Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, May 22, 2020
---------------------- #GloryBe ------------------------
A survival adaption for evolution to abuse and let me confuse and obfuscate burnt grass’ sod
Seeing the predators and being able to outfly & out-maneuver all the killers who burn bushes
Some skinned and deboned, just legs, wings and breast muscles of the all too human, my God
All of it, whatever it is, this starstuff matter that moves friction to burn it up into good fishes.
On being a holy sphere, circling a magnetic attraction, a burning gas tank of atomic mortality
Nothing caused by Intent of a Supreme or Inferior Will to Power, it’s an atomic comic of Me
When I’m dead & gone, it’ll be another story but as we commiserate, gravity’s collapsed, son
On you and I and the whole shebang from quarks to black holes’ supernovas, We are all One.
You may continue to believe in the blinded faith of ancestors in an immaculate concept toy
As if what we now call wisdom was anything more than an educated, wild guess at the Void
Cardinal numbers and bishopric pablum force fed to the Gerber babies and elder wise ones
All in lock step behind the march, in line and in moronic syncopation, circling the wagons.
From the perspective of the eagles in flight searching for the weak and slow, carrion breath
All of this air to fly in is a place to search for the things to kill and eat, that’s life, that’s death
Nothing else to it, more or less, it’s a resting place for things that eat each others super-germs
Evolving genomes to a random, cell malfunction, is the handiwork of God’s sacred sperms.
Now the bizarre inability to reason and use logic has begun to atrophy, peoples’ soylent green
Nothing left to eat except Fear itself and it’s the fuel that drives the hard drive and soft spleen
Power of Momentum of Will is about It, no more nor less blind, you’re getting what y’all see
Completed the mission from alpha to omega, one Singularity remains, cross T’s, dotted I’s, G!
Baby screams for comfort or food or mama and gets the pacifier for 17 years in a warm nest
Parents of the offspring are often if not always too young to teach their children to be a pest
So, the military function forces the innocent and the wild to become One Unit, survival’s sake
Survive death’s seventh son’s calling, leave us all for a One, it’s pink, pandemic wedding cake.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Friday, May 22nd, 2020 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST
{ Drafted listenin’ to Early Eric Clapton: EC WAS THERE @ https://youtu.be/bMiBbAvsFfY & The BAND Group #AtlanticCity link @ https://youtu.be/QFxXTO1t5yo }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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