#DirtyLowDown #CleanHighUp #RunninWiththeJones'

 
TIGHT AS A NUT ON A BOLT, THINGS HAVE CHANGED, LOSE THE NOOSE
I saw something moving in the corner, just inside of the shadow under the strangest table
Only two legs on that table but it's better than one, gravity pulls it six feet down a TV cable
Weilding a gold and silver coffin, waiting for the spell to prove that it's my magical stardust
Fallen from heaven down to Earth for a brief moment of causes and effects of rocks to rust.

Theresa, Josie, Gertrude and all of my grandmothers and great aunts, fell down here with birds
But there is not here and now, this Space in this Time find them long gone, left no cross Words
Written down for the edification of their progeny, blank pages of diary with Nothing t'all to say
Just hard times, wakin' up to work all day and sleep all night, no time at all for the stage's play.

Once upon nobody's time, a black hole sucked all things down into a Singularity, One that I am
In the end, conclusions in retrospect are justified circumstances of random acts of flotsam jetsam
Molecular recombinations of atomic charm, showing that the love is strong in Emptiness' agape
Unmoved, asleep in the cosmic soup, afloat with the solar wind's waves and frequencies on tape.

Screwing counter-clockwise or vice versa, there's a chink in the armor I've found, go round as pi
3.14 is all you can calculate as a cherry or blueberry pie will not do, a calculation of the empty sky
Your mind tossed from ignorance to enlightenment and back to forgetfulness' eternal recurrence
Takin' it easy or crashin' the whole shebang's a wash when you're gone, God Damn Man, it's over.

Creepin' inside of the secret speak-easy, where angels with alcohol fear to go, spirits whine shots
All go up & down with my hand and arm, into my face and up to my brain's mind, a rush of slots
Grooves to move the rolling balls around the matrix, expanding and contracting the rock essence
Magic words, waved wands, Abracadabra, please & thank you, goin' down the tubes in defense.

Recollect the good times when you're alive because they fade to black before you know it's gone
Remaining stardust, i sleep in it, i eat it in a myriad of forms to transubstantiate this form's bone
Two hundred and eight of them, tiny & some not so much, all too human cover for a ghost within
Loosened & tightened to make things secure in the real world, in real life, it's Americana redskin.

by
r j j stephan, i
c.  Samedhi, March 6th, 2021 Anno Domini @ 1:11 AMPST
{  Jammed out while listenin' to #KillAWord by @Eric_Church link @ https://youtu.be/R3rR9euQ5-4}
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?