#ricoSacto

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

ZEUS' MICROBIAL ONENESS & ME

ZEUS’ FISH OUT OF WATER, DOA
by
----------------  #GreatZeusGhosts -----------------

Right here and now, to the left, to the right leaning due to paternal force of One, goddess dam
Full H2O where a pond once was, drops dead on Saturn, Mars, Venus & Jupiter's sidereal flip
Old and washed up stars of the red giants and white dwarves that inhabit a ghetto’s Void trip
Where tabernacles full of blind faith hold grim forms of God-made Man’s forceless flimflam.

Kisses away from the last One to make it through eternal night, ego-divested nature of Three
Old man but never a woman in charge of the humanity we grant full responsibility for Being
As if any human on Earth could actually fill the empty shoes of Nothing, a Void of peril to me
A One, a Father and the Second in charge, the Many, a Mother without Me, I am 1, perishing.

As if the day’s dreams and night’s mares weren’t enough for the top to get down to my diction
To kiss It or the little Lucy up in the sky with rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires & topaz
All of this and everything else is the whole shebang, it’s a matter of fact, the energy of fiction
Buffalo roamed all over this animal skinned culture, rawhide to the hair of sheep, all pizazz!

Coming from where I am taught, where I am told the winter is, spinnin’ balls in circles’ TV set
Sights for sore blinded eyes open the vista from a blacktop road in darkness into a plethora fit
For kings and queens who never knew they had it all when they had it, so lost in a Space force
It all comes down to this, you’ll be either #Woke or #Dreaming, soul-dead, it could be worse!

Fighting with Zeus or Zarathustra just because the Word was spoken and I desired the light
A supernova of hydrogen and carbon gets too excited to contain the excitement, all orgasmic
In spurts of pulsar energy, in every direction from the center of an inverted point of my Right
To the Left, to the left we go with the little children runnin’ wild around the totem pole dick!

Out in the cotton fields, we picked the fuzz until our fingers bled, then we got the gin, we win!
Makin’ slick duds for the Many, baby bones being born in geometric progression, dirty dozen
Runnin’ the blocks to the corners and through the back doors, bein’ Mr & Mrs Jones holy Sin
For real, the mortality and the venality of the original eventuality is the doom of my own Zen.

Having a thing for Mrs. Jones or any mother of my teenage girlfriends of the 1960’s, Oh man!
I went directly from being OK with life as we know it, to suddenly, eyes wide opened, I’s a fan
Out the door, down the block, Iran for it, a getaway to die for, killin’ it, a military unit of SOBs
We’d be DOA to the ones who gave Some and All of it, just the two of us, happy NY 2020AD!

by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mercredi, FREEZEMBER 25th, 2019 A.D. @ 7:77 AM PHT
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?

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