STRANGE BUT, WHICH WITCH?
Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, October 31, 2019
------------------midnight past----------------
Good, bad and ugly, we witches got it all, full throttle to the finish line, nowhere in sight
It’s a matter of form and when you discover the nature of babies, you will just wanna fight
With me or anyone in sight of your knuckles, fists and feet, miles from the ending, I move
On and off at my own will, free as it can be, assuming I am here at all, laughin’ my groove.
Punishment and reward for the things we do, good, bad and indifferent, I am what I am
What that is cannot be determined, it’s an indeterminate principle, bumpy road of the jam
Traffic moves inch by inch and I fall deep asleep before the dream ends, I live, I die, in L.A.
But why, accident or punishment for disobedience of a cosmic source, jezus, god or the RA.
I ain’t from Carolina or Mississippi but I’ve been down south to visit the folks incarcerated
Here and now with the crackers and the honkees on the block, on the farm, the livin’ dead
Nothing to do when you’re locked up for breakin’ laws of man and god as above, so below me
Jack rabbits dyin’ for my campfire, I eat the muscle off their T-bones, hey, freedom ain’t free.
Compare this magic of these words to the magic of the spells of witches’ and warlocks’ gods
What matters in the long and short run is that I’m alive, still above the ground, chewing cud
One on and off turning into two, three ad infinitum, population rollin’ along the marble slab
Earth, the planet, the dead star stuff, it will be alright when you die, chill out now, be a slob.
That witch in the house up the hill, where ghosts go in the daytime to hide from what I say
Battered women and downtrodden men, honkies, punks and gangsters, live a day & then die
No way to predict the nature of the beast or what exactly will happen now, bright light of day
Wake up, go back to sleep cowboys! Sky is high but so is your head so git ready to deep fry.
Crackers and honkies playin’ with lady luck like it’s their right to capture the swag, in the hay
Locked and loaded to put a round in my heart, stone dead to the rest of the DNA, what I say?
Beat me and I’ll beat you back, up and down until you don’t know your name, dead and gone
Hustled ladies and gentlemen and put their ghosts inside their 208 bones for the corn pone.
Busted loose from the matrix with the head witch and her minions, holy ghouls and goblins
I can’t confront that one trick pony, so strange in or out of the grave, live or dead mortal sins
Bobbin’ for apples, pinnin’ tails on the donkey, watchin’ the days pass like pills in a pill box
Every week emptied and refilled for the duration of the huffs and puffs I get, God, life rocks!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Jeudi, ROCKTOBER 31, 2019 A.D. @ 1:11 AM PST
{ drafted while listenin’ to #HOLOWEEN JAMZ on youTube #RunninWithTheDevil etc link @ https://youtu.be/HefrXSUMbEA & gettin’ ready to bake some DEAD TREATS for the ghouls link @ https://www.food.com/recipe/corn-pone-225175 }
W.W.A.R.D.?
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