ANGELS’ STREETCORNER MERCY
There is a reason to the rhyme in your prismatic prose, a lack of sensitivity, negligent C-men
From the bowels of the bottom of the meatball wasteland, the Earth supernovas demigods
Souls of One or the Many, on the cages of the masses of third and second classes of a Zazen
Discredit the humanity of it all, revolution from the axis to the equator, supernova gonads.
Spies for the Arctic and the Antarctic cites of the frozen tundra, all the waste conglomerates
At the top above and below at the bottom of the whirling, dead star, dirty planet ozone fates
Comin’ in and out of black holes, the hard rocks turn to soft,hot liquid, ore-rock, lava hotties
Drop the facade and create the Truth out of the Nothingness that existed before gods’ bodies.
Thunder, lightening, fire, water, wind from the revolution and wobble of the twirl’s whirl
It’s a matter if Time and Space, the spin, wobble and flippin’ turns, ad infinitum, endless It
We are not qualified to comment on the nature of Being the source of Being, the Be One All
Unfathomable that your original DNA code is related to Nothing on Earth, heaven’s a ball?
We play ‘ball’ every day, the Earth is a ball, the moon is a ball, the sun is a ball, do it all again
Spring and Summer makes the hitter run about four bases to get home, scoring losers do win
Tell the truth about what you think, true love and smiles, hard to get hard up and in, screws
I am mad at you but I’m not mad, you’ve misconstrued my dream in these ultraviolet blues.
It’s right when it’s wrong sometimes just because you don’t lay down to sleep all alone, ever
Inside the bag of bones I’ve got to animate the thing itself, in the toes or in the brains, never
Never-land is not the end of the line, it’s not curtains down on a stage’s finale, iced giant Red
Bitter end of iced, terrestrial wings’ groove in a magic gas rock, a holy UFO grave, it is said!
Intent causes the effects in your and my reality, whether conscious or unconscious, same old
Ancient texts of human linguistic history from a tower of Babel, mighty blows, spinal tap gold
Take this the wrong way please, you and I, all of us of every culture on Earth fall down to here
Ecstatic, empty void of holy-scat prayers to corpses lovin’ social paradise, holy cheeseburger!
by
r j j stephan, i {HEADER is that old 70’s Florida-Alabama-Georgia-Mississippi band }
c. May 3, 2019 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST
W.W.A.R.D.?
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