SATURN WON'T DIE, IT'S A BURNT STAR #DeerInHeadLights #FixADrink

DRAGGIN’ SATURN DOWN HOME

by

Richard Joseph Stephan  ·  Saturday, October 20, 2018

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As I walk along the paths of my brothers and sisters before me, I see outside the party’s obit

Way back before you and I were born, here and now, lookin’ down here at what’s in yo’ face

Living and dying, but why? Just because? Um, nope. Guess again, pretend you’re an idiot

Comprehend a feeble minded, illogical idiot, creator of thought about an empty dot in space.

Then, finally, you can die without remorse and in due course, dematerialize into the star-stuff

A huge amount of oxygen and hydrogen already cindered for a Big Bang’s universal puff-fluff

Philosophical analysis and random interpretation based on assumptions, all #FakeNew facts

Followers follow leaders into their dark pyramid tombs, good, humane lemmings, ET hacks.

I got the Blues when I’m not playin’ around the classical jazz and rhythm of the beaten beats

Like a heartbeat next to your own, it is all there is between things, is the power of the seats

Makin’ the people sit down for a few moments and listen to the reason why, prophets vow

If they cared to know they will and they’ll freak out, a Void is All, Gold is God, take a bow.

Still, stare at the stained glass for a moment from center to perimeter, around circumference

Radii from the center to the outer edge of the matter, where nothing is left over to sense, zilch

Nothing is where you came from my friend, that is your God, your Buddha’s Krishna incense

Amazed at the age of reason that humanity, blinded by TV highlights, invisible oil/gold rich.

Just sayin’ that the tree-hugging humans want to assist with the Earth evolution into a Star

They know who they are, the ones who start forest fires by spontaneous combustion nova

Nobody else in the solar system or galaxy knows that our Earth is a Star, ready to be born

Humans impede the process by putting out the Fires needed for Combustion, humane scar.

Some day, the trees will once again be ready to ignite and the water of oceans will dissipate

Turning back into their own gas, one the Hydrogen and the other the Oxygen, back to space

Atoms and the atmosphere take off into the wild blue yonder and fade to Blackness’ fate

No time left for sergeants, captains or the minions that allow them to enjoy Nothing’s face.

by

r j j stephan, i { What would the boyz round here do if they knew? Header is Grateful Dead }

c. ROCKTOBER 20, 2018 AD @ 7:11 AM Samedi

{ drafted in absolute 100% silence, no music, nOthing other than the #MuseOfMine, om... }

 W.W.A.R.D.?

BLAST FROM THE PAST, RECYCLED BULL SCATOLOGY

GOT ME ON THAT (AXE) STRING BABY!

I can’t see what’s wrong with me, all I want to do is unbutton your zippers, chalk your cue

Shoot, it’s so bad to have my strings bein’ pulled, jackin’ me ‘round just because you can

One more day, another week, month or year, it doesn’t matter, the function is to love yous

Mortified and undefiled, a contradiction in the chain of fools, self mutilated mind in blues.

Contemplate the art before you, read and comprehend the nature of the feeling, long gone

No longer in my head, or my fingers to play the strings of your heart, all washed up in song

Meeting with the ends of the lives of the puppets is easy for the creator, the puppeteer’s art

Makin’ dummies say anything about anybody without regard for the humanity, don’t start.

I was gonna shack up with that red mini-skirt but I decided that a spider’s web wasn’t so sad

So much of a finality to it, being eaten by a hunger female spider, a genome thief, I’m a fool

I knew what I knew and know what I know and now you know it, everybody is good and bad

Smoke the leaves of the plants, inhale the nitrogen and oxygen with the DNA acid, we’re cool.

Looked from Chicago to Miami and back through Mississippi, Arizona, New Mexifornia too

Outgrowing the shape of some things becoming extinct, #FakeNews without skin in the game

Out of blood and circulation, without a leg or foot to stand on, inhale a holy ghost within you

See a mask over the illusion as it is, empty space, surrounded red buns, skirts claim to Fame.

The dummies are runnin’ the show though, the strings go from lips to feet, she needs a blow

Touched by dancin’ of marionettes, no worrying about the day after tomorrow, arc on a slab

Dummies movin’ their lips with a string being pulled up and down, say hey but yo, call a cab

That’s all they needed to say, gets anybody to thinkin’ about it, empty Void a tool, God’s UFO.

Long road back from the first to last breath, if you get to think about it, if you get lucky y’all

Don’t lose the faith in the unknown, since that is all you have, hope and love it all to work out

Always for the best for everybody, the alternative is unacceptable, back road to lonely street

Where the mob hangs out awaiting simple-minded innocents, young and old, Oahu to Crete.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. ROCKTOBER 19, 2018 AD @ 5:55 PM PST

{ drafted while jammin’ with ANA Popovic #FestivalMarseilleJazz2017 on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/DNYlIzOpiGM }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?

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W.W.A.R.D.?