BULLY PULPIT & A SISTER’S HEAD
by
-------#CRIKEY----------
Not a thing or nothing at all but a concept of total inclusiveness in hot burnin’ bird blind
By the blazing fire of the burning star we call the One, the God without which, we all find
Ends of Nothing in the Void, trapped like a rat in a maze of no exit, no entry, no F in Way
Middle path of pathos and grief without being on the left or right of the center, God, I say?
It was written by scribes who recorded the Word of Men, not gods’ who stuck It in honey
In caves of mountains and hills or below the switching, waves of the oceans, H2O in foal
Hydrogen gas and Oxygen fumes come into our lungs for a treat of Life’s supernova soul
I live for you & you for me, without a nerve left to feel the #CrushOfLove, yo papa Sonny.
Lookin’ from way back and far ahead of the present dream of divine presence, all too human
Touch my heart and soul, invisible to my eyes but an article of blind faith and selfish doubt
Not a thing, not nothing at all but a concept of total inclusiveness in the hot burnin’ flameout
In the process of staring deep into the black hole, enter/exit a broken Singularity, my mouth.
Ahead of the rear ends of the herd where you won’t be following the gas of the head bull stud
Ready to fight for the females to generate more of the things themselves, extra terrestrial cud
Chewed up RNA is hijacked by mankind’s DNA to replenish grand funk, gas debt, elimination
Culture and society of the historical record keepers is a comedy and tragedy of idiots in a sin.
Mortality and divinity, one and the same to the innocent babies who never asked for the flirt
In or out of the house you’re born into, the ends are all an identical wake-up call to just be It
What it is? Guess and you’ll win the game of cause and effect, to be or not to be, you ain’t chit
All you are, all you’ll ever be, no wings just shovels to dig into a dead star’s black hole sundirt.
What’s up with Jack? Nothing special at all but a theory of everything known, lit up thunder
X marks the spot of my guilder signature, masonic sinless, iron burn, on a dying honey bee
Ran the dozens and used the #JibJab of the bull’s eyes I ate for dinner, recycled down under
Buried pirate treasure stolen from kings and queens who ripped the gift of god, me, me, me.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Lundi, February 10th, 2020 A.D. @ 4:11 AM PST
{ Jammed generating a mystic Void between my ears, for the sake of humanity to manking, listening to Unconscious program of 10 Hz of #BinauralBeats link @ https://youtu.be/bVGq3owIksM }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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