GREATEST LIVES ON EARTH, ATE LIKE GODZILLA’S GRANDDAUGHTER’S GODSONS
Thinking the same thought I’ve thought forever and a day, for once it’s produced there’s no return
From the Past history of events that occur to you, me & everyone else, we’ll draw from that pallet
Formulating color & shapes too, mouth duct-taped although tongue is tied up in a white mamba
One paranoid snake came out of nowhere and Eve the First Lady, learned to push the golden urn.
Powder’s bone-dry and nobody can take me fair & square, saw the dawn and the dusk at once
Dead zone, before the twilight and after the social ladder broke apart into dead orphans of Man
All of it from the atoms to the mountains down here on Earth, outside’s another inner dunce
Followed the repeats & reruns, checkin’ everything out to leave nothing left out, make sense?
Of course, machines breakdown, things die due to mechanical failure to communicate the words
Truth is no matter which words you formulate, Truth will never, ever be, essssssssssssssssssssay
To not be you’d have to have already been before now, entertaining notions of false dirty birds
I got into the groove and my sharpness got stuck between scratches of vinyl, no need to pray.
Living small on the allotted property in Gold country kept it all under the radar fixation with girls
Friends of my father’s daughters & my sister’s gaggle of a gang, humble pie for all y’all who dine
On the dead organic meat & bone marrow in a stew to keep the family loaded with smoke pine
All good flower to seed, whiff drifts out of the world to the next one, too far to clutch the pearls.
Horror is horrible but any alternative to death and rotting life may be acceptable for a while
It may take a while to become accustomed to the New World’s Order, like it or not in a pile
Stacked since day one of the garbage creators who cannot recycle the matter, pollution balls
Experts won’t agree, therefore, Nothing is absolutely true, everything’s blurred & likely false.
Who will be the patsy for CIA operations that will be sabotaged, enjoy the ride, be unhinged
That depends on the time of day & the place in Space that the event occurs, racin’ hot-rods
There is a mushroom in my soup, it’s a huge portobello sliced into 50 pieces, fungi porridge
After or before the supping, a prayer of thanks for bringing it & surviving the poison bloods.
Prognosis, exegesis ends the alpha ape’s jurisdiction over the rest of the divinity story’s blitz
Splitting an imaginary Nirvana in two from its naturally occurring oneness state, humans’ fists
Conception’s tool or trap depending on one night’s day-mare, original concept, an omen moon
Liberty or Death, said the older man who saw a mindful eye-full of the dream as a mob goon.
Approval of everything and disapprove nothing at all, dream within a dream of old Ed Poe
I get creeped out by words directing my mind in a horrifying response mode to a fear blow
Pain, suffering a brain’s knee-jerk reaction to red hot bodies and frozen cold toes with tags
Sinning nine innings, four quarters, three periods or two halves, Tomorrow-land Spam flags.
I’m not in charge of anything other than breathing air in and out of my lungs, I can’t stop it
Not that I’ve tried, I’m lying, yes I have tried it, to no avail, it’s impossible for me to deposit
My soul on the altar of sacrificing lambs and calves on a BBQ to the gods of land, air & fire
Theoretical priest of Words, ignorant fool at the pinnacle of ministering Truth, Big Sur liar!
Large waves thrust up against a continental shelf of imaginary western crust, a cliff above
Ole Mexico, California, Oregon, Washington, British Columbia, on down to Tiera del Fuego
On an earth-trek with normal, weak human feet and legs, in my mind I do it all in imagery
Imagination from uncaused atomic matter of a universal First Being, top secrets unto me.
Being meaning more than Nothingness is an illusion required to avoid going insane
This is not for imbeciles or any humans who believe they can Live without body pain
Slashin’ upstream oar/canoe forms, hard-time, killer otters ate Betty & Barney Rubble
Three steps for a simple man hookin’ up a complicated human in a royal Blue Bubble.
Yelling for help in a vacant and empty cave with nothing but your own unforced echo
High time you found your stride such a long while before the final stretch, back row
Bleeding out the good, bad & ugly like there’s no tomorrow, tank’s runnin’ on empty
I see the finish line, I see no one to the rear or side of my stride, Word Up, .44c I see!
by
rjjstephan, I
c. Jeudi, August 3rd 2023 AD @ 1111 AMPST
{ Dystopian music played as I drafted this gem, listenin’ to #StartingOver @ChrisStapleton on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/A3svABDnmio }
From the Past history of events that occur to you, me & everyone else, we’ll draw from that pallet
Formulating color & shapes too, mouth duct-taped although tongue is tied up in a white mamba
One paranoid snake came out of nowhere and Eve the First Lady, learned to push the golden urn.
Powder’s bone-dry and nobody can take me fair & square, saw the dawn and the dusk at once
Dead zone, before the twilight and after the social ladder broke apart into dead orphans of Man
All of it from the atoms to the mountains down here on Earth, outside’s another inner dunce
Followed the repeats & reruns, checkin’ everything out to leave nothing left out, make sense?
Of course, machines breakdown, things die due to mechanical failure to communicate the words
Truth is no matter which words you formulate, Truth will never, ever be, essssssssssssssssssssay
To not be you’d have to have already been before now, entertaining notions of false dirty birds
I got into the groove and my sharpness got stuck between scratches of vinyl, no need to pray.
Living small on the allotted property in Gold country kept it all under the radar fixation with girls
Friends of my father’s daughters & my sister’s gaggle of a gang, humble pie for all y’all who dine
On the dead organic meat & bone marrow in a stew to keep the family loaded with smoke pine
All good flower to seed, whiff drifts out of the world to the next one, too far to clutch the pearls.
Horror is horrible but any alternative to death and rotting life may be acceptable for a while
It may take a while to become accustomed to the New World’s Order, like it or not in a pile
Stacked since day one of the garbage creators who cannot recycle the matter, pollution balls
Experts won’t agree, therefore, Nothing is absolutely true, everything’s blurred & likely false.
Who will be the patsy for CIA operations that will be sabotaged, enjoy the ride, be unhinged
That depends on the time of day & the place in Space that the event occurs, racin’ hot-rods
There is a mushroom in my soup, it’s a huge portobello sliced into 50 pieces, fungi porridge
After or before the supping, a prayer of thanks for bringing it & surviving the poison bloods.
Prognosis, exegesis ends the alpha ape’s jurisdiction over the rest of the divinity story’s blitz
Splitting an imaginary Nirvana in two from its naturally occurring oneness state, humans’ fists
Conception’s tool or trap depending on one night’s day-mare, original concept, an omen moon
Liberty or Death, said the older man who saw a mindful eye-full of the dream as a mob goon.
Approval of everything and disapprove nothing at all, dream within a dream of old Ed Poe
I get creeped out by words directing my mind in a horrifying response mode to a fear blow
Pain, suffering a brain’s knee-jerk reaction to red hot bodies and frozen cold toes with tags
Sinning nine innings, four quarters, three periods or two halves, Tomorrow-land Spam flags.
I’m not in charge of anything other than breathing air in and out of my lungs, I can’t stop it
Not that I’ve tried, I’m lying, yes I have tried it, to no avail, it’s impossible for me to deposit
My soul on the altar of sacrificing lambs and calves on a BBQ to the gods of land, air & fire
Theoretical priest of Words, ignorant fool at the pinnacle of ministering Truth, Big Sur liar!
Large waves thrust up against a continental shelf of imaginary western crust, a cliff above
Ole Mexico, California, Oregon, Washington, British Columbia, on down to Tiera del Fuego
On an earth-trek with normal, weak human feet and legs, in my mind I do it all in imagery
Imagination from uncaused atomic matter of a universal First Being, top secrets unto me.
Being meaning more than Nothingness is an illusion required to avoid going insane
This is not for imbeciles or any humans who believe they can Live without body pain
Slashin’ upstream oar/canoe forms, hard-time, killer otters ate Betty & Barney Rubble
Three steps for a simple man hookin’ up a complicated human in a royal Blue Bubble.
Yelling for help in a vacant and empty cave with nothing but your own unforced echo
High time you found your stride such a long while before the final stretch, back row
Bleeding out the good, bad & ugly like there’s no tomorrow, tank’s runnin’ on empty
I see the finish line, I see no one to the rear or side of my stride, Word Up, .44c I see!
by
rjjstephan, I
c. Jeudi, August 3rd 2023 AD @ 1111 AMPST
{ Dystopian music played as I drafted this gem, listenin’ to #StartingOver @ChrisStapleton on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/A3svABDnmio }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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