"IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE THE NOD"
Used to nod off before even blinkin’ twice just because I was mellow, you were mellow yellow
If the whole world could be in black, white or in technicolor, the natural selection’d be #Hello
Just because there’s no reason for the Life being in the universe, there’s no reason for doom
A miraculous event creating something that didn’t exist moments before creation’s big boom.
Under pressure, undercover, under the bottom and over the top without a leg to stand upon
Just some words and songs about the past events and people who lived through Space-Time
Jingled liberty bells rung until cracked under the vibrations from the Mariana Trench’s fun
Putting perspective into a proper format, a bullet mystery of this skin-tight, tin-horn rhyme.
Perpetual light on the dark side of Uranus, where that burning star won’t shine, I dig that bro
Even if you’re a paperback writer or sportscaster/disc jockey/talk show host or butler for a ho
Coming to know the six days of work by the seventh day when there’s nothing to fix of create
Day of rested bones and mind overload download is required, insanity avoidance is my fate.
Rode the ticket I got at the depot, sat next to a fine looking grandma with her comfort dog
Barked and growled, snorted breath and more growling for five and half hours in flight log
Boredom or apprehension are the only two choices available, nothing more or less, our fates
To be here and now or not in Eden’s garden, Eve’s addiction to the buzzkill and blind dates.
I smoked and drank it until the gas was all gone and I burned it all down and up into smoke
Just because I could, I knew it didn’t matter in the long run, just the short one, before a toke
Over the line sweet Jesus, where the buzzing never stops because the lows need to be higher
In the blue sky, the black sky with the stars, grey skyscrapers between blood and bone scatter.
Band of gypsies left me all alone, my father called me one of them, a gypsy prince I was, I am
Chip off of the old block, livin’ off of the lake’s streets and city boulevards, I knew well, oh yes
Fortune’s a matter if and only if there is no energy independent of a cosmic principle damned
To the end of the line where we get chances to roll the bones, snake-eyes dead, never confess.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. June 30, 2018 Saturday @ 9:11 PM PST
{ drafted while listenin’ to Darius Rucker #WagonWheel & random HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/hvKyBcCDOB4?t=3s }
