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Thursday, August 22, 2019

ELLIPSIS’ RHAPSODY, SHADE BLUE

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, August 22, 2019

If it doesn’t hurt then it’s not for real, life is photo-shopped and air-brushed clean, clear chit

You know why, it’s because you’ve got a pretty smile and skinny jeans, my freedom’s Free-fall

To be or not to be is not the only question, there’s another few inquiries for addressing The It

Blind faith in hopes and dreams barrel of monkeys, gramma’s son CUT a RUG, spawn of All!

I came forward and you fell on back to the rear of the club, last table in the back, two chair set

None but the best in my midst, all up in my face, got down on my case just ‘cause it was easy

A force to be reckoned with is not the only force in the universe, line ‘em up, burnt atoms’ chi

Neither more nor less than It all, from nuclei to macrobiotic, phantom bugs between my me.

Blown superego can’t fly solo, all gone girl, run clean out of fake miracles, O2’s hydrogen ruse

Without liquid that a solid needs to transform boiling gas of I don’t knows, drunken on grape

Crying for a taste of microbial life while starin’ in the empty face of smoke and mirrored blues

I can’t make it without you and me, we’re finished with last gasps, orifice of man’s face agape!

Although being stupid should hurt if that was an evolutionary advantage, stupid feels so good

Evil mind is one which has been depleted of ignorance and a tendency to honor my defiance

Not because it’s the right thing to do, it’s the only choice possible, there’s me not in the mood

And then there’s everything in perfect synchronization with the babies of midgets and giants.

Swing It around over here Mother Earth, wobblin’ spin, ellipsis (. . .) spun a One Way thang

It’s busy on the road, it dead-ends at a Wall where only Nothing’s leftover from a chitty Bang

Imagination fully creating everything from literally nothing but a Void full of an original sin

Empty space without me, holy hole of the amalgam of Space’s Time, now or way back when.

Passing in and out of the love left over from the dumpster of cosmic dust, last call dust of God

I am what I am, standin’ tall, being much more to attract the deep state, black-holed demigod

Rulers of yard sticks or meters, give or take a centimeter at the pulpit, they chop wood for me

I’m in an out of sight coverup, ellipsis smoke’s alive, my hand’s ace high in firewater, I’m free!

c. August 22nd, 2019 A.D. @ 3:03 AM PST

W.W.A.R.D.?