CANDY EQUATION'S UNSOLVED 'X', AN ABSOLUTE, SINGULARITY OUT OF HAND
Forever and one more day, just one more than the one that's already a given on a rock & roll
Chip off of the old block, my pops was a teenage navy vet from WWII, I'm an ex-con pothead
Paid my debt to society that didn't give a hoot about me until I tried to skirt the outlaws' hole
Tried to get in and out before the trail was laid down for the bloodhound trackers just ahead.
What is the code of the language scribbled on the blackboard, is there order to the fake chaos
Appearances can be deceiving and sometimes you don't have the essence in sight, aim at us
You know this is where it's all at down here above the Mason-Dixon line, one arpeggio away
We all seem to retain some pre-muscle memory from our seed, microscopic piece of a baby.
August and July come once every year, named for the two Roman Caesars of olden days dicky
Seems as though they've succeeded at remaining steadfast in their intention to rob the cradle
While that baby is rockin' & rollin' it ain't being a pain in mother's and father's rib cage rattle
Within no error of distance, figures calculate bristles on a hair brush, gotta utilize the trickery.
Hillbillies and the uppercrust elite have children via the same method, blue and black of blight
An epidemic from a laboratory rat who scurried into a freighter headed for China or ourselves
I'm rollin' with or without the silver bullets, I used 'em all yesterday in a fire fight, my F4 flight
I action for the stash of cash, high performing punks in the hood and above the top shelves.
Steppin' off into the parental discretion for rhymes that rope you into the loser to tempt fate
Funky or in the dirt, the dicks move in and out creating the raps and the vibes of monkey hate
To smoke it ya gotta roll it, light it or make a brownie cake, hell I'm the one & only holy chunk
Streets criss crossed, sidearms with an attitude, lit up the black holes, slitherin' in dope funk.
A boatload of foreign-speaking, babbling humanity, landed there in error, inebriated, drunken
Fast forward centuries & here & now we're in 2021 after a divine God was DNA cloned human
From a virgin and a carpenter came the humane movement, to know why a humanitarian can
Pretend all's well, speeding in circles as do punks playin' ball, wobbling vibes all slam dunkin'.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Samedhi, June XXVIth, MMXXI Anno Domini @ 11:11 AMPST
{ Drafted this TETRAGRAMMATON gem while listenin' to 3 hours of #ThreeStooges epic slapstick link @ https://youtu.be/R43TUqp2q8g }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
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