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PAX ON Y’ALL, 1833-1896 ALFRED
Some say that there’s a time for everything but nobody knows who said it first, but who GAS?
Nobody cares if they’ve got the correct information to formulate conclusions regarding reality
Therefore, they move about the field of dreams & find the miserable lives floundering in scat
From their own kin’s aberrant behavior to the herd mentality of the mass of civilization, drat!
Fortune is a lucky injection into the causes and effects that become what is in the end, Life
A game or a serious enterprise of the Many who apparently worship the One, under the Sun
In any case, a rhyming series of thoughts and ideas to end in the final destinations sweet spot
Steal that ticket, that’s the Way, somebody else will do it if you don’t, act that power, Know It!
Then with the Unknown in your rat-snitchin’ corner, go about your animation feeling, king
Or a queen as the case may be, either way, essence of the human species is a Substance thing
Where the atomic and subatomic merge into the vortex of the Singularity, it’s never my fault
A messenger from the belly of the beast, upchucking the Lord at a last supper, for sinner salt.
Lord is overlord or under-lord but in any case, a creature feature of comedy and tragedy plays
Child and adult play their games until that bitter end corpus dilecti calling of the end of days
It doesn’t matter that the universe, galaxy and solar system are big, infinitesimal good fights
What matters is that funky, religious, apolitical skew of philosophy’s End of Queen’s knights.
On a south Monterey beach of the Pacific coast, California golden rock in a San Andreas fault
Come in the 1800’s and leave in the 2020’s and the beat goes on to infinity in a goddess’ vault
Dripping karma from seven holes in the head, tears from heaven on my way to touchdowns
Trippin’ over the footing in a headwind just before resuming the backstroke on Mimi’s bones.
Alpha males and Omega females make the world go ‘round in circles ad infinitum or they die
Without recombining their DNA product of their own ancestry’s random trip under The Sky
Therefore, besides flyin’ around the sun in space and not knowing why, there is no accident
Earth came from a Big Bang and is a microscopic bit of dust in the Cosmos’ collection of rent.
My crafted argument leaves any who follow to the deduced conclusion, then out go the lights
There is no liberty or free will choice in the mechanism, it’s a necessary condition for the con
You’ve got to blindly believe in the meaning of words, as you understand them to mean Fun
Games played between birth and death, back to sleep, as the tamed souls eat growling bites.
Yes, therefore there’s no disagreement, logic rules of reason in Zen order of subjective objects
Become the predication of the animals we’ve enculturated into fruit of animal sex production
From the skin outside to the bones and horns that frame the beasts, all of those survived sex
Brutal to the females and weak males, in defense of the useless, soft male, what’ll be will be.
If you must kill or be killed to stay alive yourself or keep your loved ones safe above & below
Interior to our Earth down to the core of it’s being, hot as the sun’s exterior, It needs a blow
From the battles of Montezuma’s halls, Tripoli’s shores or the American Civil War fratricides
My friends and kinfolk are forlorn sequestered behind their homes walls, not homeless & old.
Bricks in the wall are all there is and they’ve been reformed from the original star dust of Sols
Madmen don’t burn PRIZES in Americas’ or Euro-Asians’ 21st century thrones of good times
Space’s Time isn’t animated by nature, a paradoxical singularity generates Warp, black holes
Therefore, I’m what I’ve always been since my origin, empty fixation on narrow word rhymes.
A gist to the whole shebang leaves no question that Nothing has been what it’s all about, eh?
Emptiness outside of the matter of atoms which coalesce into forms of shaped dust to play
One happened first and then there were many, similar but not precisely like the One’s DNAs
So, it begins, therefore it ends, shirt off my back, out in the street, barefoot, robbing its divas.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Lundi, September 14th, 2020 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.??
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