I APPRECIATE THAT, NOW GO! *
We all have come to an understanding and an expectation of good behavior, hillbilly in theory
As if you were raised by the categories of rulers’ bishoprics sustained by rational chicanery
Nobody knew it, that’s just the way it is, the way it’s always been since air bit the dazed One
Drinkin’ in the air for tomorrow’s work, labor of loving mothers and fatherless children sons.
Here is the left over bone to pick, there’s a presentation of the issue and an immediate choice
Repair damage or completely destroy the unit’s union, we be kinda rockin’ hard to bone skins
Burned rope instead of makin’ square knots to keep the ship-shapely Rolls Royces from ruins
Blown trumpets and beaten tom-toms get the rhythm in sync with the blues of girls n’ boys.
Acculturated and clueless to the end games’ purpose for winning the games, sick to death
Of human beings’ moving about the seven continents, regurgitating the anti-matter breath
Five or six senses in play, uncoordinated into mass confusion and a recollection of dreams
Innocent nightmares and an adult’s day-mares remain, eastern eggs beaten, at-One creams.
Pole to pole and 360 degrees around the equator, 24,901.55 miles or 40,075.16 km, so long
It’s a long way around the squashed, burned out cluster of metallic, cosmic dust in any bong
A tube to light a bowl of crushed plant chlorophyll and inhale the burned fuel’s ashen flirts
Six feet under to avoid the consumption of organic remains, long sweaters and short skirts.
Luck or intention of the will, that and this over here are comin’ from the same place in space
Nowhere beginning there, going nowhere and actually getting nowhere fast, to save my face
Because I am proud of pretending that I know everything when I don’t, it’s all false fake news
The boy who cried wolf was sorry when the wolf came to bite and chew him, jeopardy clues.
Mercy has much to do with the whole shebang, it is the meaning of life as a human, acosmic
Absolute zero as the function of the calculus, motion as a variable equation’s solution is sick
Laying lower than the snails’ trails, going around the outside of the 40? Maybe, maybe not
Light speed unsupressed travels in straight lines until gravity bends the shape of I, the robot.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Sunday Gabriela-ish April 8th, 2019 A.D. @ 08:08 PM PST
{ *drafted in silence and rewarded with some Jeffersonstarship #Jane & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/6dfih0hdLTw?list=RD6dfih0hdLTw }
*FB Header of this jam is an image of a zig-zag digitized cranium!
W.W.A.R.D.?
