#InAndOutAnimalStyleProteinStyle #RubberLatexGlovesAndUS
ROCK’S HARD, NOW LET US ROLL
Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, March 27, 2020
------------ #GTFOOH #CoughOnYouAndMe -----------
Way down, bottom of the core, this is what it looks like when this star burned out of holy gas
An Eagle Rock for the minions that used to be beyond the rocks that litter the land en masse
Of giants and tiny, invisible to the human eye #COQ19 virus from the holes punched thru
Our atmosphere was CLOSED and is now OPEN, thanks to the rockets, missiles and men.
Bags of groceries emptied into the camp’s fire for the minions to scurry around, just dance!
Ticking time TNT and the space between your ears, as my daddy used to say, it’s out of Air!
Opened wide at birth and shut tight as a drum by the time of a decade passed, to be or not
Survival depends on your ma & pa & then it depends on YOU and only YOU, it’s your shot!
Roll around the ellipse of emptiness, a plane of imaginary First Movements in an RNA Opus
Rhapsody in the acid rain and the pools of acid and alkaline, to be or not to be them, all of US
Nobody knows anything for certain except some mathematical computations about Bermuda
Where the bombs blew the corona virus into the next dimension, cocks and tails love Nevada.
Omega and Alpha for All, you will drive it home after you see the ball coming and hit the ball
Up and out of the park hundreds of times, trillions of times, dead in a Cool, California Hehl
A pool of the excess refuse floating on an ocean of oxygen and hydrogen mix, it’s a gold find!
Here comes the open mouth full of sharp teeth and in a moment, you sphinx’ out your mind?
In olden days, business as usual, lying and dying at the end of it, spinnin’ revolts of #KungFu
Now, a crown, a corona of the invisible and indubitable, will be yo' kingdom 'neath dirty Blue
Light-blinded, deadheads above gas bags of skin & bone, to be or not to be gods’ of bossanova
Delightful taxes of Gold income, melted in a cauldron of lead, Big Bang origin, a SuperNova!
Freemasons hiding secret data in a holy tabernacle of emptiness, a holy, hot rock nobody sees
Then and only then when you kill your personality you’ve inherited from the knowledge trees
Ladies of specific shapes & sizes in the men’s heads to populate the gene pool, fine and dandy
A million or a billion dollars of trillions, zillions in any case, too high, still smokin’, eye candy!
This ain’t no Mr Pickle from San Francisco streets of hills to die for, 45 degrees of up & down
Yet, there’s something to say for the shapes of cucumbers as far as input into an output frown
Without the injector of spunk, extinction is the only fond memory you’ll recall, weakness’ ilk
Who and what will become extinct next? Gods’ rose him from the dead, the spirit’s son, Milk!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Vendredi 27 mars 2020 Année du Seigneur, à 6h66 Ante Meridian, heure normale du Pacifique
{ Drafted out of the Void inside and outside of YOU, yeah, YOU and listenin’ simultaneously to Sir Elton John the Guinea Pig link @ https://youtu.be/en3gKL2MstU }
#GodsDanginIt
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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