U/V BLUE, OLD DAYS, ONE & DONE
Just an empty vessel of solid gases from the atmosphere’s exosphere on the perihelion of God
What in the world is out of this world? God is. It is the way of the warrior, weaponized mind
Knowledge and Wisdom of the Good and Evil of the wobbling orbit, the revolution’s scat-free
All that’s left after the light’s gas is used and abused without regard for sharing or humanity.
On the beach waitin’ for the surf to rise above the sandy turf of tuna, skin of the star games
No bench under my arse waitin’ to go into the game, ready to elicit defense of idiotic dames
Looking into and around it, above and below it, fell the distance between atomic infinite suns
Blowing and glowing, it’s all they do, it’s the function of the atomic genome of misery’s funds.
Days blown, nighttime is all that can shown to the players of The End games of the Voidish
What appears to be nothing at all, a vacuum without a trace of the past or the future, a Dish
With or without you and me, it’s here, it’s there and everywhere else in the Cosmic menses
For to be or not to be is NOT THE QUEST of the man’s skin and bones, one cell to corpses.
Compound the delivery of the Word with the Meaning and Intent of the Thought, persuasion
That I’m right and you’re either Left or Wrong but in any case, Not Right and that is all of It
Become one with the idea, the thought of the path to return to the memory of life’s BBQ pit
It’s the food we eat, it’s all dead and it allows our life to extend beyond the thirst’s starvation.
You died, you gave it all, at birth or in a battle or at the end of the line’s accidental ceremony
To honor the pointless life of a man or a woman and invent a meaning without the substance
It is what it is to be alive, to be a human, to be a homo sapiens, to be this guy in this company
The master of light, the arbiter of the orbit’s byte off of the solar system’s jazzy blues’ dance.
Just light ‘em up if you got ‘em and that is all she wrote, we fired up those fags on a match
Smoked ten packs in the carton in a week, first call to nicotine addiction, pitched to catch
In between innings in back of the dugout, we huffed and puffed before singles and homers
At bat to hit the ball out of the park, fast or curved balls got the wood goin’ over to Hooters.
Blessed souls and sentenced bodies and bones to the prison’s prism, miracles all shook up
I got chills from the ice around my head and feet, happy to be alive but I forgot my #SECup
Fast ball right down the pipe, eighty MPH screw ball in the unprotected groin for the money
Dreaming big, woke up in a dream, in shackles, nested in a sticky heart, my A-B-C’s honey!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. #CincoDeMayo 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST
{ drafted while jammin’ to #AlbertKingBlues #DoesElvis HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/am0HO6Ijfyw }
W.W.A.R.D. ?
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