Pork and beans on the open pit fire, out on the prairie runnin’ the cows with the boys
Fell off of my horse and broke my neck and now I can just watch the roundup ploys
Of the hungry and thirsty ones who are not from Terra Ferma but from far, far away
In another galaxy on a parallel plane of existence, at the same time in another’s space.
Satisfaction is never guaranteed by anyone and should never be but the gods can do
Override my good judgement and go along the path of least resistance, where gods go
Above and below, beyond the sensory perception of a fake reality and a killer instinct
A soul, a conscious and ethereal essence of being nothing, what happens to be extinct.
Ripped into the system for the upgrades and updates, just for the hot scat, giggles and such
Indeed, it is what it is as it always is and then some, for what it’s worth, it’s a fake boondoggle
It being the nature of you, me and everything you see, what you feel, smell, taste and touch
Dam up over the Auburn Ravine and Forest Hill bridge, where steel-head fear to hatch roe.
I may appear to be crazy like a fox but I’m actually just a scavenger for the folly of hu-men
Not that the women don’t have any but I’m not down with their plight, red ridin’ hood hens
More or less right on the money, right time, in the right place and it’s bada bing bam boom
Buried bones, hatchets and rock and roll records, no reason known for a witch on a broom.
Magic spells and concoctions of powders and pills to mix up the simple mind of the genii sign
Completed and fulfilled as the stars move from birth to death, things alive, just for a slow-ride
Don’t get all uppity on me and become holier than thou either, looky here now, I ain’t lyin’
Monsoon, typhoon, volcano blown, UFO dash, time trippin’ a #Sugaree space’s scree n’ me.
Coaster rollin’ up and down the track gaining speed around curves, downhill to B-Neg blood
Before we all die we’ll know why we came on a no good God trip, a dead, opiate struggle bust
Punks singin’ and pluckin’, blowin’ poundin’ and mixin’ it for the polka hip hop of the hood
Daddies and mommies all tell us, beg, borrow and steal to survive, con game USA gold dust.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. February 8th 2019 A.D. @ 5:11 PM PST
{ drafted listenin’ to Lynyrd Skynyrd HITS live @ https://youtu.be/Mqfwbf3X8SA & https://youtu.be/UGKIX2_ViF8?list=RDUGKIX2_ViF8 }
W.W.A.R.D. ?
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