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SERIES OF THE FRITZ’ BONES

 ON A GRIDIRON

Being a being is a serious business; ain't easy on Earth’s survival plane of ego; the world turns

Revolving in perpetuity, orbiting at the mercy of uncontained, burning hydrogen, one-God of us

Radicals & conservatives agree on one thing only: everyone WILL die sooner or later, spurned

From nothing out of nowhere, here y’all are with a blinded faith in the invisible e-blog of excess.

Your mind's body is separate in name only; it’s all one & the same thing, thing itself self-respect

Crows in a murder cling to their wings & ability to flock to & fro, mating for a motherlode sect

Word of dog’s god spelled in reverse, important or not, coincidence that’s your new best friend

Chip off, slice up, cut around every little thing y’all can do to prove Life's worth it in the end.

Trying too hard, pushing & pulling things closer or further than a natural state of rest, decay

Lackluster this & that, just because you can do it, a transformation from innocence into a way

To get to the end of the dream without waking up and ruining the whole exercise in wasted time

Songs written, sung & metabolized, eagle flew high in outer space to our Earth, sin on a dime.

Doubt the Truth, and you can check your six regardless, Life expressed a death to turn around

Imagination of thoughts in living color form, picturing in the inner mind of the pitcher’s mound

Front and center, I get good wood on every swing of the wood or aluminum, a crack or a ping

Mound above, pitcher’s screwball unpredictable, close your eyes, pretend you’re close to ding.

Mothers let you out of the cabin; you’re in freestyle mode for the duration of the creation song

It may be over in a NY City minute or last a century, more or less, it’s certain, it may be wrong

See ahead of the horizon, don’t look back at the disappearance of a whole shebang’s monopoly

All at once, singular point reduction before annihilation is for certain; a God to be or not to be.

Racing around tracks counter-clockwise may make sense to some, I can’t decide, I like rights

The lefts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, hangin’ on the inside fence or curb to trip the lights

Fantastic as some are, others are just the red and blue lights, some green, some amber, to signal

Above or below this dirty Earth, there’s no peace or surrender, fit for a fight down below Hell.

Bombardment with ordinance of minimal destruction, running out of the woods with weapons

Young or old, the saga’s always the same, you have it, they want it, it’s all about a queen’s sons

Deliberately jump off of a cliff even if you know you can’t fly & land on your feet, just to die

At One again with what your mother forced out your father, a climax spent, Rum, Coke & Rye.

Knowing ol’ Felix the Cat had a bag of tricks to pull on the minions before it got hip, it’s moot

Cat had nine lives, squandered on the good life in the alleys and down the brick pathways’ afoot

Let you in on a little secret that used to be a big deal, when you die, you’ll die & that’s it, caput

Fear and loathing, mothers & sisters taught the ways & means that justified the Ends, big boot.

Mothers dreamed I’d say this, but they had no idea their dreams would ever come true, no kids

Nevermore the small ones attached to the good, bad & ugly mothers & fathers trippin’ on skids

Supermen, Batmen, all too human men, come & go in a frenzy or just in a whimper of hot airs

Forever holding Peace in the Void, know what you think is “so what’ you are, fool, double dares.

Let the idiots & morons out of the wombs, to force havoc to appear as a nativity peace on Earth

No desire/need to bleed, you’ve only got 5 pints, more or less, & that’s it for you, don’t be hurt

Hence, furthermore, without wisdom, knowledge, or pure luck of the draw, life will be too short

Life’s length is for the repayment of karma owed to the powers-that-be, Nothing fog; new birth.

Peace bestowed on your conscious attention, you know what it feels like, out of the battle’s war

Grim reaper stands by, no need to wonder if you’ve been forgotten by the sort of the Last One

Grime and pristine mix in the menudo of conundrums, which fill Space with subatomic charm

So, therefore, hence, what I meant to say is moot, here & I know, extinction’s high pot farm.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi, 5-6-2026 Anno Domini @ 1159 PMPST

{ Drafted while jammin’ to #IfIHadAMillionDollars by @BareNakedLadies in a loop on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/V8zdNe_l3M8?si=nzSV7o9pfa-MgBC4 & #WadeInTheWater by @TheStaplesSingers link @ https://youtu.be/qeosL7Vpn9g?si=wKjBz1-OpX1O2IuW }

F I N I S

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