrown in dark ass dungeons
Turned toward the burning star’s sunlight, wrinkled and desperate to stay and afraid to die.
Aces and eights is all I’ve ever wanted little mama, was it askin’ too much, I think, I am, see?
It’s whatever it takes to win the hand and bluff your way to the victory, embracing inferiority
Tempted to file for bankruptcy of ethics ‘cause without justice there is nothing but what I got
Injustice of treatment by ne’er do wells who ought to have followed Golden Rules but did not.
Unless you’ve got four aces or trip queens, the one-eyed jack will have to do for an old maid
Wanting to travel in the mist with the misfits is over the top, on a trip, on a boat or on a jet
Mixin’ it all up in the menu-do of sensation and recollection from the ancestral history, I bet
No one will ever know that pain and suffering I had before the seventh day of a creator-creed.
Most valuable, least desirable, like bills and love letters in a mailbox out front, WTF goin’ on
Nobody knows but some of us care and we’ll get to the bottom of it, turnin’ upside down, run!
Dreamin’ and singin’ a melody that fits with the crazy causes of nutty effects, mellow funkin’
Sweet, warm, white or tan, yellow or black, skin tight over the couple hundred bones, bonkin’
Fools rush in where wise men fear to go and it appears that we’re flush with fools, all rushin’
Under north stars and southern borders’ walls and fences, babies born too close for the callin’
Miracle that your mother and father fumbled you into this matrix of crystalline, all my rules
Daughters grownup, awakened at the fork in the road with nowhere else to go, goddess’ fools.
Last breath, last movement of the concerto, of the rats and women who roam where I was
In and out of the holy caves and bottomless holes underground down to the core, she does
Captains and lieutenants are the leaders of the followers, corporals and private first classes
Dusted off the god and got gold, had an extra ‘l’ left over, slipped it to the gods’ gold asses.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Thursday January 24th, 2019 A.D. @ 5:55 PM PST
{ drafted while listenin’ to WAR THE BAND #SlippinIntoDarkness & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/RFSWW4O6QNM }
W.W.A.R.D.?
No comments:
Post a Comment
YOUR 2 cents...if you don't mind? ;-)