#VietNamEra #RockHITS70z

MAMA MIA TOLD ME NOT

TO COME, I’M JUST TRIPPIN’

Heroes you are related to by way of psychic RNA, the “x” ingredient in the formula, throw up

It cannot be allowed to be contained with the matrix, it flows in every direction from center

Sun and moon swap magnetic charge through the ether, gravitational collapse far, far away

Ending doesn’t matter since the beginning is moot, no point in repeating ad infinitum today.

I’ll survive the extinction of 208 bones evolved out of one cell or another, be alive & be dead

No ghost in the machine before existence, essence created spontaneously, sex combusted

Just a bit of friction causing the insemination of the duplication to originate in the wet-dark

Its application anonymous with or without a feeling in love or any love at all, it will all work.

All of Time is full of High Hopes to fill in the future blanks of dreams to come true, or not too

Just because some of us think we’re so pretty doesn’t mean anything to the blind and dumb

Seriously folks, there’s a reason why the stupid idiots don’t live to be elder & free to be boss

High hopes put you in the right left frame of mind to get dressed to kill, hit town to get some.

Songs sung for the input and output, a give and take of the bards & pied pipers, up on stage

Microphones & speakers to make it perfectly clear what the message is, there ain’t a doubt

Racket boys do what they do, you know what you know, you the book by the skin of yo’ teeth

Finally released from the imaginary bonds of society, got laid a few times before on a sheet.

On a pool table, back seat of a Chevy, a Plymouth & a Ford, we in my folk’s uptown flat too

Good old days I remember like they were yesterday, I recollect it all, present, as I bid adieu

Orange and tangerine in storage and what else do you need so we can begin, nothing I bet

Or if you do want in some form, what is it so that I may donate to the CAUSE and EFFECT.

For the love of the man with the gun in his hand, our holy warriors, sons of our forefathers

Handling the film which recorded the present at some past time is cool, however mothers

It’s a wherewithal worth disseminating through the cosmic soup, received divine bangers

Got what it takes to be the best One in paradise can be, nobody does, songs need singers.

Overture heard in the background while you enjoy your comatose state of being the Many

Sounds like a Hungarian Rhapsody or some other classical gas from the past, an art form

I played it on the squeeze box, it was memorized at 11 or 12 years old, now I’m 75, WTH?

Anyways, 0 & 2 (Oh & Two) for the last time, it’s the words, cut into One Logo, ring a bell?

Hard liquor lick is required to swallow soft, hard facts, mentally draining yet necessary too

If you’re not drunk, when you hear & discover the actual Truth, your fear of death will slew

Either you alone or another living thing, humane, feline or canine with no prey, just pray

Hillbillies & jelly beans, they’re saved from Easter Sunday, sins of the father, Sun’s UV ray.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Wednesday, November XIXth MMXXV Anno Domini at 0830 AMPST

{ Drafted while jammin’ to LIVE dead @JimCroce in concert on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/3_ZS56qzJLs?si=qCdaqXz0Pf3OoTNd }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?