7TH SON, SUSIE Q & A BOGEYMAN *
I came down to Bombay to save y’all from yourselves, got so hungry for my flesh and blood
Y’all almost ate everything born and raised on Earth, burrowing or flying could not get away
Future shock to know your presence is locked into someone’s empty stomach, a dope head
Playin’ along for the ride until you can figure out the avenue of escape from the water flood.
Hydrogen and oxygen have their place here and there, rivers run through land like bleeding
Around in circles around the brain and heart to show the minions the Way to Be, live to die
Like all of the rest before you and I, angels and devils all made up back of a widow’s tin cup
In the center of the forehead that puts the horses before the carts, makin’ irrational chit up.
Here is a pain for you in your heart, in your chest to make you think about the pain of Being
Alive and dealing with the pushers and junkies on the back and front streets near Sing Sing
A prison inside a super-fly skull to keep your mind in the prison where you think it’ll survive
A momentary lapse of our mother’s contraception, father’s lack of reason, therefore we live.
It’s all good and it’s too bad that what is good, better and best is just the invisible, ghostly one
Smokin’ and snortin’ the shots and beers like there’s no tomorrow, suddenly, you’re dead son
Time to reminisce about the time you spent alive, presence of the ego, repeating a wet dream
What hurts and causes the most pain is a stab in the heart with a girlfriend’s mocha cream.
Born in a nest, a bed of straw or stuffed sponge foam, maybe right in the mud, all to be alive
Pain and suffering of the host matters little but there is much of that to go around the hive
Where the honey is made and stored in the combs for the queen to munch durin’ the hatch
Cajun queens chasin’ hoodoo in the bayou near New Orleans, 7th son born in a swamp patch.
Sound off on the sweet words that make the little girls go out their adolescent, fat deadheads
They rock and roll, they groove to the rhythm and beat until the motion of the oceanic bleeds
Orgasmic twitch of the nervous system’s bad, ugly seeds, deposited goodness into the friction
Left in fertile quicksand, grounded in a secret microchip sucking me, #LetsRide original sin!
by
r j j stephan, i { *header is #VeronicaLodge from Archiecomics.com ready to shred her Fender Guitar and Amp Society! }
c. Lundi, March 25th, 2019 A.D. @ 2030 hours
{ drafted while listenin’ to Creedence Clearwater Review #SusieQ & Multiservicios ZztopHITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/6l3owsZJRAs }
W.W.A.R.D.?
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