BUSTED DOWN, CRYIN’, ON BEING A FOOL
You and the city disappeared from the face of Earth, a place in Space cut into ‘holier’ earlobes
Could not hear the natural beauty everywhere in sight, needed two holy ears full of my probes
From the existence of the predators to the demise of the prey, marinating protein-DNA bones
Mincing the meat into the power to move the thing itself, 208 bones of refused essence tones.
On the floor or in the bed, dreaming while you walk about the ground of being is the It, It Is
That is everything that is everything, no free choice in the matter of essence, God’s cosmic tea
What it all comes down to is that you know a little more than nothing, uneducated guessing
I am what I see in the looking glass before falling down an empty, black hole full of blown It.
Inside the stars’ black blanket, a black board of voidness without any soul, Nothing’s matrix
Infinity’s unlike the things themselves here in the finite world, I come and go with cool tricks
Priests and doctors cannot fix the death that breaths your air, looking in through the outcries
My mother, my father, my sisters and brothers, have no faith in Nothing yet, It is all there Is.
Found my teeth still in my mouth, behind my lips’ gnashed microcosmic kiss of atomic fusion
Imagine a speck of you and you are dust in the wind, nowhere to go, nothing to do, just to Be
One with the Many split atoms from solar fission, fusion, an event horizon Singularity creed
Montana to Florida, Spain to China, North Pole to Antarctica and Nome, Dead Dream-Free!
Power and weakness are one and the same feature of the thing itself, particle physics of soul
What It is, nobody knows, blind faith in the high crimes and misdemeanors of house moles
Coming in from the outside of the container, the intent is to mesmerize the psyche’s drunks
Forcing the Super Ego to regurgitate the personality your parents left over, a menudo of funk.
Are you with me now? Stay right there, sit quietly, stop thinking ‘bout yesterday & 2 ‘morrow
Right here and right now in this Presence of Being, This is the Prize for being a concept blow
From benign, vacuumed cosmic dust we come outta nowhere full of nonsense, ad infinitum
One full stop, out of gas, windless, motionless, awareness’ black hole thing, here, now, me!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Janvier 25th, 2020 Anno Domini @ 3:33 AM PST
{ Drafted out of the Void @ 3 AM, it took ‘bout an hour to bleed-out without a link to #SuperIntelligence re-formed Form & Matter @ https://youtu.be/mg7netw1JuM }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
