For a final count starting from zero on the way to a turnpike’s detour onto 6 PM #Fakenews
Mixed the powder of the power with the H2O liquid of everything on Earth, got Jello mouth
Detergent in my wheaties and soap in my cheerios, the elixir of non-champions, holy doubt
I am One and if I had my dithers, I would be two of me, we’re in the middle of the deep blues.
Adios and valla con dios amigos and amigas, you don’t have to return the salute, I get it now
Tribute to the sins of the fathers and sons hung upon mothers and sisters of a farmer’s plow
On the way to a slaughter with the rest of the herd, it’s a Wendy’s double blue-cheeseburger
In paradise or on Earth, it’s all the same, if you eat matter, it must be evacuated to outhouser.
Performance enhanced by the excitement of the terror expected at any moment, God high up
Or low down, side to side and inside out, the whole shebang is in the grab bag’s fully teed cup
Herbs and spices move the inner thing itself to the end-all, the be-all, omnipresent, holy Void
Steroids make me feel no pain, the injury and breakdown occurred, death threat I can’t avoid.
Ways to the final destination and the means to move the dream along nightmare lines of dots
Leading to the back of your head, what you stare at in wonder, in a sight unseen, cyber-bots
Programmed to mingle with the organic matter of consciousness, shift, alt, delete like butter
As if what was, never was and never could have been, on to a new horizon without a rudder.
In the heat of the daylight and the frozen, ice cold of the twilight night, I eat hard looks’ food
Ugly and without any positive Karma left to hide inside of the furnace of the rubber soul dude
The God, the gods, the One who began what is begotten right here and now, front and center
At attention or parade rest, it’s always at ease for feet to the knees, it’s a patriotic mad hatter.
For the points connected between One and inifinity, in the valleys and on the mountain tops
Fathers and mothers gave all of their inner savings to the dreamers and their keystone cops
Trouble is a little or a lot, either way, it’s just a little bit of soul gone bad, too long in the Void
No connections and no relations to the Thing Itself, witch’s brews swigged ‘til magic played.
Dead and gone, babies and I, everyone on every continent, in every town, melted Gold
From the dark, colorless lead poisons of the solar nova, I arose and I’m here, now Old
Been through the baby diapers, schools, jobs and the waiting for the last breathing, gasps
Notwithstanding, the wigs and the passports to get you from your hometown to my wasps.
Vacant stores on the shore and in the middle of the heartland, nobody to buy the matter back
From the ground to the treetops and down to the core of the planet’s spinning rock, we frack
Only to mine the holy of holies and put them all down for the One, last One standing, a Monk
Not a monkey, not an ape but a monk, all alone, like a God in a twilight zone, my #Slamdunk.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. September 21st, 2019 A.D. @ 5:55 PM EST
{ drafted while jammin’ to #TheBoss, Bruce Springsteen #Fire in concert & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/d5PoIrcyd34 }
W.W.A.R.D.?
