GOT THE NERVE, TIME OUT @DILBERT IN YO’ HEAD’S
SPACE
As I lie about laying in the death bed of the dead who died before me, it’s just nothing to see here Nothing to worry about for you and yours, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers & all the Holy Names
Reason is your mind won’t make it past a final gasp of air you take out of the Ether’s 6 pack of beer
Hops and barley ground and leaked from a Chinese laboratory or eating of swine & rats & reindeer.
Chopped into the tiny subatomic and invisible to the human eye, not the microscope or telescope
Distortion is not the way to be happy for the rest of your life, on the other hand just smoke dope
Choice of freedom or indentured servitude, ask any boy or girl, any man or woman, any ol’ body
Even though the strong survive a conflict, Nothing alive lives forever, ain’t no soul of immortality.
What there is may be everything you sense, eyes, ears, mouth, nose and the misery associated
On top or at the bottom of the pile of scat leftover by the powers that be in tombs of the dead
Everything between the two extremes will atrophy and in a matter of epochs will show and tell
Gold & silver spoons’ old money, inherited by the first to come, Soy-lent Green is all the people.
Monkeys and the people who appear related but apparent heirs to the Big Bang original sin
Given a last chance to be good and not evil, somebody chose to make a new rule, a law of kin
You know the definition of self-defense so you must follow that one certainty or else, caput
If you don’t live then the world as you know it will not exist any further, no output or input.
Robots ain’t humanity, get over the mortality sooner than later, all good for the goose & gander
Park your Tesla car in Harvard’s backyard and fly your Leer jets into Monterey or way up yonder
Peer pressure is the least unimportant and most effective pressure other than the fear of death
Threats of loved ones works which ones you love and which ones you don’t know, take a breath.
There is a common ground, below or above the plane of the planet, inner or outer Space’ reaper
Grim not so much but the Ends of Everything, now that’s really Something, timing is everything
Sins are wonderful from the point of view of dead men & women who had to play with our mind
Talking big sisters, little brothers, matricidal and patricidal tide of fighting to death, Truth to find.
Sensitive kind or as hard as brass nickels in a cash register, every thin g melds in a menudo finale
Blackness blocks out the light of Truth, black is the absence of light, ultraviolet to infrared Big Sur
Simply more complex than any ability I’ve gleaned from seven decades, Life is a girl called Corazon
Santana played the music that moved the 208 bones to and fro, head back & forth, aye, aye amour.
Too much to see & not enough remembered of what was seen as the present, now just the past
Wrinkles and creases in the recollections, filled in lines blanks with the best BS to be all my best
Onto the fourth dimensional chess game with rules made up as you move, mutate each strategy
On a checkmate, I’ll have to hit the road, I’ll have to go, No Mas, mi amigo, losers for a peso, see?
As it has always been before you & I arrived to perish the preconceptions and high-brow talkin’
Like you’re the Marx brothers, Groucho, Harpo, Karlo, Zeppo, Gummo & Chico, hey, who is @Karlo
Oh that marks the spot where the comedy turns into the narrative of those with no grasp of humor
Not that everything is ph’qqn’ hilarious, but you’ve got to admit, life is a series of all good smokin’.
Punches are all about the Timing, the Timing is everything, pause or continue my blokes’ gangs
Always dreamin of sharin’ the days and nights with the love I cannot live without, sung songs
Of rhythm and the blues that follow the rules of the road, the facts of life and the lucky draws
Not much we have to do with the outcome, it’s directed from the, Nothing as the crow caws.
In the deep pool, at the bottom where nothing can see nor be seen by the swallowing goldfish
Monkeys and the four-legged things and X=forms of the menagerie all coalesce a dinner dish
Peak just below the end of the lines where the brave men feared to go, ALL was much too high
A climb would cause a tumble and deadly fall to the ground of being, all jealousy that I can fly.
Late show as hard to come into view as the past 24 hours you’ve already purged, mind shrunk
Into the things without mass, the energy angels of the good and the wicked jokers of the funk
Created from a thought, an idea just a phantasm of the light in the pure darkness of the Fight
Impersonal black is black, I want my baby back, like the song we heard, Remember the Night.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Lundi, February XXVIIth, MMXXIII Anno Domini #HappyBirthdayDaddio 2-27-1927 – infinity
{ Jammed this out listenin’ to #MARIA by #BWStevenson link @ https://youtu.be/mAQlg2qSR2w }
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