ROYAL FLUSH & A PURPLE GURU
by
Pens, pencils, quills, chalk, sticks in the dirt all recorded the parts of the whole, holy thing
If you don’t read it then it won’t do you any good, one way or another, win turns can’t lose
Think about it for a moment, you can’t get out of your skin or bones until you die, really high
Imagine the last thought, holy scat of the surprises from birth to death, God’s so godang sly!
At least there was loud music and drum beats to make your skeleton rock and rolled upon
Felt very good whether you played it loud and long or just listened to a Bose speaker oven
Either way, drummers keep the rhythm of the beat so the strings, wind and brass overflow
Imagine being alone but alive, not dead yet, just all alone, nobody else in sight, inhale blow.
God, invisible, attribute the good and evil that happen to the all too human suckers born now
Every minute one’s born and if that’s the case, there’s literally millions of suckers at this show
A rerun of a movie I’ve seen many times, I know how it ends, the lights dim, curtain’s drawn
Party son and daughter of an extraterrestrial, paradise of wisemen’s heaven, toke Unknown.
Compass pointing straight up north when I’m at the south pole, south of the burnt, holy fire
It’s the reason why this reality exists in the first place and in the end, you may be perturbed
Not what you expect from all of the rumours and propaganda you’ve been so enculturated
It’s an evolutionary adaptation, to get along with the most unfortunate dregs of the bonfire.
When one is on the wall, you cannot deny you’ve got a need for speed, sneakin’ from my rear
Caught in pitch black darkness, in a palm, waiting for release to the light or the annihilator
As long as there’s a great song playin’ on the youTube, it takes the pain away, the bada booms
It’s a mean setup, a royal fool and a poor guru, accidental DNA & a twilight zone dark rooms.
Philosophical existentialism or solipsism recommended for the trip through this morass afar
Of the men and the rats who carry the end of the species on their revolutions around the star
Broken points that really are pointless, in essence, it is really on ice in a deaf and blind freeze
Those who lead the packs, the towns, counties, nation-states and papal vatican of histories.
Sunshine with or without you, storms, whirlwinds, all here before you got here, One & done
But not your lucky, little soul mover of the 208 bones you got from your ma and pa, braves
Not a huge amount of souls become alive in a body to move about like free women or slaves
Skin color matters little, long way to go to get the power, King & Queen, checkmate ace, one!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Lundi, ROCKTOBER 21st, 2019 A.D. @ 1900 hours
{ blasted form my pseudo-occult magical fingertips in an hour while listenin’ to Chris Janson (...when I die) #HawaiiOnMe on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/gFapzeoGJlA }
W.W.A.R.D.?
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