GOD’S ABORTS, BUT WHY? HOW?
by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, September 23, 2020
Here’s one good reason to go on with the original sin fiasco, we got a raw con game to hide
The exact moment we opened our eyes and rolled out of the nest, the sack, a fool’s cave-hive
No matter if you’ve made a mistake or not, it’s a random roll of the die and I ain’t gonna faint
It’s not up to you or me this time around, it’s up to the powers that be, a thing itself we ain’t.
Time and the infinite Space to hide every spin of the Earth, a finite wobbling of divine blades
But this is it, all we have, from One to many, random concepts, above & below, Cielo & Hades
Desire what you need, stand up with your 208 bones and hundred muscles, will to be ego free
Liberty with no struggle’s impossible, alien fakes of humanity want SLAVES who’d love to be.
If I got you cowboys and girls to listen and agree with logic and reason, I am glad to be a Tool
Baby, launch your afterburners and animate your chronic fortune, spirits don’t bleed you fool
To be or not to be is never the question when you’re already here and now, left or right, skoal
There’s cream for the black cafe, my choice straight up, double shots down a deep black hole.
Strings of time warps moving the dots around without moving at all, what the hell’s that for
Universe doesn’t appear to be expanding to the human eye but an intellect to spread rumor
Here and now in old gardens that used to be Eden, a place for the idiots to advise & consent
My father named my mother Tree, he took a bite of the apple, got no knowledge, he got bent.
Miracle to halt, to cease and desist the animation, the movement of universal consciousness
At one means Life is contained and Unmoved, stopped the dimensional travel in dead heads
Exactly as it was the day before your mother and father conceived you in a holy, empty womb
No reason to be, it’s just a random desire to be mortal, to feel the morphological fool’s scum.
Purpose ends being nothing more than a way to avoid the thought of Nothing is outside Earth
One and we are all done, it’s all you have, your past, your present and an allotment of a future
Orphans and long lines of ancestors are all here & now, on top of the dirty, seventh continent
Believing, surviving, procreating, punishing, rewarding divine mystery with all heaven sent.
A single revolution of the Earth’s mass passing the Equinox phase, it’s a wobble-waffled orbit
Atomic and electron-like as we seem to be, the world turns, we live, we die as infinity sucks it
Gravitational pull to the center of this planet’s gods and men who pull down the bikini shorts
Magnetic liquid, solid-gas, a witch’s brew, divine holloween & more, we are the gods’ aborts.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Wednesday, 9-23-2020 @ 9:11 AM PST
{ Aborted out of the mind #PocololoVision this AM while listening to the mighty Armstrong & Getty on Talk 650 KSTE 06:00 - 10:00 AM PST & listenin’ to #VictimsOfTheFury by Robin Trower on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/r6Zcxj_UGXw}
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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