#FillerUpWithEthyl #PremiumHoser @Armstrong_GettyRadioShow #kste650AM @kste650AM

HOOKED UP BACKWARDS, WONDERING RIGHT TO LEFT CODEX

Trophy catch from the first to the finale of acts whether awakened or just as woke as can be

The play goes up and down, in and out like dead cows and fish, even the cultured milk, spicy

Pepper black & red, garlic salt & secret sauce of a King of Burgers’ & Queen of Dairies’ graves

I will eat that HOHO with or with or without you, if you want a bite, speak up like the braves.

All of the holy seeds of destruction are deep inside of the holes in the ground, doubt a truth

False as the fake news you broadcast while in creative control, it’s repeating forsoothe ooze

Compelling historical repetition of the past coming about into our presence, accounted for

Sordid sortie a lynch mob’s proxy ends the whole shebang in a chemical spill’s neck noose.

Idiotic morons both in charge and following the regulated wills to power, all are for the One

Free will, bold-faced lying as I got stoned, blind faith’s unseen concepts, God can’t be all I be

Yet if this Is all there is, you best hurry and get your personal affairs in order, you follow me?

This is your last reminder, displayed holograph & singular hole’s holy blackness, son oh son.

Randy the Wilson and Greg the Giles followed the timeline to the end, the finish of the skull

Preyed upon, terminated either by damnation or excommunication by the papa of Italian bull

Running for the politician who will never be able to persuade the many that the Good is Evil

Loser will lose, apes all naked underneath the slacks and skirts, hermaphroditic con job, so ill.

Bon is good and the thing we know as the thing we all need for the bottom’s line, end of scat

All sugar and cookies, whipped cream on top of the rocky road’s mellow marsh, nuts & that

Harps playing for you and me, as if we have no choice but to leave the host, the matrix tricks

We have no choice other than staying awake, seeing things while #Woke or hear no hot licks.

Reminder, recollect the forgotten memory that cannot be recalled, probably the impossible

Whether reality, daydream, illusion or nightmare, matter or energy, It’s lightspeed’s decibel

I remember backward from perfect woman to the girls mal trained by cops and blue collars

I didn’t kill myself or anybody else, but I ate all the dead meat baked or fried, God’s cannibal.

Probably isn’t possible to comprehend the nature of the divine or the created ilk as we all are

Here and now is the proof in the pudding, tasted soft and cold, swallowed a hole in one’s par

Drove the 180 yards over the trees and traps, past the rough onto the chartreuse green skin

Stopped a millimeter short of an 18th hole, speck of dust halted it, wobbled pebble beach sin.

Jack went back to do it again, tried to get my time stoned away from the powers that be all US

Liberty and indentured servitude are not choices, they’re the luck of the draw, a die overthrown

Snake eyes or pairs of twos to your sixes, all are for the One and the One is for them, gone down

Evacuate Who’s waste, eliminate it, recycle it back into the Earth’s leftover star dirt, a magic bus.

Harm between the conscripted followers of leaders who really believe extinction is preferred to be

Rather than following the rules and laws of the landowners of foreign powers, religion and policy

Rules to keep the status quo from mutating into the extinction of the species, it’s all going to Hades

In a handbasket or behind scenes like magic sleight of hand, conflicted WW3, say bye-bye, fades…

Law abide or broke, in the end it doesn’t really matter, to wit, implode or explode in a black hole

Turn into a Singularity you cannot see until you merge with its sound, it’s hummin’ along, let’s roll

Time of the day you’re rootin’ in the mud, blood and the beer like a larger-than-life pig, hog, swine

You’re the herder of the stye’s content, the caged elephants know why the monkeys keep the shine.

Got bawls as the gang used to say, I was not inside of the lineup, I’m a windstorm with big thunder

Lightening like I stuck goddess’ fingers into the electric sockets in my four walls, queen of blunder

Some girls are your friends and some want to treat you like a black widow spider, get my drift, sir?

Oh man! Come on man, you’re in the infinite menudo, you fell, your fault, the Line’s a high blur.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Vendredi, II-XXIV-MMXXIII Anno Domini @ 911 AMPST

{Drafted during the daily drama, my diary of mankind, while jammin’ to @Xtina link @ https://youtu.be/elOCH3vcZFM}

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?