WHISKEY GLASS, MR. FORTUNATO
From the First Cause of the benefits received with the gasps of gas you get in the tubular hive
I analyze the data and the function of the equation has an alpha and omega figure, it’s zero
We all 'was' born and raised to pretend that existence is more than a disappearing act of a loon
Coming and going up and down from nowhere, empty space to the ground of being god-goon.
Man oh man, woman oh woman, started a fire in the eagle’s nest and hatched the eggs early
In flight down to the bottom of the roots, at the ground where nothing moves, it’s all buried
Underground or up top to be picked apart by the hungry, angry birds, selfish for sheer shreds
Of the human bondage in the skulls of men and women sentenced to eternal mortality’s beds.
I go from day to night knowing that the Earth is spinnin’ and wobblin’ keepin’ my mind down
Way down low where the bon fires burn and the whiskey flows until we laugh and fight gone
Nothing left to smoke n’ drink when the party’s over, kegs empty, bottoms up with my #Shine
Cleanup crew’s all gone, One left over here and now, that’s me & my sweet-leaf, burnt #Pine.
Funeral for all of my friends n’ relatives today, this day living in my infamous recollecting Id
It’s gone, nobody and nothing can remain alive forever, it’s a transitory state of being an Ego
Now, here and later, then will be exactly the same like a long time ago, before the lights blew
Explode what’s already gone, Good, Bad/Evil and Ugly into this and fade in, care to continue.
Orphans in love with the facts of life, the spunk of Adam and Eve, long nightmare of starlight
Like the meat inside a sandwich of flour and grain in a menudo of cosmic-acid porridge scum
Nothing wrong with being scum as long as it’s life, all life is sacred, virus and bacteria on top
Without evolving from the one cell to two cell ad infinitum, eliminated function, it’s murder!
Rolled up my sleeves back in the day before my teens, cache of cash for the stuff, nine to five
To me, my family, my friends and everybody alive who could read, write or double-speak it
Stayin’ alive for the longest possible time you can struggle to survive a hostile environment
On the block or the farm, in a ditch or in the pen, white trash’s black privilege commingled.
I swear to the gods, to God, to Ala, to Buddha, to Confucius and my mama’s grave in Chicago
I will love this life until the day I die, beautiful to know that I will be comin’ home to Mother
Not mama who conceived my presence, papa got lucky, time and space here, now, down wit it
I wish a M.F.W. so I could birth rattlesnakes, #Toeheads, #Hillbillies in a rare Earth holy slit.
Eating peanuts in a butter form and jelly in a gel fruit form, makin’ the matter form a blow
Wrapped in an invisible, microscopic code of solar mutation, a score of a red dirt road below
From this pinpoint on to the final gasp of gas to make your eyeballs bulge and scat evacuate
Country, city, planet’s crusty coast to my whiskey glass, last call shots, premature ejaculates.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. June 15, 2019 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST
{ drafted listenin’ to Morganwallen #WhiskeyGlasses & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/FjBp30kjzTc?list=RD0C1arT5iE1E }
W.W.A.R.D.?
