#RiffRaff #ACDC #WakeUPTheWokeBeforeTheWake #JumpForMyLove

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 A put-on for atomic mass

A-Team of warrior classes assembled in the backwoods’ tundra, all unholy jailbait
Ex-con defensive offense in state gaol, heads spinnin’ aggression only to annihilate
Feel it, antennae eject out of the bones’ mutation from 1951’s afterbirth placenta
Uneaten, simply disposed of my origin’s fuel for my mother’s milk, dried formula.

What you could never know since the Word cannot be read or said, an idiot rubric
Cube of six-sided dots and scratches, a die that rolls with another to complete dice
Got a pair in my deep pocket, awaiting inevitable production of bully fear put-ons
Comin’ out the clouds, down the mountain through foothills to a valley, my sons.

Daughters all got their heads spinnin’ before they hit thirteen, bleed on paradise
Making something out of nothing but a spurt or jazz puddle playin’ all snake eyes
Move slow into a snake pit, look around for all exits, drink nothing in glass or can
Journey about Spring, Summer, Autumn & Winter over 3 times 20 & 10, I’m Man.

No hiding out on your mothers and sisters, they know it all, can’t hide the power
Extinction and survival all in the hands of the ladies, not the gentlemen, no peers
History amendments and policy adjustments pending variable presentations of Id
Inner persons who appeared like magic after their conceptions, turned @TheS#it.

You are living in front of the band, being the face of the put-on, it’s no joke, reality
I, messenger & like superman, can’t be shot with lead, stabbed by plastic or metal
From skull to heels, my function is to keep Soul alive, survive in scum of swamps
Could be both here, there & everywhere else, seen & invisible to eyes of chumps.

Inability to move your know-it-all elder funk, from the pure, clear light of the gods
You & I know it deep within, denied the peripheral congregation’s head spinning
Clearly the One’s fog has lifted shyt into the-know-it-all phase of divinity’s dump
Follow me to this cliff, you’re dressed to kill but all you’ve got to do is, just JUMP!

Hunks of dreams between the awake, the woke & the drones of a Rio Linda dump
Drink something now, hurry up, drink your ale, beer, spirits stuck up in your rump
New York brought you to the final ending of your Finale, don’t hide, I got you, Jill!
Yelling, screaming like the unborn about to be aborted, you’re 60, dressed to kill!

 by

r j j stephan, i

c.  Dimanche, ROCKTOBER XX, MMXXIV @ 911 AMPST

{ Copied this out of Our Minds’ eyes, I got two of ‘em, nobody else does, I’m the only one, livin’ in Funk with @TheWho at the #HideOut #ThePutOn finished the touch while jammin’ to @TheWho #EminenceFront link @ https://youtu.be/rx6Zgz0TZuA }

F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?