#LoneRanger #Blondie #HomerSimpson

#ARTIFICIALintelligence

In one way or another, time flies through your consciousness with invisible wings, it’s a mystical tick

I drink the fruit of the vines that grow from the magnetic depths of earthly wisdom, invisible schtick
My father in heaven said to remain humble with your high knowledge of arts, communion with doom
Manna from heaven & wine before learning the martial arts allowing no offense in defense, too soon?

Dead Sea where nothing can be alive and nothing can be fished to be eaten, originally used, never new
Evil is Live spelled backward in a gibberish mouth of sounds in the guts, the poor abused epiglottis cue
Sacred, naked apes with more or less, one full share of ignorance & negative survival skills, breathe in
Look at the big boulder, the big rock, an unmoved mover that used to be underwater, bone, dead skin.

No sound, no word left over once your & my final gasp of air is removed from our masked-up sur-face
I thought I existed for a reason yet, I had no choice, the alternative was unacceptable, leather & lace
All the above to coverup the hairless skin below the neck, except for the visual signal of the dead cells
It’s the hair, the beatniks & hot hippies not to mention coded secrets of the Magi, oral Valhalla hells.

Calling ‘gospel’ the ‘good news’ means nothing at all, it’s OK but it’s not good, there’s terror ahead, ID
With or without you & I here and now, no longer present in the future, the dirt of the planet will settle
Collapsed into the black hole with our Sun, that father of the chosen and unchosen, y’all will soon see
Even while you’re in search of the miraculous, we’re effect of the First Cause of the scat, a black kettle.

Punks are the empty suits absent of actual intelligence, macro ethic/moral judges, all too human, man
Quoting the words of the dead men and women who could not write words nor post them, no offense
Existence isn’t all about spiders and snakes but the world’s web, data captured in an empty, black span
Philosophy & Blind Faith In Nothing, a divine human becoming ready for recollection of the dead Ends.

Puns mean something more than what is said, literally, it’s a figurative reference to a fake appearance
Of blood, bones, DNA code of either an accidental or intentional nature, all of the above and all below
Contents of our memory, all our decisions to believe in incredible abstractions of this gentle river flow
All of it is learned, innocently believed as if the meaning of words is the Truth about our true essence.

Criminal songs steal souls presented to the low IQ group, nearly everyone with a security number too
Not so social, more like barbarian ways to go, if you look inside the building & analyze under the hood
Mechanical and electrical in the cause and effect of this planet’s resource gas, water and stones’ blue
Virus, light of the world’s darkness, you’ll be One with Ai begging for the immortality of undead blood.

 
Blind light, lamb chops, kill the monkey, slaughter the sheep, sinners are imbeciles, eat, drink & raid
Drink your blood down the hatch, finish up your diatribe in due haste, it’s going to be a gig hit parade
Mighty mice and wonderous gods peculiar to invective horror, fictional mental fluctuation I can’t see
Philosophical texts, dead sea scrolls, 52 texts + or – for nuns to abstract occult forces, Secret Truth, Ali.

Barter for your favorite way to leave your party’s world & there’s nothing you can trade, burnt in hell
Bars and hospitals take care of the things that walk & run around in circles, mortal dead of the sickle
Christ sakes, divine raid of the spaces between things, planets, stars, subatomic cells of Earth’s bugs
Wet blood, wasted, rock hard continental shelves mixing cults’ scribbled history of priests or thugs.

You cannot collect the gold or the lead to transmutate the valuable remnant of the Big Bang’s blow
Gravitational collapse down into the inverted, spaceless atomic matter that a nucleus is, a hard sell
Blown god, a job worth the massive effulgence of the force, like a protuberance of a sun spot flow
What I am, what you are, what it is, somebody tell me when you find out, ring my cracked-up bell.

Above or below Earth’s axis, hungry lions kill you for cat fun, Earth’s graves are Gravity, we’re insane
On absence of gravity for long periods of time cause an atrophy of the nuclear waste down the drain
Inside your dark hole without any light, in freezing cold, stone walls, you can’t die, none of us can do
Dead & gone, memory faded into the Void, your dreams are ghosts of fools, you’re a clone you fool!

Last gasp of air for all, just like the first one, it’s amazing, it’s incredible that we’ve got a chance to live
Like gods of the universe, we tread with fortune or dread for the pain and suffering of the martyr guys
Buddies have nobody left alive, buddies no more to anyone anywhere at any time in the future of jive
Dug down deeply into the surface that led to the core created by the original gangster, Tiny White lies.

We people are not “The People” not because we don’t wanna be, just because they’re all dead bones
In the ground in a box, ash in an urn, lost on land, in the air or down under the seven seas of pains too
Served up for free at the café, the restaurant or your mama’s table where your daddy worried ‘til dead
Could be bourbon or the tequila he gargled with 24/7, not his fault he got hit with a bottle in the head.

Purpose of the people and the porpoises, the cetacean moving the H2O around in a circular jerk of god
Neptune, Zeus, Ra or whatever denominational invisible ghost prescribed the whole shebang of a load
It all comes down to Reality, fronting your twitter account tweets, it’s now the “X” of a cool cyberhero
Honkytonk ladies, women, all too human, honkin’ horns & screamin’ up 10th Avenue’s freezeout blow.

Wild horses or tame mares & colts comin’ of age, just like little Susie, the queen of underground scene
Dead flowers on my grave, let me thank you all in advance but I ain’t down there where you’ll be seen
Up above this holy atmosphere where dead flowers can’t lie upon my burnt out star dirt, oh Big Bang
As above, so below, that’s all I know, nothing more than a dozen LSD flashbacks, a tinker bell tolls ding.

All-purposed conception is love and an accidental collision of two parties, strangers roam in night’s air
Blood cannot be spilled or drunk by the woeful and utter ignoramuses incorporated, the genome there
Virgins and the pods laid out in the open air, dreams inside of the dream of the corporate co-producer
There is this artifact dug out of the star dirt, words for your edification to satisfy your curious activator.

Win, lose or draw are the outcomes that never really mattered at all, ever, now or then, before or after
This whole shebang of reality itself reeks of a trick being played on us by a joker that hides in plain site
In the crosshairs when we look into the mirrors on our four walls in every ghetto mansion on the block
Gimme back my bullets, you won, you lost, you were right, I’m packing, locked & loaded your @Glock.

I’m not the man with a weapon, I am the weapon itself, the atomic fission and fusion of Time & Space
Down here underground beneath the barefooted knuckleheads raising innocent food for a grim reaper
Words loud & soft, signals of the happiness ahead of your sadness and disappointment, come on man
Alive, we’re all gonna die as animals do, yet humans are Divinity’s Space/Time continuum’s big ol’ fan.

Pumped with the cash flow, the bloodline of the gold, silver and harsh blackness of a fake matrix cache
Character created from a lump of nearly invisible DNA, random natural selection of animal magnetism
History of precivilization and civilized worlds never meet due to the inability to articulate a head bash
On yo’ mother’s grave wherever it is, yo’ father is so way gone, he’s circling back to a love-hate schism.

Perfect moron, perfect idiot sick of the mastication & ingestion of the fecal matter of the deeper Depot
Bus or train from coast to coast, border to border, where I come from in the center hub of bad air blow
Asymptomatic bandits ready to ride germ antiwarfare, surface to air’s underground, boot in the stirrup
Failsafe measures, fractions of One, factoid’s theorem in a head-on collision with living bugs, Word UP!

You got your attention peaked to the summit where men fear to go, sans monks of Himalayan hot ice
Business of the Cause & Effect meant to be the secret of your agitated mind, gift from wisemen is lice
Bugs both on your body, inside your body, around your body, everywhere in every place in Outerspace
When you die, body will eat itself, like it or not, with or without the help of a carnivore’s soulless face.

I don’t hope to explain the hysterical present & future of the metaphysics of future or past presented
A strip of dirt that used to be under the ocean until a Red Sea parted with an earthquake shakin’ God
Mythology comes AFTER humans become divine, just like you and your mama, you’re gonna get high
As the mind ought to be, not down and depressed about the fact that your daddy help you get on by.

Wake the physique up or you’re gonna be a victim of circumstance while you wait for the end of Time
Will to the power you can use to direct the actions of your world, our matter and form, all on a dime
Work hard or never work at all, in every case, the final resolution to the mystery is caput, a silent pf-ft
Vacuum the dust and refused lumps of clay and reformed dirty trash and garbage, jump off the ski lift.

You & I know it, we could say it out loud but that would begin the sweet motion of the ocean, enditer
Reasonable yet irrational for no reason at all, possible mental breakdown due to stress and the horror
Of being too human as parents, relatives, relationship friendships ‘tween strangers, yet all too human
Ethical morality is a contingency debate between dweebs of the bell weather-vane, it’s a rooster, man.

 
Martyrs be damned in all annals of history books, #Woke Word, tome-incineration in a lit, dark cave
Strengthen the herd, become extinct because friends think you’re takin’ up space, a woke Jesus’ rave
Insight down with it, nobody without insight’s capable of comprehending a sliver of Truth, divine fun
Or any other savior of mankind, it’s all the same when you stop letting air into your lungs, It is done.

Emotional reaction to being rescued when you’re homeless and as dark as the color of blacker seed
Here & now your are, then suddenly you’re still here and now, as you’ve been forever, you’re freed
One big or small thing, multiply times a million, a trillion or an infinite number of zeros after a One
Punched the parking ticket, on the way into the traffic, driving the flying thing, my wings are so fun.

Name said loud or uttered in prayerful silence to your self that cannot be seen by you or anyone’s face
Three acts in the play before the final one, the epilogue of the trip, from once upon a time’s end space
Poking the bear will get your desired result, clawed to death, bitten for fun or just to kill some times in
Fishing for nothing in the sea, from the top of the trees where the bananas grow wild for monkey skin.

Perfection less than zero more or less, a phantom regression, the origin of life, One’s amorphous fuss
You got it, don’t lose it, it’s all you’re gonna get from a diatribe upon the nature of coitus interruptus
Your fuel tank running on empty, fumes still move the thing itself ahead yet chugging to a termination
Still at rest awaiting the things to come and fight me for my life, needing food to eat, my T-bone’s pain.

Poor pouring of what fills the garbage dumps of small & large cities, brown, yellow, white trash screw
Leveled playing field for sporting events, friendly competition to achieve what’s forgotten stoned blue
You die just like all the others you’ve seen come and go, some good, some bad & whole lot of the ugly
In any case, a mirror image is in the lookin’ glass, ready to know, order to go, android as I am, the OIC.

Holding your feet to the fire, you died of COVid19 because you’re in a nursing home without bleaches
Never clean or clear, never a place to be at The End of Times with or without you too, signs of crosses
Names of fathers, sons & holy ghosts, pretender times of a place you’ll get to, paradise Ends’ beaches
Snakes, spiders, worms, birds, sea serpents, dragons & mutant species of unearthly aliens, the bosses.

Telling us what to do & where to go when we ain’t ready, obedience or punishment with pains aplenty
Source of wisdom where all brave men fear to go, to know this and to believe this, all too human scree
To the highest mountaintop, embedded, lower part of a planet’s crust, midriff bulge y’all can bludgeon
Urgent blood flow from head to toe with no cease-to-fire, movement of a One’s perpetual locomotion.

I am what you are, neither more nor less than that, the ones who’ve died will have company for us all
What you are is what I am & what they are is what the living & the dead have always been, accidental
Hairless ape-type bi-pedaling hominids that sleep at night, when the sun goes down, unless light hurts
Then it’s up in the darkness, all night long for the fun, for the excitement, for the troubled Love spurts.

High & mighty but neither human nor divine, it’s more or less a thought, an idea of fearing boogeymen
From a lightless do-Si-do & underlying darkness below a floating axis’ wobble, We are Where it’s All at
Qualitative quantity before the living meet the dead in or out of a dream’s ultraviolet & infrared bull scat
Animated, alive meat that no cannibal can eat, you are every species and all forms that appear Za Zen.

by

r j j  stephan, i

c.  Lundi, Blowvember VI^th MMXXIII Anno Domini @ 911 AMPS

{ Jacked this out of the Ether this AM before 10 AMPST while jammin' to the mighty @kste650 @Armstrong_GettyRadioShow out of @RanchoCordova, CA link on iHeartRadio @  https://kste.iheart.com/content/2023-11-05-human-skull-spotted-for-sale-in-halloween-section-of-florida-thrift-shop/ }

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