EXACTLY AT THE STRIKE OF ONE O’CLOCK
Now & then you transfix the thing that’s broke or misguided onto reprogrammable RNA
Creating something that never existed in that specific form ‘fore that moment’s lapse
Prima Face which should frighten even the most hostile alien from any other spatial pit
Between burning and imploding stuff within solar systems’ galaxies parsecs far away.
Trash is either odiferous or in the process of being disintegrated into thin air below us
As above it’s all around like the starlit sunlight and effulgence of charity and blind faith
Put yourself in her place, in his place, in our places, raise a hand if you’re a ghost fate
Parking parallel or diagonally on all levels from sub-basement to one most hip Cait.
Optimistic pessimist wandering Earth, coast to coast, border to border, until finale fun
It will come whether you pay attention or not, if you’re alive you’re gonna die, gotta sail
From port to port, sailing away with the wind at our backs, water dried up, let’s all bail
Only a few moments allowed without knowing the gatekeeper, there’s jobs to be done.
God of old man Spinoza is invisible powers that be, man in one thing, fear an unknown
All alive will die in bed or just nodding off while sitting in an easy chair with a jive arse
Struck 1 O’clock every ½ spin of the planet, strikes 1 twice in 24 hours of all minutes
Hair split, someone can’t be quiet to listen to the words, integrate the minds blown.
Nihilistic habits of the people who believe the faith of Jesus Christ & other heathens
Buddha would have loved and treasured your presence and innocence of ignorance
He died, his body disintegrated but could have been masticated and defecated food
There is a little trouble everywhere and if you can see it, it will come your way, fool.
Playin’ the blues on the Stratocaster or the Fender, the jacks keep up the loud notes
Carrying the tune from toe-tappin’ to head-bobbin’ and all around the roses & boats
Checkin’ the bums and junkies that we made from scratchin’ their mothers’ behinds
Then if and only if you recollect the memory that slipped out our God amiable minds.
High ground balls cause unforced errors in the field, the mind works a bit like a slave
Paid nothing but a place to lay your head to sleep without bein’ mugged by old Dave
Love moves it all, doin’ unto others who are believin’ the same about tomorrow’s hit
I knew I would know it when I saw it, I wanted & needed it, now I got it, it’s The S#it!
I could prick you in your pin cushion, I won’t because I’m no pricker & neither are you
High or low, above & below simultaneously as your mother & father played the blues
Bonfire and a ice cream frosty are the things I came for, this ain’t right for the fools
A falling down inside of a maelstrom and at the end of the day, I win all gun duels.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Dimanche, IX-XXIX-MMXXIV Anno Domini @ 1212 PMPST
{ Drafted while jammin’ to @CarlosSantana #DoYouRememberMe in #LupeLoopLink on youTube @ https://youtu.be/WvA9d6n7Jzg?si=SJeC5j8yDaAYqhkV }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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