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MARLEY’S SIGNS, SUPERNOVA SINS
If you have none, you don’t want any, pressure is a heavy load on the psyche’s Id to see
No negotiation with the Ego or Super One overlord of us all, conscience of nations ages
Humankind from the beginning of DNA appearance to the mutation of holy macrophages
In the middle of empty, deep space, far from other suns and interplanetary cosmic debris.
Ambassador of this here and that there, a harbinger of the future shock, avante guard milieu
Militant, regal, Vatican-like culture protecting the status quo, powers-that-be not you, Bard
Priests in the middle of a dark glass bead game, a given, clueless descendants of cosmic stew
Still may be evidence of a dream within a dream, your awareness afraid the Earth is too hard.
Inner motivation inherited from the programmers who left you with DNA and UFO’s drones
Refuse of Right and Wrong actions and spoken or written words, Good and Evil syndromes
Debunked pretensions of childhood hooks thrown by corporate thought tanks, God is Dead
Who said that? God said that, that’s how we know it’s true. RIP to the heavenly father head.
On a holiday or workday, undead after a million years of drudgery in our misanthrope culture
A point is reached metaphorically and literally right here and now, where y’all are swinging
Of the days and nights, the matter and the form of cosmic fragmentation, under low pressure
Blown out from the nucleus to the arms of an astral spray of hydrogen expanse, Big Banging.
OK, somebody shot the sheriff and the deputy but it was not the bad guys that did it, yes true
It was you and me who left the treasure unguarded, didn’t stop the mass illegal, idiot dudes
Let the flood gates wide open not for Mexican citizens but for the whole GD world’s misfits
Maybe it’s the terrorists in sheep clothing on shores, on borders, sheriffs shot in the hoods.
In debt or in pockets flush with cash in forms of credit and debit to data linkage, Earthbound
Not that you didn’t know that we’re a computer chip and you’re a data byte, holy cyborg robot
On another hand if there’s a hell below and you want to know how far heaven is, death is Not
Or Josephine, grampas and grammas did just that, where are they now, stone on the ground.
by
r j j stephan, i { Dr-eds #TitForTat on a #ChainGang, now git git & rock your arse off y’all! }
c. Friday, January Eighteen, Two Thousand Nineteen, Year of The Lord of Rings {1-18-2019}
W.W.A.R.D.?
