SPORES IN YOUR MIND'S EYE, A BLINK & IT'S LIKE IT'S YOUR '#A' GAME
Why aren't we so happy that we're dancin' in the streets, #Lockdown is all over now
The animal and plant species of Earth have survived the devastating effects of a show
For the minions alive and dead, it makes no sense and that explains the blinded fates
They know not what they do because they're ignorant beasts of burden with mates.
Reproducing DNA in a finite world, as if there is any pure reason, regurgitated bones
Skin in the game to reconcile the discrepancies created by the society's enculturation
It's nobody's fault that's alive right now, dead men, queens & kings of a scorching sun
It's up to each one of us to either modify the notion or the conception to be at One.
Adam and Eve constructed mythological explanation for being alive on this spasm
Some random collision of divinity's successes and failures, chain reaction of plasm
It's Charm, it's Love and subatomic protons are uninhibited friction, orgasmic Cake
Pork and beans, pig and the legume create the miracle fruit of the loom, god's sake.
Nothing is the same as something like the center of a zero on paper, a dot in a matrix
Touch of today's islands & all seven continents, all used to be isles of mountains here
The Hydrogen and Oxygen is leaking out into the outerspace around our original sin
It can't be recovered, water levels decreasing due to this Big Bang, bong evaporation.
When the moonlight I cast in your eyes blinds you for a minute, revolution is doomed
Shapes & forms of the bricks and the mortar before the afterbirth, in a womb's room
Clearly disintegrate into invisible pieces of the substance, conceptually analyzed dead
Everything else in space between all things is Nothing, matrix bent, emit a spore head.
I believe you can't find the nut inside of the shell unless you crack it, it's hard as a rock
Running through the creation of the nut from the seed of a tree, s mortal immortality
Perrenial metalogic and the speed of the light coming out the sun are First Cause of I
Me, you & everything animated or dead as a stone, we all give up the spook, My son!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mardi, 1er février deux mille vingt-deux A.D. à dix heures du matin. {Tuesday, 2-1-2022}
{ Counting the crows moving out the cornfields & listenin' to #TheMightyTemptations #Masterpiece link on youTube @ https://youtu.be/0vvuhLZiPA0 }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
#MEandSHEfoEva
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