**************************************************
SEE
BLINDFOLDED, garbage DREAMS OF THE #WOKE
Blind fear of nothing at all, neither particular nor in general, I, an Omnipresent, blinded eyeball
I might be already gone from the surface of the planet, it’s possible I’ve been alive before y’all
Shadow curtains getting ready to close the finale, there will be no encore, this is all there is guys
Hair upon your head don’t matter, shaved clean, it’s not My Thing, no-refund #JudyInDisguise.
At One third eye in the middle of the human forehead, inside the skulls & bones of Earth’s Lifers
Gods do not comprehend the filter’s job, to filter the good for fuel and defecate the bad low lifers
Witches and warlocks phone into the talk show every night, on brooms or in their mom’s room
Breeding, mating to duplicate your greater grand parents’ birthrights, creator’s procreation doom.
Need fermentation to enter the pie hole frequently to imbibe the spirit of the nonsense, free will
To do whatever you please, requires will to be free yet nothing’s free, nobody’s free until in Hehl
That’s anywhere outside of this atmosphere, body, soul or spirit you don’t even know, ring my bell
Ding, dong like the school’s bell in the school yard, in the middle of the game of IT, Chicago my hill.
Moved around in the forces of the Air, served the masses and the countries citizen dependency
Upon the bravery and fortune of your mother’s labor, not your father’s lucky break at decency
Married my pregnant girlfriend that shouldn’t have spread thigh legs under a bridge way too far
All it took for me to enter the platform, the stage was set and my acting needed an Emmy, Oscar.
Although Romans, Greeks and Neanderthal primates had control then, they’re all dead, cock sure
Figuratively and literally, from the history of the past, the unwritten present & conjectured future
In one hundred years from today, hardly any of us alive right this moment will be then, we choose
Spending the serious reverence of our silence in the presence of the holy scat of Gods’ fake news.
Earth, the Wind and the Fire we get from the burning gas ball above and below the minions’ dirt
Moving until dying and being burned or buried without ceremony if you’re an orphan-virgin hurt
Babies come and go, some before and some after their Time in Space, nothing matters as much
As the secret will be unspoken to morons and idiots who don’t know they are, all human touch.
Ennui of your inner self and your building log cabins and rock-cement skyscrapers of plastic scat
Bent into forms of circles, squares, triangles, pyramids, cubes & mutations survivors who shat
Upon the dreams, the projections of strangers who guessed and were wrong about the Holy eye
You’ve got it if you’re reading this, you can’t have it if you ain’t got what it takes to kiss the sky.
Literally and figuratively, you cannot be the pretender who is all too human, peanut in a shell
One of the many stepped upon the bar room’s wooden floor, all the deadwood from the dell
Farmers and ranchers gave us the luck to make a buck, gleaned the existence of ancestor ice
Formed the power, the knowledge and the wisdom, survival of the fittest, no mercy, no dice.
Rolled with the punch, it was a knockout I didn’t see comin’ in for the beginning of the ends
One of the many that come and go, some with ceremony & most without, just a crossed heart
A one-liner, crisscross symbol that you cannot look at since it’s invisible, hock of pigs offends
Compare your fractions of an imaginary One, break it up more or less than mama’s birth phart.
I shot you fatally in the dark, but I didn’t know my .44 was loaded, Doc told me I was good to go
I saw, I went and I got what I saw but I didn’t intend to leave the slippery slime of my bad blow
Began the end, conceived the last human on Earth without ever going to the super bowl of feet
Football or Rugby or just Touch, I did them, I played, I sat on benches, I hurt in practice’s sheet.
From Lincoln Park or the Harlem-Irving Plaza drive-in movie, parked my roadrunner on a grave
Went around a corner way too fast, spun out the steering into a spiral of dizzy scenes, the rave
Last party I got, had a good time and a bad time with a close up for the TV crew’s stalking shots
Wavelengths of digital forms, frequency notion that the unreal is Real when it ain’t, got the hots?
Know this, nothing can be known about anything, literally the Truth to know about, fact of Life
My daddy told me something like this, he didn’t put it into these words, I am though, tell a wife
Maybe your own or someone else’s but the Truth Be Told to all of them, the ‘xx’ chromosomes
Doves flyin’ around the Truth to be told to all of them, people just BBQ’s and ate them bones.
Did this dedication to the dead and gone have any effect on the minions who rule the ruse?
Probably not yet I gave it a hot shot, in the dark but I’m an expert marksman, Karl Marx blues
I’ve got some bad news for you that I’ve just received from the beautiful balloon that shames
Pink and blue, Homer and Stuie Simpson feel of the ground is a cartoon, imagine kids’ games.
Chinese checkers well-played in Space above and below Earth’s dirty, atmospheric splendor
Penal colony punishing the good, the bad & the beautifully ugly, just a tool to get more odor
Foul as discharged ejections from holy and empty forms, loving and hating all that ever was
From day One to the Last night, everything will resume in perpetuity, the suck is all a buzz.
Honey sweet as sugar, gall bitter as a rusty nail, twice bitten to be certain it’s all this show biz
Evened it up with the conmen who had a deficit of spirit, born when nothing came, what it is
Gasping for final sucks, eyes will remain agape, jaws get kicked shut to disguise holy horrors
Thriller scaring me, do what we’ve been doin’ every day until yesterday in a pickle of whores.
Unintentional and intended by me, myself & I for nothing other than just for the Hades I shat
Stupid idiots and sheer morons backing up my scree, watch and see, they will make be scat
Hot or cold, badahafacafcare bingo on the ‘G’ balloon we blew it up in a smokey bear match
Porky the pigs and the boys who smell like the cows get together at the barn dance’s catch.
Losers won the games but we let them win since we knew we’d lose but we were all winners
Who bit the dust in the end? Every single one of us, nobody got out alive with the stoppers
On the floor or in stratospheres above the dirt, dead and way gone, I’m back to pizza you off
Supposed to be sufficient but it’s necessary for certain, keep breathing in & out, then pizza off.
by
Rjjstephan, i
c. Lundi, February Vith, MMXXIIi @ 711 AMPST
{ Drafted in a windless tunnel of love, while jammin’ to @Springsteen #TunnelOfLove & HITS
on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/5iO8d8m0esY & #@TheRollingStones @ (776) The Rolling Stones - Bitch - YouTube }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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