COME TO STARS’ & SAINTS’ HALOS
If not for the evolution of the orgasm, just like the lemmings jump, mammals would vanish
What I’m referring to is Nature’s evolution would never allow survival of any shadow’s dish
If not for the cosmic soup left over from the Big Bang’s solar system, creative internet stream
From Nothing we all became what we are, what you see’s what you get, our holyhell scream.
My town and your ciudad in the middle of nowhere or deep in a hood’s magnificent OMG
I do not exaggerate when I say that One could not make this up, it must be an accident I see
Complete and utter fear of the shadows that move in the day and the night, irrational scare
Get jacked up on the sugar and monosodium glute, fascinated by all of the girls’ long hair.
It’s much more and much less at the same time, in spades, play cards or roll snake eyes’ die
Anything to win the jackpot that is the jackass’s gold down the road, invested blue soul’s ice
Pawned it all to get the return of it all, now with nothing left after the last bet came up dry
It’s purple or red at one extreme of the spectrum, Spirit devours the prism’s light, high price.
In a dark place where the stars never sparkle, the sun never shines, there is Nothing living
No bodies and no souls, no spirits in the night, from my lips to God’s ears’ good old waxing
I am not in jail, I am not in a full lockdown, high security place free from the shanking dag
Killed none, blamed for a spree on fifteen or twenty, innocent of the guilt, a murdered jag.
From the tip of the Earth’s mountain snowcaps to the bottom of the Mariana Trench’s matrix
Everything’s everything and that appears to be an inescapable fact of life, as is you got my six
From the virus to the dinosaurs, spiders, snakes and Homo Erectus, we’ve come into this One
Hide under your bed, FUN to be these Homo Sapiens on a #Holloween dead moon, BOO son!
When you die, you’re dead and I’m really not a Jehova perpetrator of Truth or Lies of sheet
Being in me is exactly like the being in you, consume my flesh and bone, get you in the mood
Without the power, Corpus Christ to die and there is no spirit or soul to boot, so die real good
Revolutions won’t be televised but UFO’s left monster signs, we’re all Holloween sweet meat.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mercredi, ROCKTOBER 31, 2018 @ 7:11 AM PST
{ DRAFTED while #ScreamingInThePumpkinPatch listenin’ to #TheNightmareBeforeChristmas #ThisIsHolloween on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/kGiYxCUAhks }
W.W.A.R.D.?
