FOOLS REPEAT IT ALL AD INFINITUM,
SLIDE INTO HOME
As long as you’re down on your knees, you mind as well raise a glass to your missing maker
Money it made and ass it moves on, nothing is missed, replacement with the essence baker
Pushin’ and pullin’ on the new world orders, keepin’ the keepers & sellin’ cursed flakes & herbs
Higher hierarchy of the things that we name nouns and pronouns, they move I said the verbs.
Behind the trips and flights into ecstasy are the spirits who stay invisible because they’re gone
Left the thing all by itself a million years ago, evolved to today without anything but Time fun
Bread saved in hot boxes but ends of the loaves are not worth the crumbs they’ll become, iced
Eating until your trip ends just like every single living human who ever lived once, not twiced.
Beer, wine, anything spirit in the day or night that allows the thing itself to become what it is
That is a form, mortal and ready to disintegrate mind and body, no free will to guilty pleasures
Wins and losses for all, nobody is above the law, many are below the law but none up yonder
In the eyes of the minds, we’re all lost and found if we get lucky, most don’t, it’s a busted kiss.
Bucking broncos out of the corrals, they’ll get back & forth without anywhere to go, eat oats
Maybe some hay & a lot of water to break the DNA down into fuel to git the phuq out of here
Time and Space is everything, I don’t know what else to say but I’ll drop some sublime blowout
Out my head & mouth, kiss from my lips to seal it & know this is true, I am The One, no doubt!
I’ve flown into your purview for no reason, for the rational is irrational, it’s showtime for reals
Senses full and in override workin’ the system into a frenzy, it’s all about the lovers and haters
Check your privilege out at the door, it’s unwelcome inside of the sanctum of silence, it feels
As if it’s over yet it never ends the story, until we’re the Singularity, keep circumcising Gators!
Daughters are all out of town, sons givin’ their best to power up the anarchy, lazy bone bums
Grandchildren of the olden folks who died either happy or sad, left a pocket full of dough sums
Fighting for the portion you’ll never see, the scars you get are all there is, the rest Charity sees
Whoever did nothing did everything possible, probably just an alien creator of mud guppies.
Check out the blue sky today, look up to forever, it’s something both blue & black, got #milfs?
Probably you’ll die happy or sad but it won’t matter a bit, nothing carries on smooth as silk
Being evil or good is nothing special, it’s the aftermath of the will to power, getting the joke
It’s humorous that I laugh at the weeping and gnashing of teeth, punch line is, “I Am Woke!”
Certainty It is elusive because everything is the essence of uncertainty, it’s a principle of gods
Keep the creation guessing and never give up the ghost, only hints at the reason for our bods
Herds kept in tact by mere fortune and hard cowboy work, from the wild to the slaughter slide
Do everything you can to keep your head breathing above water, be happy your enemies died.
Due to mad skills, self-defensive blows were sufficient to eliminate all threats, peace battle slam
Relationships with the others seem impossible since they want more than they will ever receive
Survival of the species has nothing to do with you or I, we’re hanging chads on the voter sleeve
Doubts to replace the absolute certainty that God created the cosmos, “I think, therefore I am.”
I found what you lost and now I can tell you that you never lost it, you just hid it in safe places
Deeper than the deep end of the men who made mudholes for the kids to swim, wet, hot faces
Bums are the several ones whose parents didn’t GAF about their birth nor their death, a thing
Itself is all you can fathom, form appears 72 inches high, more or less, give/take a foot toe ring.
Trippin’ on the melodies, treble and bass, lyrics and voices that blew ‘em into the open, dead air
It’s always something, one way or the other, things will change like it or not, it’s the holy affair
From intercourse to the urn or cemetery of ash and dust, raising hands ain’t allowed anymore
Spirit hears a clean pour of Jack Daniels, all set to imbibe it all, shotgun shot glass let me pour.
History is hysterical if you get the chance to read all about it, we should have gone extinct here
It’s likely that our flesh is not very tasty to the animals who’d consume our cadavers, shed a tear
It’s why we don’t know what happens after death, if it’s better than life on Earth, it’s a suicide
If it’s worse than life on Earth, it’s a mystery ‘til we find out, it’s too late, take a pill, sin of pride.
Break a leg now or never, if & only if you believe blindly, there’s a chance you’re right, so believe
Good luck to be me, right this second over on 47th street of L.A. in the USA, loaded .357 reprieve
Mic’d up in case the press gets to question me for news at 10, honkies & baked junkies fear not
Conclusive evidence just in, life is but a dream, the dreamer has split into billions of bones a lot.
Keeper or throwback, hills to be climbed & slid back down, wipe out as if never even here at all
Deduce this with the tools and skills you’ve inherited from the Cro-Magnon bunch, feel the Fall
Sentenced to eternal damnation by nobody I know, nearly forced a brainwash to remain, gone
Clear light, sighted eyes, blinded by smoke & mirrors, rhythm’s chief, groovin’ shoot a shot gun!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Dimanche, Blovember 9th MMXXV Anno Domini @ 1430 hours
{ Bled this out of my coronary artery while jammin’ to LOST SANTANA jams on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/LjLD47mb_jA?si=yV6XDv7C1s6famtn }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
THE MUSE (MARGIE)
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