SANDY DUNES & ADAM’S MAMA
by
----------------A hella snooze ----------------
Adam at one in a place’s Space where Time itself has run out of ticks, where I am now, here
So I walk alone in the darkness, under the moonlight, from dusk until dawn, creating the beer
In kegs, cans or long neck bottles, all the hops and grain making the alcohol of a mind’s hole
My paperclips have all disappeared from sight, neither on my desk nor on a mind’s eye soul.
If you can see deep into the miracle you cannot believe is true, you’ll know the Truth, all of it
First, you are not alive, you don’t exist on this planet or anywhere else in the universe, awshyt
But the importance of the consciousness of midnight blues of the purple people eaters scrum
No gods left over for the sewer of gravitational collapse, down a rabbit hole into a maelstrom.
UFO on the completed mission for the galaxy and it’s microscopic quarks that roll downhill
Not due to gravity but due to the weight of the thought, the idea, the ghost who runs the kill
Some live to eat and some die to keep the living alive, to be eaten and shat back into the scat
Where darkness and light exchange the photons, neutrons, psychos and sycophants did shat.
Ready to leave the planet’s ground of being? Nevermore, I won’t go, I will recycle to and fro
Gods and the emptiness of the Void, begin and end the whole shebang, I cannot tell a lie, no
It’s the Truth of the Way, it’s narrow and only one way from where you came from, go ahead
Tricks and the fools who perform these acts of contrition, I confess I am asleep in my hot bed.
Particular and general the magic comes and goes in and out of my conscious awareness, jerks
Just because you’ve lived inside of this comic book of divinity doesn’t mean you got the perks
Equality and neutrality are the qualities of a whore house of divine, #FakeNews of demonics
In a tailspin from the hilt of the atmosphere down to the core of being, holy carp, dirty tricks.
Fiction and Reality merge right now, you and I are here and now but soon won’t be, you get it
There’s no other option than complete, utter system shutdown, no soul, no spirit, zero output
Ends are complete, there is no other reason for the state, the reproducing of DNA and a funk
Cosmos’ inn of recycled star dust, burning hydrogen & helium, create elixir O2, I’m so drunk.
Pricks of a needle to inject the opium venom, making your mind swell & not care about scat
Alleys of Chicago, trash cans lined blocks, both sides of the backyards, it’s where I come from
Where I played hoops alone, nobody would play on my blue paint blackboard, broken, I’m fat
Bad-boy rotten apples were the city’s genii, struggled to survive in sand dunes of fake sitcom.
Tragedy that you rock and roll alone when there is a crowd, it’s a necessary condition for genii
Not being one, I assume that’s all the truth about a condition of being all too human, so funky
Amazing to be downtown, full of the junk in my veins, the wind of the city got me way too old
Into the present, back from 45 years, Desplaines to the Highlands’ lotus, loved my fool’s gold.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Saturday, May 9th, 2020 A.D. @ 4:11 AM PST
{ Drafted listenin’ to @Vanillafudge #YouKeepMeHanginON on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/R3ChToIvLRM }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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