HER STOCKINGS’ FOOL, EVEN ZERO
Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, January 21, 2020
------------------ #375Yatowatts -----------------
Not Zorro but a zero, I got the memo, notes from the hinterland have landed in my purview
To see what you get before you get it, is the peace de la resistance, a rested-up shebang glow
Where your mama and daddy left you out in the cold, revelation ‘bout divine orgasmical US
We don’t care much anymore, disgust has overtaken the laundered money train’s magic bus.
It ain’t a metro or a greyhound, no cosmic medicine for an invisible, empty set of nihilism
Once you flip the switch and turn on the movement of the First Cause, it rolls on the chism
Nothing but the Chicago isms left over, I call them my inner chism, a word, a name for bliss
Always the other when it’s all OFF, I’m always ON at that Time in my personal Space’s fizz.
Was a punk because if I wasn’t the bullies would have punked me, city of sins and holy smells
Odor scents of blood from stockyards covered up the murder One, streets’ reverse flow swells
Where the garbage is refused to the rear of the housing, dumpsters ready for windy city wires
Molecular and atomic structures in forms ready to be dissolved into the muck, mire and fires.
Organizational maintenance be damned, chaos is the only way to be a fool for your stockings
Black netted, from the floor up to #here, my hand waves over my head, legs from rock-kings
Can’t wait to see eternity and the things themselves presented to naked eyes to see a holy sun
Married, engaged, betrothed, goin’ steady with One and only one, now until...I shot a 6 gun.
Hold it right there, looky here now, wrap your head around this, let it sink into empty minds
Where the darkness controls the entity that moves on points, lines, shapes, sizes I can’t find
In the emptiness beside and between the things that exist, things I can see and feel, I can eat
Consummation of the feast of life, a celebration of the marriage between the body-soul meat.
On a T-bone or some dead skin cells with the DNA to be as it’s always been, grounded, caput
Where’d your brothers, sisters and friends go the day they died? Into the Void’s ethereal cup
Are you ready to go? Are you prepared for the Unknown to show you the Way, mid-finger up
Counted your assets and debits, married to the mob’s nuclear family, godfather’s Will’s afoot.
Up, up and away from the stoned ground you know, like a spaceman goin’ crazy, as unknown
Outerspace nothing but innerspaced everything else, jewels from mothers and fathers blown
Fool for your stockings, if you’re listenin’ or not, yours not your girlfriends, I ain’t your Mama
Awaitin’ a return to sender, dreams all end in a moment, got #Wokeboned, Holy See, a Papa!
by
r j j stephan, i { *HEADER is Carol Ann & I in a embrace. Status - Main Squeeze! }
c. Mardi, Janvier 21st, 2020 A.D. @ 4:44 AM PST
{ Drafted listenin’ to the #FlipTheSwitch TheStones The Rolling Stones on the homemade video I made many years ago when the internet 1st began, back in the olden days, early 21st century, here’s a link to MY SELF-PRODUCED NONSENSE (last century), entitled, “EXTINCTION of SPECIES” on the youTube link @ https://t.co/VE5StxY2lU?amp=1 }
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FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
