SILLY GOOSE IN BLACK-FACE, HOLY MASS OF SPACE, DIRTY BIRD DOOMED FLOCK
Sevens rolled when elevens were seen by all except for the One, it's always about every lover
Not many just the One, a universal deep down inside of Nothing in particular, secret generals
All ordering the movement of idiots and morons who follow the herd of stinkin' & stunk over
A cliff by the edge of the coastal water, ends the Earth for us all, holy watershed, sacred Seals.
Apes and worms merge into this last detail on the final list of things to do, things to see, #Me2
Literally on the day you die, you are spent and have nothing left to acquire from flying undead
208 bones of spirits who got head to ten toes, no survival of death, even for the fit, all's askew
Continental drift of germs' dirty floors, unmopped, unswept, unswabbed deck & ghostly head.
Plums and road apples for every boy and girl lookin' to help their parents' extinction of species
Walking and then dying without any process other than deterioration and dissolution into Air
Gas both hard and liquid, different forms of the same thing, a thing itself in a vacuum, Minded
No way to know your ignorance, it's all yours & for your eyes only, subject, object, predicated.
Mother goose said it all & I wrote it down for minions to hear & disregard, a 3 strike box bust
Four balls out of the strike zone, shoulder to knees, an inch off of the home plate, knuckle ball
I catch, throw & I hit the ball with or without the good wood from pine & oak, all leftover dust
Bizarre & so grotesque as the monkeys flew across a dark cave's ceiling, disappeared in a wall.
Been everywhere & done everything although you don't believe what I'm sayin', dog's done!
Spent too much time in the warm oven waitin' to hatch when it was too late, daughter & son
Chewed the little ones and began from the egg & the gamete, a Thing itself divides the 7's Up
Cocksure of the conclusions, deduced out of the blue on black, ink on a page's reblow hubub.
No brain and no mind inside of a virus or a bacteria although without them, Nothing survives
Extinction of the love and hate streams of consciousness on a web of internet function's jives
Punks and young, toothless human beings without homes, without rivers that run through us
Blinded by lights, sightless light in Darkness' hole, a fast lane's trippin' Eagle on a magical bus.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Vendredi, May XXth, MMXXII Anno Domini at 711 AMPST
{ Simple minded #BlackHole on common ground, while I dabbled in the @Eagles flight in the #AudiophiledMaoists vacuum soul-portal @ https://youtu.be/MJL4EymEa9o }
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