A LITTLE BIT OF THIS & THAT FOR THE MINION
All in the game baby, l come to Jesus or Krishna or Buddah or Zoroaster paradise’s revival
Regarding the ecstasy you were conceived by, a momentary lapse of the fitness of survival
Intense as the sun is the closer you get, burning to ash & crumbled dusty bone, got skilled
On no cloud 9 or underground creation under the mud, blood & beer we spilled & swilled.
I am a sceptic, I believe that nothing can be proved absolutely without assumptions of fact
Facts are impressions and they may or may not be accurate, maybe distorted to be a redact
No worries about that, words were never meant to evolve, they merely appear & disappear
In myths of angels and devils, drums and trumpets playin’ the rock & roll for babies & deer.
I’m away and long gone, because I couldn’t handle the ignorance and fake incongruence too
Pretending to know it all, knowing no Truth at all about anything from why we live to why die
Laugh, it’s funny, you’re going to the same place all of the dead moms & dads already went to
Certain rigor mortis, ceasing the perp walk in the yard from water to snow peak, what a guy.
Dead air now, nothing sounds like this, quiet as the drop of a pin in a vacuum tube, it’s moot
Point that is useless to comprehend the miracle of sensation, the idea and thought of a rootb
Imagine, you’re asleep as I am, we’re in the same head dreaming a dream of me, yet this bites
It’s lying down appearing to be unconscious or dead, yet functioning as the host of the lights.
Virtually anything is possible, probability only limited to the impossibility of contradictions
Nothing’s neither created nor destroyed, it’s that, Nothing is Everything, could be worse sons
We or at least you & the others will get it on the best y’all can but it won’t be good 3.14 #pi
Ultimately, if you cannot disappear into thin air & transverse dimensions, you live & you die.
Score in matches and games where the competition is more skilled & lucky than you can be
Turns up high on your side, luck or bad night for the opposing team, ten to one, score to me
Holy gods ain’t here, we name them & scribe their existence and purpose for unveiling a face
In the end, the Call is for relaxing to the rhythm an rhyme displayed everywhere, every place.
Scored and nearly won the game, the match and the tournement, just high dreaming but alive
Wash the dirt off of my hands, invisible mud staying outside of me is fine, I’ll babble a deep dive
Royal blues I’ve had after the breakups & losses to the super ego my parents created one night
Innocent and ignorant, downloaded programmed philosophy of Life, makes everything alright.
Second guess my first one at my peril since I know my first guess is always right 100% of Time
Space Time reality, asleep, whistling in the dark, start to finish in all fifty states of inbred being
#44 like #4 accepted and rejected in one fell swoop, dead on arrival for the duration’s dime
Fourth dimensional chess without an opponent, I made rules that mutate an idea that I sing.
Maybe pre-predication cannot be eradicated after all is said & done, forgotten and annhilated
Bing Bang’s reversal is inevitable since there’s no other way to S#it, Shower & Shave, y’all dead
Formation of the shapes of substance is controlled by random chaos & occasional holy scree
In a gospel, in a parable to make an analog imprint of a little bit of this & that on me for free.
Froze my toes off literally, severed the black decrepit metatarsals with a butter knife, hold up
For the exchange of your wife if you give me all the cash in your pocket, you get my purple Tesla
Strong or weak, without the body, your mind can fill the vacuum by no relenting to the bullies
Peaceufui when sights & sounds are eternally terminated, Nothing’s in the mood, hot to freeze.
Mercy’s call of duty is the comfort of the stupid and clueless, method is the Word, coast to coast
Woke awakened for a peek at the future if they continue in anticipation of punishment’s reward
Taking it seriously so I gave every drop of blood and sacraficed my muscles and bones on toast
Kept my promise, let all of my blood out of my veins, freedom-free, at-One is a dead-ass ghost.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mardi, 9-10-2024 (*911 EVE) @ 111 PMPST
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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