#MaMaRockMe

SUCKS TOO BAD TO BE YOU

Now is the time when you can count your P’s & Q’s to mend your fences and repeat ad infinitum
For the fear and the loathing to resume, a conception must occur before the total annihilation sim
On my mother’s grave if I could get to it in the boneyard of the bad smell city, next to dad’s beard
It grew on the head, the skull & wherever the plow didn’t bury in a furrow, still the dead is weird.

Apes without a hair, males and females only have the tufts in the crevices between joints of bones
All too human yet every other species is all too them as well, a program at random collision courses
From the roll over to the scoot to the crawl, ancient to modern modes of locomotion onto run & walk
Adaption for the sake of survival is paramount to other pressing desires on the emotional pitcher balk.

Full & halfbacks just a fraction of the quarterbacks & cornerbacks & linebacker/safety defensive stances
All for One and One for All, dream within a dream can’t be seen by the blind leading the blind to fences
Every side of the prairie property cordoned off with a white fence of a monster corral form in the sand
Mirror image of the year 2000 B.C., four thousand years after the Big Bang, it dropped a dime on Adam.

Preaching what you recollect won’t help nobody else, so just keep your yap shut, like daddy used to say
Loose will indeed sink ships afloat on the seven seas, defense and offense in the elite sense in every bay
Keepin’ tabs on those who would absolutely phuq-up every living and evolved thing conceived in tin can
Popped the tops or unscrewed the lids for the epitome of culinary pleasure, sliced and diced then I ran.

Consumers the patron class of those who can’t formulate menus for their own artificial intelligence ego
Either you fly or you die when the lava comes rollin’ down form the mountaintop to the deep blue sea
Can’t swim with the eagles and owls, can’t fly with the whales and sharks, it’s a super fine lover bleed
Out of a heart that pumped it down into the veins & arteries into capillaries’ drainage, I’m God’s seed.

Boys or girls all get the identical life spark, what they do in the form they inhabit in the flow of ennui
It’s all free will, free choice, a supernatural enculturation of the body’s light fantastic, a trip to be we
Together in One single body, every tinker toy body and soul, exquisite real thing to forget about it all
One thing you can count on, you are gonna breathe the air in & out or else you’ll be a dead man call.

Goofy thinks it sucks to be God, therefore we trust that God sucks like gravity which we love, amazed
Pinching your cheeks for the excretion allows the regular mode of being to flourish and eat the dead
Birds, fish, cows, pigs, cats & dogs gettin’ right back into my good graces, lettin’ them all live to be
Old and decrepit from perpetual animation, damage to joints & limbs, organs you only get it once.

Sighing like I always do when I got to pretend to care about the misfortunes of humanity & the fauna
Hear it go in one ear and out of the other, sound goes 1800 feet per second in & out before dementia
Hear the riffs and backbeats on the rhythm and rhyme of the given word salads & occult pornography
Soggy and foggy, a feeling & forlorn look of being in trouble with the law of outlaws out & about me.

Uncertainty is the principle of highly unlikelihood, possible impossibility of ever being certain of anything
Ipso facto, that anything at all is predetermined because Time is an illusion from a past, a pre-future ring
Wanting & desiring anything at all, with every fiber of your being’s Will to Firepower, will show the Ends
All will be gone in the final chapter of each play on words, on a stage of stars & fools, I’ve got the Bends.

Holy & sacred, each & every thought and gasp of air, taking it all for granted won’t be wise, it’s a put-on
Slime in the cauldron without a visible flame, subatomic nuclear herd from the charm and a love button
Say never you mean not soon, say pretty soon & you mean never, not ever in a million-reincarnation spa
Pretty soon, all the good will turn out to be bad, vice versa can’t work, yet what will be will be, que sera.

Peculiar that you find the serious to be funny and the spurious bunny to be a sadness, a rabbit stew askew
Why and where, who and how might the gods come to inspire the inner conscience, to be or not to flop
Some girls are the somebody I’ve seen go right in and out of my third eyesight, fast forward rhythm blue
Easy money when easy does it, no taxes on undatable wages with a gold robbery strong box, a corn-pop.

 

 Therefore, I am & you are here & now before we die & disappear, body & soul, we've got the holy cow

Way gone, out of humanity's control, deep into the black hole's Singularity, zero mass of One mortal sin

Divine smoke rising up from the burning, hot fire as a sign of the return to the star that burns revolution

by

r j j  stephan, i

c. Dimanche, BLOVEMBER XIXth MMXXIII Anno Domini @ 1111 AMPST
{ Drafted to @GovernmentMule jammin’ HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/uiX7yGnGHSg } 

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WorksOfFire #FireWorks

‘71, THE YEAR I VACATED CHICAGO, ONE DECADE LEFT IN BAD SMELLS

4^th of the month July when the freedom began, cut off the crown from the tax on your head

Killed a bunch of the cousins who came after our gold & our children, subjects of the royal dead
Bent over in a night’s mares, in the middle of the daylight, got them knocked out of park’s field
Opened up my billfold and your purse strings came undone; I got thee & you got all gold seed.

Parking in the zone where nobody gets back out into the heavy traffic alive, I mean nobody at all
God to angelic demons created by the only one who could, the master of the minions we all fell
Down below where they remain to this day, the revolution is now & then when a move is schtick
Nobody can ever put this king in a Mate, impossible due to a failsafe method of stalemate kick.

I was a young boy & I turned into a middle-aged man now as old as the dead ones already gone
No comin’ back from all the smokin’ and drinkin’ I did like a devil may care, I ne’er slowed down
Still movin’ like there’s no tomorrow, there’s a bread line down the street, got my hobo baggage
Carried, kicked, exchanged the found for what’s lost in Space, comin’ back in, sweet baby’s age.

Hectic as the #Woke and the laid back as the #AlreadyGone, it’s the shebang in disarray parlay
Events of a Singular pinhole in the matrix of empty smoke, it’s almost gone now, what’d I say?
You received what you sent, returned the fire to the ice, it’s all in a great ball of fire, sunny Sun
Baking until it’s burned up and out of sight, swallowed in the Void, I’m the ghost of Father’s Son!

I’ve got something other than Time on my side, it’s angels alive now who used to be o’er here
But now their skin and bones are long gone, buried or burned in the hot fire of the blood’s beer
Frequency of the short & long funky wavelengths that go ultraviolet blue to scarlet, cocaine blue
As above, so below who said that before doesn’t rule the cosmos, say it loud, Above, so below!

Little bits of fun along the narrow way where you move on from origin to the terminal ends
Frozen stiff without heart beating blood-flow, makin’ The Moving out of a Hollywood tent
To see and understand whether you’re blind, far or near sighted that you’re in a gene pool
Of what used to be a solitary gamete & ovum, possibly twins or a trio’s trip three, survival.

Playin’ the game without knowing the rules of engagement is a fool’s errand I’m not into
Without all rules the game is unfair & a useless waste of time losing for certain, me too
Punks of gargantuan size, way over six feet taller than a midget-sized all too human kid
Magnify the invisible to expose Nothing clearly as a transparent piece of plastic bag-lid.

It’s all about what is inside that counts, when you die it doesn’t matter, y’all highwayman
Mission without a purpose, killed the ones who murdered my family, friend & countrymen
Pretending to be nourished by the reduction of pure air to breathe into the baby humans
Being in one incubator is good for a century, give or take, it’s you & it’s me, #FinsUp fans.

Fried, baked, cooked or raw, the fruit and vegetation of the plantation, we ate & smoked it
Until the Earth ceases to wobble and twirl in a counter-clockwise spin to the ecliptic orbit
Seven continents and millennia just Space & Time as usual, every occasion to tweet a link
Extinction ends a line, it drops a dime on your gait, squirt entrails of blood, bloody hot pink.

by

r j j  stephan, i

c.  July 4, 2023 Anno Domini @ 222 PMPST

{ Ripped this #CherryBomb off of my inner lining core of sacred, clear-light spirit to share with the naked bones of your skull and body, while jammin’ to 31 year old concert @JohnCougerMellencamp link @ https://youtu.be/68On9KZ9Ihc }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?