FAVOR? ...BLOWN AIR IN A VOID
Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, February 28, 2020
------------------ #CropDusted -------------------
Get the intercourse off of my cloud, it’s all mine and I don’t care if it’s #9 ‘cause I’m IT, a #1
There were six before me for mothers and fathers to dote and choke off under the big ol’ sun
Suddenly, there was only One left over in the icebox, refrigerated with the Freon's deep Space
It’s all free, we’re all hungry for Freedom if we’re restricted and shackled to whipped up face.
For the third time, you shot doubles for an hour between seven and eight, then made a date
Blind lucky as I am, I was always full of good fortune and healthy paranoia to survive the fate
Of men and mice who crawl on all fours or bipedal upright, hands free to dig deep into Sin
On mortal bones and wings, none can escape the graves of the ancestors, tombstones’ of gin.
Everybody found the alcohol and the ground up leaves and buds to become atrophied fights
Boys and girls alike, discover the meaning of life is the good and evil of their active thoughts
Nothing behind the idea’s other than empty, vacuumed progeny of vacant gods and creators
Naked apes covered in mink stoles and the mud and blood of the dead, long gone warriors.
On a timeline from the origin to the present, here you are over here, in the darkest light of Ni
Black or white matters a byte of data, where you’re from is dirty balls of sweat, planetary high
Empty ‘tween the miles of smiles and mirth generated without prejudice, feeling hot, burned
All in the family of atomic fusion and fission, a black hole in transition from a Big Bang’s Urn.
Dust of cosmic, atomic brokeback DNA mixed up directional signals, up, down, in, out, above
Whatever is below has no currency, it’s free of value and the foundation of an ultraviolet dove
Dream in a whiskey bottle or a hooka hose, that don’t confront me at all, I ignore the white lie
Pretending it’s OK to be an ignoramous or a phuqn idiot, I’m an evil genius on a SloGin high.
I will mess with your mind and your head until the day I die, you have no say in the scenario
I’m the sheet of ice you avoid, you will slide to your demise if you step foot on my surface hole
Falling into the empty liquid, the living become the dead and break down the fool’s gold show
Where in the end, comfort is good, nothing’s bad, nobody’s here, we’re all caput, “Let’s blow!”
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Vendredi 28 février 2020 Anno Domini à 3 h 33, heure normale du Pacifique
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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