ROCKIN’ HARD BING BONG, JAZZ
Dreams I will have or not, come true every single time, no dream means nothing to see here
Astronaut confirmed, something is moving quickly in space and it’s not the Humans of fear
I had a secret but I found out that everybody already knows this fact of life, replicate and die
Or don’t replicate, just live and die in L.A. or Chicago, London or Tripoli trying to get so high.
It’s not my fault that the lame apes are rattling their cages, I hear the commotion loud & clear
For the purpose of being, origin of human DNA is a ghost pretending to work for white bread
I’m begging you to walk along the watchtower without me, a step away from a shot and a beer
Negative interest & neutral power idling, pistons combusting sparks of coitus’ fruit of dread.
Black hole sun, a son of gun, every man’s everything, worries and intentions of the realm
Where and when things happen is right there in front of our very eyes, what we see is film
At 5 or at 10, either way the things themselves wander and wonder about the nature of life
Universe down to the quark, it’s all one and the same, the unknown, it’s all about my wife.
Attempting to forget about the fact that you are dreaming, sleeping in your ma’s father’s bed
Flowers or feathers both softer than the rocky crags of a dead star, Earth’s ground, the dead
Miraculous conviction and blind faith in the Word and the Given, as if Life depends on This
Speech, sounds, songs, sweet nothings in her ear, I am her Father, take my daughter in Bliss.
It’s on the road, the purple and silver projectile of the Greco-Roman spear-gun, a remote rat
Thoughts left over once flesh and bone rotted back into the Cosmic Stew hodgepodge in a vat
I’m alright now and nobody worries about me, no worries, it’s all good, we’ve got this mirage
It seems real, it is not real, it’s an illusion of confusion, it’s what we do, how we roll on stage.
Portions of the broadcast are pre-recorded as opposed to post-recorded, it will never, ever be
Once it’s transmitted into the ether, it’s at the point of no return, there’s no rebate or do over
Everyone and everything is in the same ocean liner, it floats until it sinks, locked in a coffin
Of and for old Davy Jones the monkey and the pirate’s seven seas’ foundation of mortal sin.
Nice to sin in a vacuum where accountability is a no brainer, if you act, you are the bad actor
Once an act is performed, the actor’s responsible for repercussions, slams of Thor’s hammer
Thunder Bear & Thunder God both reign above and below the empty vacuum, it’s all Homer
Comedy and tragedy, my Royce ride, I’m what it’s become, a word-up-Pin, there Is no Other.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Dimanche, August 9th, 2020 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST
{ Ruptured the fabric of Space and Time this AM, while listenin’ to the mighty #WARtheBand #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/hKmGUIM1uAI }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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