FUNK IN FAKE COSMIC SOUP *
Well and good, ill and evil, either way or neither way, chickens peckin’ to kill the bull
Being the hen-pecked rooster who crows out loud in the silent night of the Pinochle
The rest of the day is for walkin’ and peckin’ and huntin’ for the gods in a chariot
Hidden in the yolk of each of their hatched eggs, the DNA of the moron and idiot.
OMG, hidden texts that change the minds of the ignorant and deceived in #MoronMush
Gravel, rocks, stones and pebbles move the boulder from the cave, give it an itty-bity push
With blinded eyes wide open, fired leaves burn the shadow invisible to our ancient history
Fine with me, you are slim, #GoogleIt #Coachella extinction’s immanent, he’s she, she’s he.
Can you hear the morning sirens, the helicopters propellers and propulsion’s divine noise
Reversing gravity’s power, exceptional idea on defying the authority of a pull, keepin’ poise
Deadbeat dead heads in conjunction with naked apes burnin’ Chokecherry Canyon incense
Impudent and aligned with my Evil Genius in a free-hand masquerade, Cartesian conscience.
Lifted from a war zone, above and below the historical idiots, #Silence, drink #FruitOfVines
Are you feelin’ me now, being so fit for survival, armed with sharp, holy swords and sheaths
Even if you are dead and gone from a consciousness of a divine being host of Life’s last breath
Fear the hashashins knives, fruity heart, to the head, grapevine hands, swallowing my wines.
Knowledge, wisdom are the power along with the Charity of Blind Faith and Blind Fortune
To be or not to be is NOT ‘The Question’ but it is the answer to the wobbles revolution, son
Mother of all bombs dancin’ to the overture of your worst nightmare and best idiot illusion
Flush down the spit with the holy water, in the wishing well of your mama’s womb, in scum.
I am not the creator of the images you receive within your finite cranium, just the messenger
Appropriated the words and thoughts of my teachers and writers of the philosophy of Thor
Gods who moved when they should have remained at rest for eternity, but why? It is done!
Consciences of a Nation, Galaxy and a Cosmos, asleep in a mother-lode, an #effin fake-drone.
by
r j j stephan, i *Header is the Grateful Dead colored-bone icon from an LP/CD
c. April 25, 2019 A.D. @ 9:11 PST
{ drafted while listenin’ to a surprise for all of us on youTube link #ENDS Everlast @ https://youtu.be/MjiMqeD-lrs #DontBeAHaterYouMoron #IfTheSlipperFits }
W.W.A.R.D.?
W.W.A.R.D.?
No comments:
Post a Comment
YOUR 2 cents...if you don't mind? ;-)