NEVER MET A WOMAN, VAMANOS...
On a scale where your mother and father put all hands on deck, tattoo grim young-bloods’ skin
For the sake of the middle class on shaky ground moving underfoot, high immortality’s sin
You have got to be pulling my leg with this blame game of fake responsibility’s fake news
Who you are and who you know is who you blow and who blows you, it’s a tit for tattoos.
Give me liberty or give me death, that has already been arranged against the Will of Man
Will of either the Greek or Roman or presocratic punctures in the argument for a Woman
Only with both the Man and the Woman will the species thrive and survive in a tiny bubble
In order to adapt to the wingless angel flight, the seven continents drying, God’s wobble.
Frequent entry into the outerspace between my ears causes happiness to warm my soul
Drinking a toast to you and me because it’s some kind of wonderful, to be in a Time hole
On a scale where your mother and father put all hands deck, raised the youngbloods up
From the hospital near the ghetto’s neighborhood, some abbreviate that to a trophy cup.
Overall from the first to the final stage, my best will be lucky enough, but why, holy moral sin
Hit the flag on the last bounce of sacred bluegrass green, lights are always on my eyes to bet
Balls to hit and to roll, to catch and throw in a hole, over a goal’s post or in a goalie’s webnet
You’ll tread the identical path on the way to your majestic finale, lips agape, eyes wide open.
All hands on deck for all but the CO, she’s already there waiting, don’t pass go or collect $200
You’re going to jail sooner or later, even though I think that wouldn’t be cool, with or without
All free will, your free soul, moves to hide temporarily or permanently, a conscious awareness
It peeks through stone & iron curtains, slit Mona Lisa’s neck with my sword for Roman Nazis.
Words move quickly between the mind and the understanding of the rational thinker, the Id
Not the super Ego or the Ego since they are both immersed and invested in the life of the kid
Little boys and girls grow, learn to comprehend the nature of Truth and Lies, trumping aces
Straight and narrow road, once momentum kicks in is an easy Way to Live in faces of races.
Burn words, burn bones, flash flood or freeze the entire planet’s content, it’s above and below
My spell’s one of the sixteen sung about in the song about a chuck wagon rollin’ down a road
Fifteen attempts to flesh out the bubble and each time almost there, tripped and fell too low
So far below that there is nothing above nor below The Void, pray to God I’m no secret code.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Jeudi, August 6th, 2020 Anno Domini @ 3:11 PM PST
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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