P H I L O S O P H I A

Friday, September 27, 2019

W.W.A.R.D.?

W.W.A.R.D.?

FORTH & BACK, BAWLIN’ INSIDE

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, September 26, 2019

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Hoarse and unable to say the word, nothing but mercy and love for the four legged big ones

Moving us all further than we’ve ever meant to go, out into the Tundra and Jungle dry runs

Paranormal and just a bit unhinged from Reality as we know it, substance of the highest bid

What’s been leftover by the supernovas and singularities, defunct since the First Cause kid.

My babies came from me and I came from a baby, grown up into the Earth and Sun, One’s

Finest smoke and gusts of pure power winds, injected into lungs for the blow of It’s guns

Aces, Kings, Queens and the Jacks of all trades, the masters of the None, Nothing’s Voids

Perusal of the opinions generated by the dead men, philosophers of continental androids.

Kicking the can for the fun of it, the game with hidden rules to stay within the realm too

Cannot go out to blow your top outside of the venue, gonads and eggs slide aside for you

It is not what it never was and everyone alive knows it, ignorant and wise, same old Us

We move in and out of the dream, forgetting the nature of the beast’s slumber, the fool!

Makin’ up the reasons for loving and hugging and kissing, it’s a survival mechanism byte

One without the end in mind, unforgiven, unforeseen and malignant beyond the montage

Brutal scales played from an A flat to a B sharp to a ZZ Top concert of rolling rock sight

Bad, evil in a sense but more like the Goodness of the essence, smokin’ back of the badge.

Mirrored image in the reflection of still water and shined glass mirrors, what to see & fast

Not just One but Many more than one, a multitude of shattered shards of subatomic blasts

Armor of skin and bone, shields high and swords drawn against the machine gun’s blow

It is love, it is charity, it is humanity, self realization that we’re dead, the herd’s gone glow.

Stallions and mares galloping through the shallows, running away from paid hungry cats

Hiding and seeking for the sake of survival, avoiding the tooth and nail shredding my fats

Muscles down the hatch, broken bones open for the marrow, it’s the life of the teeny boners

Cells of amino acid, like whiskey in a bottle, a way too high preservation, 4 cornered w#ores.

r j j stephan, i

c. September 26th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:44 PM PST

W.W.A.R.D.?