THIRD OF SEPTEMBER, A DAY I'LL ALWAYS REMEMBER...MAMA'S BIRTHDAY September 3, 1923 AD RIP MAMA!

DOG IS GOD, BACKWARD, EH? *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, September 3, 2019

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Stars and stripes mean more than thirteen bars of red and white in a solar field’s scarlet blue

‘69 Chevy with a 396cc engine, four on a bald headed floor, dual carbs, header-glass pack fool

First heat and the last drag race of the storm, I win, I see, holy pretenders are really uncool

Some guys give up and start dyin’ little by little, some just go in a blaze of crimson glory too.

Blown away under their seats when I clocked that 9.2 1/4 mile, a Camaro tease, oh wetter T’s

No, I never let the word or the world get me down with the rest of my enemy-friends, race me

If I bet I win, if I don’t bet I win, it’s a #WinWin situational ethics type of deal, props to Boss’

There was one, was a hog and there was one risin’ in the back alley, mean street mental floss.

It’s a major revelation to shivering homeless boys or girls with no shoes, God of a Dog, yeah?

Dancin’ barefoot with the dead and buried memories of who used to be here and now, today

Yesterday came and went, today’s goin’ fast and tomorrow may never come for some to play

Forever past the last day, the sun won’t ever set again, it’ll never rise again, it’ll be fine, OK?

Recollect that day you were born into this windy, wet world but you can’t, weren’t present yet

But now you are here and now, fresh from the past, wild eyed and bushy tailed, deep in debt

Sinning before birth, just for trying to multiply DNA, drilling the soul for infinitely long trips

From the rocks and dirt, concrete and steel, supersonic jets, skyscrapin’ steel kissin’ two lips.

I’m goin’ down, way down to the bottom where nobody ever goes, I’m already gone, so nice

You cannot burn me when I am already the flame, so hot that the iron’s frozen cold, blue ice

No sweat and no offense to you my friend but you’re out of bounds, lovin’ my huggin’ frown

Beatin’ my tom-toms, sixty pound stones carried up and down the hill, pops to throw down.

There was thunder on my road too, the lightening kept the way lit long enough to see the end

Across the porch, radio playin’ Bruce and Roy, tellin’ tales of the Man, lovin’ the Woman sins

No problem to get into the trouble of the historical survival of the fit and the lucky dogs fend

For them and their kin, for the orphaned souls, zip haircuts and bald, blue-red painted skins.

To the far side where every loser’s winner finds a hook, a saga of talkin’ heads, clappin’ hands

Crowd works and slaves to pay to hear the sounds of the music men and women of Peter Pans

Sisters and brothers from mine and other mothers of red-blooded, tough, dead roadies’ scree

Fools believed #PurpleRain’s Truth, hooks, lines, sinkers, reachin’ for a kiss, now, cover me!

by

r j j stephan, i * #BeenAroundATimeOrTwoToo - God

c. September 3rd, 2019 A.D. Tuesday, my mama mia’s birthday back in 1923 A.D. Happy birthday from my lips to God’s ears mama! “If you’re ready for love, I’m tougher than the rest!” - Bruce Springsteen LIVE LINK ON A THIN LINE @ https://youtu.be/HSNI0jwsZ9k }

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FINIS