I got something to say before I leave your pad, don’t take it personally tiny sin You must take one moment to reflect upon the cherry wine you been chuggin’ There’s only one way to rock & I believe you’ve discovered deep down uptown Late at night and early in the morning, all of my peace of mind got mega-blown.
Skies are blue or grey, only to the landlubber but to the sailor at sea, starless Better to raise the bet than to call the high hand showing, strategic lips’ word Ready to bring inertia to your fingertips, moving heaven to hell but in reverse Not much more than that, you’re lonely in disguise or naked as a system jaybird.
So sorry to be the bearer of evil news directly from the associated press circa now Sunshine is the star burning out from internal combustion & prelude to collapse Indo On the one cool hand workin’ the man’s farms for the blood, sweat & tears of Fido My dog is god spelled backwards, thought the blasphemous act was quite a super-show.
by
r j j stephan, I
c. Samedhi, February 17th MMXXIV A.D. @ 911 AMPST
{ A GIFT
OF RIF-RAF drafted while jammin’ to @GovtMule #DarkSideOfTheMULE link @ https://youtu.be/38z-xuYhGnAWE saw
LIVE LAST NIGHT AT THE CASINO! }
The border is secure, believe me, there’s no Trojan horses at our coasts, copy a holy montage Murder your freedom by following the ten commandments & the one Golden Rule of old age Yes, if you ain’t a teenager anymore, this is the medicine for you to swallow without a chaser Lucky if you have ‘income’ & unlucky without a job or friendly face anywhere in your insight.
Wake up every morning in a field under a cardboard box for privacy, next to the RR track path A switching yard a half a block from the first landing on home turf in utero, no way to know it Accidental intent learned from the wisdom of the ancients, to be or not to be unconscious too As you roam from pace to pace, through the gnarled valley of happiness and sadness’ screw.
It never was your fault yet you’ve been persuaded to accept responsibility for souless singing Regardless of your slant of the heart bleeding on the Valentine’s saints to forgive mortal sins Despair is out of the rhetorical question, end of life’s last gasp realized this years ago, winning You don’t know like I know & since nobody knows, we must be nobody, it’s prodigal, my sons!
By the by, near coastal wasteland that no man has eye witnessed, it’s invisible to a third eye Four eyes or even spyglasses have no effect on seeing atoms of invisible radiation, so get high Check the planted seeds, the nurturing & DNA manipulation of the genome, bleed the salary Higher than you can handle, you don’t want to go there alone, you won’t like a night gallery.
Meaning nothing more nor less than you’re damned if you do, damned if you up & down hell Noodle this out, at One Origin, before your conception you didn’t exist, now you’re immortal Come on man, use logic, subjective, objective predication to see the light, ultraviolet, infrared I’ve nothing but a skull to show for this LOVE evolution from a zygote, I think ashes are dead!
No evidence of survival after the 208 bones can’t support your ambitious dreams of a ghost Which is what moves you & everything else that’s alive on Earth, probably cosmic-wide too No way to know it, epistemological uncertainty, a principle of the Unmoved Mover re-groove Constant principle is a state ‘tween #PopTart bubbles in a Void, St. Valentine, love, MY Love! by r j j stephan, i
Certainty of the fools who expect justice where none exists, here, now or evermore
Once existence becomes the issue with the living and the dead, then the gods score As if there are UFO’s flyin’ around the solar system, galaxy or universe at warp speed This ain’t no star trek or star wars chit-chat about pretenders’ worlds of divine greed.
Unknown “x” factoids are given as the premise for an honored blind faith conclusion Skipped the facts about the dead skin and bones of our kin, friends & foes, all are in For the Rest of the Peace, nothing gets to avoid returning to the dust of the star’s burn Nothing but the ashes on Wednesday in Lent to remind you of your immortal return.
4 and 20 blackbirds baked in a pie, mixed with the cherry red fruit of the holy scat vine It grows deep inside of the hypothalamus’ pine shape, which gunpowder factory is a sign You need that for the fire in the hole, snap your necks of the elders & babies between us Precious babies regenerate the species’ fool chain of invisible spirits, souls & idle minds.
Full of the bottom lines of the ends of the common fields we’ve occupied by accident On purpose, we’ve caused a chain reaction of Fate’s electron activity, I’m heaven sent Below or above the polar opposites of this and that, there’s nothing more nor less than Almighty Void Black Hole Singularity, we sacrifice our herd up to you all, the Word.
Fools brought back the games to pass the time until the rigor mortis claims dead meat Disrespect due to the liars & cheaters who knew the Known but kept Truth Top Secret Strategic isolation of the prize of the holy seats of the undercover lovers of stupid scat Manufactured by dead philosophers, poets & politicians who killed what they shat.
Civilized clowns and numbskulls who open cans of worms & then complain to the fish Offering up the squirm on a hook, in the mouth, down the gullet & it’s on for The Ride Jumping up above the surface in the belly of the beast, a moment flying, diving down To fathom depths allowed before the final jerk of trouble, lost all fight, get outta town.
Surface to air, there’s water and rocky dirt, the entire remains of a Big Bang of Cool Outerspace farther and farther from the center, no doubt about it, mama raised no fool It’s a stretch of liberty to feel that you own freedom to behave without any regulation You are consigned to morals, ethics & modifications of being all too human, a mortal sin.
Apparently, the first human born to the first pair of humans was a mortal sin, that’s a fact Look around you, free country, fifty states, millions of citizens & an undocumented stack Preface by total soundless silence, per-conception inside darkness, mother’s womb tomb Brought forth what thrives a second or century for no reason,, just a lunatic on a broom.
Meaning without wings you can’t fly without being in the atmosphere, wingless angel I think I’m a thing, I’m not nothing as might be expected, the whole shebang’s one Void Forget about it all, every past event with every individual involved got disconnected Suffering the whole boatload of terror before my eyes, I put God’s holy pain back to bed.
Media communication of data dissemination keeps the world turning, we see what it is Without pain and suffering we can survive until the bell tolls, release sometimes is caput Special needs adults living life by whatever goes #TikTok or even if it don’t, up the clock Where the mouse went after beginning Hickory Dick or Ree Dock, you cause the flock.
Sheep as you are or the angels who interdimensionally Zen smack us on our two knees One outer skin is so thin that it’s nearly invisible yet it’s beyond good and evil screes I used to but I don’t any more, speak out loud as if someone cared, the Truth don’t hurt Not me but it may harm the ones who haven’t read the reason & rhyme of my heart.
It dripped and flowed freely at my will, my whim of desire and need, I cherish my love She flows upstream to the hatchery and stabs me in the soul & heart, below or above On top is fine, laughing out loud (LOL) but I have done It, what will have been done It’s all a come-on, quite a thermonuclear show, as if a sunburn means nothing but fun.
It’s a reminder that you’re mortal, a fool if you live thinking you will live when you die For the sake of your species if not for your own progeny, if any, you best STFU yo’ mouth Daughters of the sons of the fathers who all died without their egos & ids deeper south Here ye, here ye, read all about it, headline is all you need to read, spell it & you’re Fly!
Hymns sung by blind followers beaten by their parents into submission, power to be bums Listen to the words of the music, the melody and sounds of wind flutes & tom-tom drums When it’s time, you’ll know, be wary of false alarms of Time &Wall Street Journal tweets Here’s what your life on Earth will last longer than, an air bubble, enjoy the backstreets.
Getaway from the scene of the crime, y’all never get a reward for the crime & punishment Hide in a cave with the blind monks and insects that thrive without light, all heaven sent To lay eggs, hatch them & reincarnate dead bugs we’ve annihilated just like the Goliaths More than ever before, happiness’ painlessness is sacrosanct, happy lives or gimme deaths.
Powder is dry for the powers that be, that my friends is you and it’s me, really can’t mix it up Dependent on the creators to get me back my bullets, nobody will get hurt, it’s self defense Thing of beauty, the beautiful that contrasts with the ugly, malform-face of muted makeup Far out man, it’s gnarly as usual, a gift to gab not wasted, Now, this Life all makes nonsense.
by r j j stephan, i
c. Mardi, 2-13-2024 Anno Domini @ 711 AMPST { Cached this out of the matrix while listening to @650KFBK @Armstrong_GettyRadio Link @ https://kste.iheart.com/ } F I N I S W.W.A.R.D.
Even on super Sunday in the springtime, you can smell the pigskin bleedin' in ice turf beneath I know what you know, it’s a finite game with an end in sight, no allowance for a sudden death Touchdown after touchdown, safety after safety, kickoff after extra points ad infinitum, it’s a go With no time left on the game clock, it’s less than a second left & the score is tied zero to zero.
Six for the touchdown, three for the field goal, two for the safety & one for the point after TD Hips get hit from the front, back & sides, above a pile & deep below the late hits ref’s whistle us Toots out of the air squeezed through a tiny whirlwind emptiness, the phase of a blown penalty High or low hits count on the quarterback and the penalty to a tackler is five, ten or fifty minus.
Regular bowl games are one hundred yards of theoretical, prolate spheroids’ critical race theory Kick the ball, throw the ball, hand-off the ball, run with and fumble the ball, it’s two for a safety Mothers died bearing the boys who played games, some lived & got a new house on the blocks Either way, we get one super Sunday every year, today’s the day, it’s on from zero to sixty rocks.
You had what it took to get to the money game, high school, through college & infinite practice Professional because paid with gold and a plethora of rewards for beating the opponent’s dice It’s a roller-coaster from September to January & then it’s on, the big Super game of man-kinder Points more than the other gets a double ‘U’ (W) less points gives you the honor, you’re a Loser.
Find out the secret and then forget about the whole thing, as if you’ve begun again from scratch Nobody knows you or cares about you, you’re an orphan without siblings, offspring or any mate You’ll go home to the heavens in a metal-wooden box, just a porcelain urn, Form of God’s farce Bottom’s up online, you’re gone & it’s like it was before conception, Dark & deep up one’s arse. by r j j stephan, i c. Dimanche, February 11th, 2024 Anno Domini @ 333 PMPST #SuperBowl2024 { Blown out of my keister this am on #SuperbowlSunday jammin’ to surprises at https://youtu.be/D2E7ahH8zts?si=SJyq8P9NgUwTACci }
