SOUTHSIDE SHOWN, BLOWN TOO
It’s a matter of complete fearlessness, armor is the power of knowledge’s wisdom, a pariah
Function of the calculus is to figure out what equals another thing, one cell compare to God
Alone between rocks and hard places, sometimes stoned, sometimes drunk or both, I forgot
But the important thing is, it’s all right there where I left it, deep down in the secret 3rd eye.
Pumped up with the gas, neon lights shining brightness and words of language signs & bums
Beggars everywhere lookin’ for a handout because they’ve failed, got sidetracked by the slums
Places where the babies go with their mothers who spread their wishbones for a spoon’s tuck
Can’t say enough chit to my sisters’ sons and my brothers’ daughters, no wait, what the heck?
My nose kept me headed in the correct direction through the twilight zone, Chit-own to L.A.
Shots of whiskey poured for free until addiction got planted, an alcohol fix for a fool on weed
Songs on the radio speakin’ to my holy, inner 6th sense, protected by a mean, bad poppy seed
Old man’s bones and skin, single, married, single, married, chasin’ you, still chasin’ #Payday.
Juice in the glass or in the milk carton waxed tree pulp, it all goes down the hatch in a gulp
At some point, on the way down the road goin’ straight to the place at the center of Atlantis
Nowhere outside in space to go, it’s emptiness out there, you can only go down without help
Nobody will save you just like an orphan, when you’re dead, that’s it, caput, the end, Finis!
To the infinite power, I come to a screechin’ halt, down at the bottom of the white trash talk
Hell with place in space, it’s all there is but I don’t GAF and neither do your mamas and dads
All the dead saints and dead mortal souls who never asked for life’s conception, suckin’ milk
Toothless and clueless from birth until a finite age of adulthood, barring bleedin’ out blood.
I got blackened eyes and broken, bloody noses for saying words of the free speech lexicon
Got my arse kicked by Johnny Walker, Jim Beam and Jack Daniels on any faded away fun
Makes you forget what should never be recalled for any reason, a missing person overflow
Me, not you, I’m the one who got lost on a one way street, can’t look back, I’m gonna blow.
Gangs’ head-bangin’ ‘cause it’s either fight or flight, no other reason, odds’ even fake choices
Towns and metropolitan matrices erecting towers of Babel for the minions’ with Rolls Royces
Living and dying under the impression that this is not the end, when it is, it’s all there is fool
Talkin’ to myself not y’all, down the purple Mississippi, on a roll ever since 1971, Biloxi’s tool.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. #Mercredi ROCKTOBER 16th, 2019 A.D. @ 05:00 hours
{ drafted in effigy & listenin’ to Morganwallen TheRealBigSmo Eric Church & deep in the The Milky Way Adventure Park on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/PRcl5L11yjM }
W.W.A.R.D.?
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