You Are Naked, Skin's Tight, Out of Sight (Hold the dressing!) SIX GOT YOUR SIX, TWO THREE A.D.

 

 

YES, INDEED, I'M READY TO GO

Filling up my own pot of gumbo with strength to carry on in the face of pending gloom & doom

I’ve done nothing wrong other than continue to breathe in & out while others hold their breath
Goofin’ off playin’ games, playin’ sports, playin’ the players to pass the Time in Space, hand jive
Signs giving signals to stop or go, this way or that, one more time maybe two, peace honey hive.

In the forces that give no alternative to the will to power, obedience is sacrosanct to survival
Of the vermin and human, above & animated in locomotion or trivial pursuits of the recycle
Hurting when there’s pain to be felt, courting ecstasy in momentary lapses of the former high
Complete, utter mess of immobile atoms just waiting for heaven to release the royal blue sky.

Minks didn’t need their fur, right man? Sheeple didn’t need the cotton/wool mutant boll weevil
Soylent green was the conglomerate menudo of people in a terrible fix, all involved in the Mix
Cake is baked, pie is nearly done and the party ain’t ever gonna start, there’s only the One, Me
I shot a sheriff once but it was in self-defense just like in the reggae jam of the capitol offense.

I swore on a stack of bibles that I didn’t shoot the deputy but it was certainly self-defense, man
Dude put his .38 into my cheek & it freaked me out, so I nailed him up against the wall, a slam
His skull cracked only due to momentum, it was unintentional, his revolver shot him, not at me
It was him shooting & the round ricochet off of another brick on the wall, I was goin’ down, see?

Reality bytes in my data base, below and above the atomic fission, human reproduction
History and the analysis of the morons in flight from nest to nest, in search of It, Nothin’
Always deaf, dumb & blind as Father, the sailor left me all tools of gypsies, evil-live luck
If I were you, I’d be afraid, very afraid, you have no defense against the planetary crook.

Intent of the will, desire & focus on the finality of the direction only you control, grow
Up not down, no growing roots into the dirty rocks & rotten, undead T-bone marrow
Bottom line is when you get on the choo-choo train you’re gonna whoop it up to hell
Binge was the party of the decade, every ten spins around the sun, where Adam fell.

Perfectly useless to the cause and effect of the whole shebang, you said, @Daddy too
I didn’t invent the water I just turned it into wine, squeezed the grape vines into blue
Red, violet, royal purple satin and boa feathers from the birds that drop dimes on you
Just because you thought you were so pretty and lovely as the sweet honeybee stew.

Four score & seven means nothing but on the way to my own Fourscorth (80) come on
Bring it on at will, I remain One with the plan whatever it may be, start up the flyin’ nun
No stop at a time, one foot in front of the other in perpetuity ‘til the step off ol’ Stephan
As I am now is how I have always been, zygote infiltrated with a germ-sperm-worm bun.

Now or later, you & they will come to a consensus, an inevitable conclusion via true Word
Up or down the elevator of the building, ad infinitum swing of the faces of the Red Horde
Pricking the pins into the cushion until there’s no more room for any more pricks, all spent
Mirror to see your & my image, a look alike from the Past, the Future, all gods are present.

An entire vile of pills down the hatch, you think you’ll just go to sleep forever, stomach pump
Big chump can only see what’s passed in the last ten seconds, forget about the rest to recall
Being at rest or unrest can be the only concern of the civilized culture archeological deduction
That the things themselves are all gone, writing on the rock walls & tree pulp parchment fun.

Ending the origin the moment it split into more than One, two, four, six, eight & we appreciate
That without a Big Bang we’re nowhere, we’re nobody created by Nothing on a blind fig date
Myopic and monotone, it’s a bug’s existence lookin’ for a place to avoid being smashed food
Boiled, fried, BBQ’d or sundried, Nothing I’ve shat out, I allowed communion with the Good.

Give me a break or not, I don’t care to be at the mercy of expectation of the unexpected, I am
The unexpected is what I am, don’t need to expect it, I am alive in it, present in presence’s scam
Focus on the distortion, close your eyes and the mystery is solved, it’s what you see when dead
Black nonsense of the vacuum Singularity, no language there, no words, no Flintstones, Fred!

by
r j j stephan, i

c. 6-6-2023 AD @ 911 AMPST
{ Blasted out with background of @JrWalker #Shotgun link @ https://youtu.be/x8_xSZMTuKo }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?

<3 <3 <3