FAR AWAY SIDE DISH OF THE VOID
by
************** #VOGUE ***************
Love ya ‘til I die little queenie, you choose from the gallery of adolescence in the cosmic stew
Found on road, dead as a door nail, unable to resurrect the corpse, who’s no savior of the few
Singin’ birds, croakin’ toads, like my daddy did, not as sweet tears flow from clowns and fools
Songs’ words in and out of rhythm, rhyme, sonnets, epic sagas, I love me when my lip drools.
Dreamt of the Narrow Way and passed by the Matter and Energy into the cities of the angels
The words used to open the doors were like magic, I’m pleased and I’m thankful for the real
Making something nice and beautiful out of the ash and leftover crust of a burned, dark star
American Way or the Other Way or no Way at all, from Tibet to Tallahassee and back, so far.
Wishing and hoping for the Faith and Charity from that Hope will not uncover the far Ends
Pleasant or joyful, only One Way my genome wants to be, martyr toward all the evil friends
From the origin of the production of the zygote unto the remaining, disturbing memory too
Life’s a living thing, animated or anchored, grounded, flyin’ in clouds, try on a dream shoe.
Bridges built by humanity up to the top of the world’s center of being, angels fear to go there
What is old, Old York where the things themselves moved about the Bronx and Brooklyn fair
Songs sung, poems read, hair pulled out by the roots, all the passion of a Jersey Devil quack
Deprived and inhumane, we enter Doom, roller derby queens found a dark bar in Hackensack.
Words coming out of my mouth, produced from the jumbled thoughts of those who died then
After they thought about thoughts and jumbled them into a coherent philosophy of my zaZen
On the rats and the civilized apes who came long before my arrival in the mother’s void room
A gift of climactic passion dangled as a reward for inseminating the holiest emptiness’ tomb.
Slow down your roll mighty One from nowhere I know, not from this Earth, a soul of the gods
Roaming without a final destination in an immortal comet’s tail of smoking cinders, Hot-rods
Forms of the matter come and go,regardless of the ethics or morality of the Wills in all Things
To be animated or cease moving, stepping stones, look through a telescope at Saturn’s rings.
All of the remains to remember when the Past was the Present and the Future that never was
Anywhere you walk in my footsteps, you will get to where I got to, Ends like the origin, rock
Nothing is more cold than being all alone in a huge universe without anyone but One’s face
Everywhere I go to breathe the gas, it’s always there but I heard there’s emptiness in Space.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Friday, August 7th, 2020 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST
{ Drafted while listenin’ to @BareNakedLadies & #IfIHadAMillionDollars & #OneLessSetOfFootstepsOnYourFloorInTheMorning Jim Croce & #GreatestHits on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Y-55nhfkn4Q }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.? 
No comments:
Post a Comment
YOUR 2 cents...if you don't mind? ;-)