DROPPED BUMS, RUBBER-SOUL SMOKE FIRES & PRETENTIOUS OBSCURITY
Details existence on Earth's repetitive revolution & orbit, Catholic altar-paperboy trivial alien life
But why quibble upon the metaphysical when the ethical is the only philosophical, twitching wife
Your mothers, aunts, sisters, daughters, granddaughters & great ones, present at your woke wake
In or out of alien time's Huron, Superior, Erie, Ontario, Ohio or Michigan & Tatuk Fingerlakes.
Thrust out of this atmosphere on a rocket ship that may or may not return to an ol' world of chit
But when the nighttime comes, during that part of the Earth's revolution, faced away from Star
Looking deep into the darkness' distant parsecs, regurgitating the stunt of serfdom, king & czar
Ask any astronaut or cosmonaut or any nautilus, above or below, when you're dead, that is It!
What's on fire down in the valley, in the orchard, where the flowers grow, the posse's on guard
Nothing to see here, what's the tax on that? Nothing. Who is in charge of this? YOU. No I ain't
Like hehlla bovine manure, man, don't you know that it's all a ruse perpetrated by a will to faint
After one brief, unconscious thrust into the plethora of the matrix' gods, new found land of lard.
Recollect what life was like when mankind was free, oh wait, they'll never be free until it all ends
When mouth's remain agape & bowels move into a screaming eagle's smokin' end but in depends
Whipping up the crows of Jimmy, in flight or circling the bait, the prey, the buzzard's end of scree
On the border between the dictator and the oligarchy, there's no man or woman free to be thee.
Listen to Yankee Doodle Dandy & Jimmy Crackcorn and I don't care if you do or don't, yet I digress
From the beginning of my Time in this Space, many decades have moved where my memory tucks
Between my voice & hair or skull, that's where I am, not dead yet but I'm already gone, ya phuqs
Make no mistake, rubber soul words & a soundless, jazzy music offends babies, oh my God bless!
Death will kill you in the end, whether you believe in Ala, God, Buddah or a Third Eye's world war
Final jeopardy has an answer to a question but what concentration is, to be or not to be so funny
Regardless of all our alignment with cosmic order of things, lose it in fission and fusion, to die for
Supernova jungle boogie in Summer's breeze, critically racial, shallow wormhole of a boy, Sonny.
Beer thirty again, it's early in the AM and I don't care if you like it or not, in charge of the Canna
Karma I work off now or settle with A Providence present when I beseech mercy in my panic's pit
Death is the end of the line, who wants to repeat and erase ad infinitum, or even stay in Nirvana
It was always the way it is now, it'll always be this way, One Middle Way, gone DOG GOD of chit.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mardi, July XIII, MMXXI Anno Domini @ 9:11 Mountain Standard Time
{ Drafted attempting to offend the minions & degenerate civilization into utter chaos while listenin' to @GratefulDead #HITS on youTube link @ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJIYG8JOVwg&t=203s }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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