#PlasticHomme #Homey means Home?

I GOT AN AXE & A HILLBILLY BUT WE BIT THE DUST ANYWAYS

Wounded elbows and both knees, crippled by the arrowheads & buckshot lead

Never advised of the pain and suffering involved in a shoot out until you’re dead

If you survive the wounds intrusion into your oneness, extremely sublime above

Where wise men and fools fear to go, 8 miles higher than you recall, flyin’ dove.

No wingman on the solo flight from ground control and the radio silence rules

All alone in or out of the dream’s natural flow, from volcano’s snow too cool

Froze the gas, the water and kept far away from fire which annihilates what is

Clothed or naked apes make no difference, Platonic or Marxist, all that Fizzled.

Elevator operator let me down a million times a day, fully furnished face lifts

Born younger than the zygotic homeless, penniless peons on gravehard shifts

Abounding confidence in the false narratives leftover archangels who had sang

Wavelengths of seraphim spaces of Infinity, seraphim around a whole shebang.

Liberty from the gravitational collapse of the myriad of Truths & smoked pine

Way down below like there was no tomorrow, never a yesterday, just a sign

Of the cross, on head, solar plexi, shoulder wings, hands up, hand me downs

Hidee high an hide the hoes in Mary’s Garden of flowers, high off the grounds.

Jelly roll storm of sugar and sunshine, out of the witch’s oven, it ain’t your foes

It’s friends made between the epic eons, demon sequences like One, right here

Events to forget just like faked events already forgotten from all trumpet blows

Done featured my self with the creatures out of control, a random psycho-fear.

Loaves of bread falling out of control from outer space above and below us all

Why is the question, who feeds the helpless and hopeless down after the Fall

Foo fighters come in and out our lives, on the middle fork of the Tri-State’s pike

Friends look like they’re all mortals, all gonna die like me, Matter-Time hot-mic.

For what the butter is worth, the cow’s production, iced cream, yogurt, ½ & ½

Meeting at the Origin or the End of the line is the same thing, teats-up cow’s calf

Dream where you wake up before it’s all over, know it’s gonna wait a minute to

Be over forever, all the star dirt self-satisfied with the self’s worth, stoned blue.

Billy never did live on planetary Earth, wild comic book tales of a hero & villain

Idiots & their moronic offspring moving concepts into the vortex of night moves

You know where I’m comin’ from, you know the score, no accessible kid’s gloves

Haunted on a witch’s spell’s wish to terminate the ballerinas & the fugly braves.

Cancers deleted in the DNA/RNA acids’ holy codes, random evolution’s products

Recombined for no reason, extinct for no reason, hungry and eaten, a dumb-fox

Met you and you met me too, forgive me for forgetting your face, all half breeds

Smokin’ candles and leaves of the grass grown from scratch mutations of seeds.

On no coast of any continental drift, seven, six or eight, just Babylon rockin’ ‘em

People without wing things, good & plenty for all, no robes to wear, haven funk

Red robin singin’ to the one to synch-up the seed & egg of mortal synchro-punk

Problem solved, giddy-up with horses & money balls’ flask bottles of #151 rum.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Samedi, January XIVth, MMXXIII @ 711 AMPST

{Concocted from the Void while listenin’ to @VanMorrison #ProtectorOfAngels link @ https://youtu.be/H_oVTgYBQRU}

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?