FUBAR MASK IN TOMBSTONE DUST
by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, September 27, 2020
Coming from a Joker DNA in Space next to your naked bones screwed dead, yet I am not lost
I need to find myself alone again, where I used to be without yours or anyone else’s hype cost
Being beholding to helping you every step you take, every move you make, so stay in control
Finished, caput, totally out of the favors that used to be Humanity’s #COVID19 diseased soul.
Just let me have my food, my shelter, my drinks and smokes and I’m good until a bitter End
When it all comes down from the outside and begins collapsing within, I won’t leap off a cliff
Y’all go to the place where nothing remains, like a song that nobody ever sings to money lend
To the future and to the past we give this present day and night, out of our control, just a GIF.
Today is a trick from yesterday planting seeds to sprout flowers to grow into terps for twerps
Serving thousands who alter their consciousness for the sake of sanity and avoidance of Hell
Which may be where the sinners are sent once it’s determined that they couldn’t give a slurp
A confined, extremely hot place, #Walkinonthesun with @SmashMouth ringin’ a Liberty bell.
Cryptic scribbles on walls & first grade Primer lingo give you keys to a 1932 Ford coupe 409ci
Dual quad carb for an after walk on the sun’s Time Warp, nothing to smoke, not even a pinch
Jacked up and revealed, then retracted and immersed into the lower echelons around you pal
Joined at the hip, stiff lip Hippy chicks born to grandparents from Woodstock, a cinch, UB1.
In a manner of speaking in tongues and whipping the girl scouts into shape for the cub scouts
Den mothers do nothing but monitor the fledgling taxpayers’ account of their twists & stink
Eventually after decades, they’ve grown into a connoisseur smoke of burning leaf and seeds
Mint flavored to the taste buds, past the windpipe into the lungs and back up through I.N.C.
To be this man or woman, this human being is as easy as being a virus or bacterial germ-bug
It is animated and dependent on the host, the living and breathing, self-replicating man-slug
What’s this substantial humanity, dirty rocks of planet Earth, Form of a Godsmackin’ room
With or without the original plans from the creator of the entire COSMOS, we’re all doomed!
I brought a knife to the gunfight because nobody with a gun, loaded and cocked fears a blade
Sharp enough to puncture thin steel and skin, to slice limbs, heads and vital organs that fade
As the blood and innards become the outside of what used to be deep within, contained milk
Hot with the flames of scalding, hot lava from the volcanic interruptus of the Big Bang’s ilk.
There’s a minstrel attempting to strum and sing the Unknowns and the Unforgettable hymns
Heroes and heroines said nothing while the spinners of tales took to the weaving of the hums
Words made flesh to die in between the covers of the books nobody reads about gods we trust
#2 odor, unforgivable, like a dream in a dream, One Singularity, disintegrated my balls’ dust.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Dies Domenica, September 27, 2020 Anno Domini @7:11 Ante Meridien, P S T }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
