#HighRider #LowBalls #KickYourArse #3DChess

THIRD DIMENSION BETWEEN FIRST & SECOND CHECKMATES *
Not being a dot or a period's point, so to speak, I don't know what that's like, I can't know It
A being a priori and a posteriori for the sake of the whole shebang, so immune to Nothing too
No need or want to be animated yet the full thrust of being replicated, by God and too human
A song sung by nobody in sight, some sirens in the distance crying about a no good dead man.

Mortified to be a stench factory of accumulated matter, condensed and transformed into a Me
I, myself know the way it's all going to go down from now until doomsday, that moment's glee
When you find out that your last breath is all you get for free, that's it, caput, you'll be in rooms
From St. Louis to Tipperary and back to the holy host we all come from, our po' mothers' wombs.

Now, let me see if I've got this straight, meaning that If I do have it right, y'all don't really matter
Not even a small bit of love is left over when you cease to be an animated man or woman hipster
In expletive of philosophy, you glean universal rules for particular units of Fire in outerspace Time
After all's said and all is done, the finish line's crossed and the race is over, God knows DNA slime.

And on to the next race of DNA evolution in Space-Time warped in hydrogen and oxygen gasoline
Earth the soul and heart of all we will ever know, except the astronauts and cosmonauts we fling
Out of our orbit into the bliss of the abyss, the Void between our sanity and our origin's ignorance
It's bliss to Be without responsibility for the activity of the gas inside the outside of creased pants.

Altar boy to musician-scholar to old man watchin' days turn to night as the world spins, in control
Of everything under the burning, mortal sun, star of our mothers, fathers & children, sibling foal
All in One human race to be alive and well, healthy and wealthy, not poor or sick, yet a holy ghost
Came without intention to fix or heal wounded egos but to have faith in blinded eyes of The Host.

My move and it's a checkmate back to you, third dimension, the second one too, anyway it's over
Broad strokes of a pen for an authorization of Force to change the Tide of natural selection myth
That this is some form of random event, a life of conscious experience, that's life's ups and downs
Buzzing consciousness between my ears moves my heart's soul to free 'em, old gold, sad clowns.

by
r j j  stephan, i    * #checkmated
c.  Saturday, January 30th, 2021 A.D. @ 3:33 AMPST
{ AM jammin' to some #LooseGrooves of @WARtheBand link @ https://youtu.be/aAXwaPrajiE }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?

#CHANT #DREAM #WOKE #Apemen & @TheKinks @ThorGodOfThunder

HOME TO THE ASTRONAUT, EARTH DIRTY WATER AND LOVE
Filibuster this you mothers and fathers who believe that there's a life after death, a sham's bet
Pick life after death's unknown and you'll get there for certain, as if there's a higher boondoggle
Than the one with your fingers on the trigger/keyboard, thumbs up or down to the empty set
Final ending after the stage is cleared in a Super Nova, bytes to smithereens, Nothing to google.

Completely adept at living and dying on one of the seven continents of mixed up monkey shines
Picked up from their elders who knew nothing more than a rock, a pebble or a bud of the pines
Punks and the elders in rehab homes who'll never leave their drone-like American heroes, pills
They are round and easy to swallow with a little bit of help from the H2O gas, to fuel the shills.

Purple skin where the bruise hurts in the middle but not in the bitter end, Nothing feels so good
No evil at the place where nothing is left to breathe in and out, what's the matter with GD hell
Contact high with the climate change low, knowing the Earth has a spin of it's own, a Robinhood
Ready to exhume the owner and the designer, the creator of the matrix' position to buy and sell.

I'll put your mind at ease, you'll Be the power guided to rise to the hilt of Cream, fake milk spilled
Or get drunk by the prisoners of the war, war against Evil to Live forward and backward, tin foiled
Common yet extinct forms of things that used to be alive, out the doors of perception prize fights
Apemen forms of giants' ghosts at the End of our Days, spoken words, original sins, apple's bytes.

In the cave of monks, history is written on the wall with the blood of dead ones, old & in the way
Putrid tastes & rancid smells entering the pure halls of newborn orphans, raped by ma & pa rays
Historical and hysterical at one and the same time, your last chance is revoked, follow your leader
Who is your leader?  It better be YOU, not him or her because they'll try to make you get higher.

Mind on the edge and off of the cliff, falling into the abyss without any bottom, no core, nothing
Bums & junkies, a browsing bunch of n'er do-wells, wannabe brokers of FOX #gamestop cellphones
Hot, luke warm on the frozen stiffs we bury in boxes underground or in tubes of ash human bones
Back to phonebooths and landlines, shut down towers of power, doom I say, you know the thing!

by
r j j  stephan, i
c.  Vendredi, January 29th, 2021 Anno Domini
{ Jammed while listenin' to @Journey HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/KDQrMoksJ4Q }
 
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?

#SanctuaryForJanuary #FixMeADrink #PutItToMyLips #GitGit #GoHomey #StraightToHehl

CANCEL HISTORY, MAGIC, A MENTAL SHEBANG NEVERMORE, TOMB OF aa *
Ethical decisions from innocent, #Me2 children, babies of civilization's Ruins of #fake humans
Complicated, simple minds with complex mathematical representations of empty-void scrums
You, your parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, enemies and friends are the ash of mortality sins
Alpha, Omega the plains of the X-men who either evolved from scum or on abandoned bums.

Morbidity rates as high as they've been since the origin of the system scat, tuna's are whale
Mixed in the cans with your mother's mayonnaise and pickled relish bits, shake your GD tail
Even apes' scat comes out in the end, they cover it up, they bury it all underground, squeeze
Pinch the final loaf out of the Ends of Time, we're all way too human, whatever jazz means.

Punks rollin' with the #Sell because they cannot buy, when they sell it all, it'll be the #fake milk
Young punks, hobos and civil servants hiding in the bush, in back of the anonymous #GuyFuchs
Radio waves and TV waves putting the Gold and Silver into the raped slum lord head, #godnose
On being your egg before your were inseminated, teach your children instead of the #Marx' ilk.

What is the meat but the dead animals' flesh and bones that used to be alive, death we love It
A means to Life, dead animals and plants consumed, processed #OldSchool in the #White light
Black lights make all skin look purple, black and white are just long-knife, angry colorless eyes
In and out of the filling stations, consuming more or less until the last breath, a colonic release.

Explaining the scent of death, a release of subways' innards of your own choice, #NoTuna hunger
Notwithstanding you not being there for the experience, just recollect your friends who love her
Mother Earth's power, electrical essence to get the Cause, first & last to be a happy, fisted HoHo
Eaten magic to put theoretical, social justice to rest, kill a Word, mind's intelligence is God's foe.

Lay your head to rest, go to sleep like you'll never, ever wake up again, #WakeUp and be #Woke
Your fabulous memory of who you are & where you came from before your birth, is null & void
Knowing nothing about reality, about bacteria & virus infections, science creates premises' coke
Up the nose, down the lungs and into the blood to feed the brain and become a robotic android.

Powerdown, be all alone, after all there's Nothing other than you here & now, we're in the bliss
Time of present, past & what may or may not be in the future prognosis, first-class stars' homers
Who you are & what you are, what you'll be when you inhale your final exhale, a Void of fears
Tiny bits of Charm regret it, #ItsAllOver, Space & Time's gold wind, #Trouble's a Marxist cyst.

by
r j j  stephan, i
c.  Jeudi, Janvier 28th, 2021 Anno Domini  *WTF DOES THIS MEAN?
{  #LetDadGetLaid to get me here and now, it had to be done!  Drafted this piece listenin' to #WildThing by @Tone-Loc on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/4XKIAdeMxzc }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?