ONLY SAY IT ONE TIME, TYRANT LIBERTY
by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, July 3, 2019
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Black Hole victory is all It is, a hunk of burning Nothingness and I fought for the Mad Hatter
To be or not to be the Shakespearean-Bacon drivel from the olden days is not One’s cup o’ tea
It is the be all of the beings who animated bi-pedaling to and fro from home to work to a play
In a New York Minute, angels leftover from the Big Bang could disintegrate energy & matter.
Paradise inside of a mental configuration on a blank screen, like your dad’s projection screen
Showing you your life you could never remember because you were only in It to win it unseen
Cream of the crop’s DNA protruded from the anomalous mass, anonymously a USA born-son
Of men or mice evolved, random solar acid, we’re morally ethical deductions of pond scum.
Cosmic menudo dodo is not a bad thing to be, the alternative is absolutely a garbage air-lock
Never empty and always full of what it is to be me, you and everything else, matter’s damned
It is not my fault, do not stab the messenger because the drastic message is a hook for a man
Freedom, independent thought with no regard for anything but logic and reason, too human.
Perfection of the holy emptiness, just a final thought you and I will have, last gasp of air’s gas
Never look back because you’re out on a cliff without any steps left, north, south, east or west
On the ground, nowhere to go, all alone in emptiness, like mama’s womb, been there, done It
Anoint a king, a head of the herd, to rule deoxyribonucleic acid stardirt, holy ash of this pit.
Historical repetition of failure does not suffice to teach the DNA damaged genome, hopeless
A step or two from a random accident of heavenly bodies, exploding into smithereen bullets
Restless hearts and expecting souls keep the cream on top of the whitewater rapid eagle eye
Two wings spread above the stratosphere, all up for me, been a while but now, already gone!
In chains of Hercules with the key of Aphrodite in my secret attic where no stairs lead, all me
I’m already gone before you knew I was here in the first or second place, grandfathered to be
Reason and logic analyzed and metabolized within the bounds under flashing neon lights
Pitiful and down and out, nobody to help pull me up by the jock strap, lost all of the fights.
Lie to people, lay down in places in Space and get laid down by the undertaker’s mauling
Suckin’ fluids out instead of just covering in sackcloth or burlap and bury under an oak tree
Or dumping in the ocean or sea, left for the hungry fish to reincarnate the macrophage of me
Lately, Johnny the new kid in town has been elevated to the head of the gang, hopeless, see.
Many expressions of the senses to point to why we have the tears on our pepper grey beards
Abandoned or disappointed or both, grown zygotes gulping a big swallow of anti-viral glide
Blinded by sunlight I stared at when I was twelve, back desked & couldn’t see green boards
7-bridged philosopher, who did post & talk some shyte down at a full moon bitchin’ riverside.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. July 3rd, 2019 A.D. @ 11:11 AM Mercredi
W.W.A.R.D.?
