HOY
HOVERING ABOVE & BELOW A SKELETON’S KEY
When you animate the dead rocks lying next to the muddy water river
Your mind is a tool for the gravitational collapse in store for your quiver
Arrow and bow without a target is useless, you got to shoot, no twitching
On target, a bull’s eye which hurts them more than it does me, no missing.
Gain of your functions of the calculus, of men and mice, gods and devils
Every form’s shape of all things themselves, replication of gold in the hills
Figures scratched in dirt, on sand, chipped rock slate, written on the wall
Just so you know the truth, the lie and why dialogue happens in a squall.
Broken promises and the 208 bones that animate until the soul cops out
As if you can’t be immortal, pain and suffering on Earth & then, I doubt
You’ll disagree, maybe you’re kitty & the pot can’t be won, no maverick
Poppin’ caps and corn seem to be all you can do, death makes me sick!
But nothing is up to me or you, no life form comes from Nothing you see
All forms of cytoplasm reproduction began on Earth when They landed
Who are ‘they’? What was ‘it’? Who are we now? A Ghost’s Christmas
Born on Earth to die and go to Cielo above, heaven as it is, All that I was!
by
r j j Stephan, i
c. Freezember XVI, MMXXII Anno Domini, Vendredi @ 1010 AMPST
{ Ripped out the fabric of plasma I found underground with a #Gold doubloon, while jammin’ to #NothingEvenMatters by @LaurenHill link @ https://youtu.be/zASJBw0R0gM }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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