HAPPY EASTER ALA ISLE TO 7TH ZEN-SONS, EVE'S ADAM'S NO FUN
It's a tradition passed on from the campfires that burnt the wild weed seeds to flirt
Fell out of the black and blue to be buried into the red, white & the Blues sand & dirt
Justifying dancing when there's no party, no partner but there's a beat about a hole
Surrendering to ONE, a wholeness of the oceanic motion, stirred well an empty soul.
Over the rainbow isn't as far as you might think, it's a refraction of sunlight as you see
Pattern of discovering that there's more to reality than meets a 3rd eye's portal entry
I might die tonight but if you lie to me, I'll never know the facts, factoid life of a feed
The attention which is fluid, on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being most fluid, I am a 1/2 breed.
1/2 bred attention to the reality before us all forces my hand to discriminate vs fools
Although it's no fault of any fool that they falsely reason to inevitable, conclusive rules
Commanding deity of this here & that there leading edge of a cube's incomprehensable buzz
Mundane Monday, it just can't be trusted, fine wave-infused in pecky cedar's fine gold dust.
You get me straight and you got me, from that point on to infinity, frets shred, jams finalized
Babysitters moved on from the easy gig from God to the dirty rocks, commandments all dead
Doing to others as you would have them do to you, main ingredient of peace on Earth, no war
One thing more than than that miniscule point on dimensional matrix, Time like ne'er before.
Immersion within the complex acid combination, thought arises to self-examination of eyelids
At the core, in the center of the whole shebang, death stops the multiplication of productives
Regardless of your or my respect for the living and the dead, there are no shortcuts to the End
It's a finale without an encore, all's complete, you're all alone with me, I'm good, return-send.
Over & under, above & below, either or both as it is, I'm the first choice to shoot a shorty film
At eleven or seven with or without the camera roll, matter and energy sugar, atom bondo rim
Monkified humanity, all too human, still on the journey from ignorance to enlightened T-bone
Mesmerized in dreams of being too human, a regiment of monkeys site-seeing, GI Joe blown.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. FREEZEMBER XXVIIth, MMXXI Anno Domini, Lundi @ 808 AMPST
{ Conscious of death's end of life, #Scratch led to the instant/constant awareness of The Fact of Life, jammed on @CurtisMayfield #BackToTheWorld on a youTube loop @ https://youtu.be/kvkBtKi9VIc }
Cat-lick boys in a mental & physical state of being recently conceived in the past two point two hours
Urgently attempting to decide to remain viable or to annhilate the essence of one's orgiastic splendors
Got news for all who follow bouncing balls, timing is everything and the only thing that kill's the son
Daughters of the Evil Eye, both above & below this planet's dirty ball of rock & roll haze, in a union.
Not a teamster nor a public employee, gathered are the throngs of unaborted, unwanted grown up kids
They wait for the handouts rather than striving for excellence, it's never their fault, they got fornicated
Divine parental guidance in learned behavioral principles of ethical morality is defunct, nihilistic cud
Yet I'm layin' this down on the line for those about to rock or those who mourn the facts of life's studs.
In the two by fours and the roofing shingles covering the plywood, this home, this house is the One's
I have nothing and it's all there is, to be or not to be isn't the only question comin' out of the cinnabuns
It's the categorical imperative on steroids, the entry into the Singularitys' Black Hole, a dynamohums
First Cause's gravitational collapse to the inevitable neutrino-exploding implosion, it's junkys & bums.
These ne'er-do-wells have the audacity to ask for and wait for handouts before they beg to be busted
By the enforcement of vagrancy laws and efficient incarceration of the bums and junkies, crime's caput
Now then, let all of the bad guys who are in jail get loose, back out on the streets of the cities, bums
Remember that only a junky and a bum knows what it is all about, live or die, angels in city's slums.
Devils are alive in the mind of the merry men and women who celebrate death of God, annually Man
Reminding of the memory that can't be forgotten by the DNA code, it's out of human hands, no joke
Although it's a peculiar state of affairs to be alive and know you're gonna die someday like an egg yoke
It doesn't matter that you know it, you can't control Timing although the timing is indeed, everything!
Now then, the war ends in the peace that leads to the inevitable immoral and unethical flee from One
Separate from the mass of bacteria-like infections of the petri dish of this solar system, of this sun, son
All you know is that you don't know anything other than you got lucky to think that you are more now
Conclusion deduced is Truth, Justice is a ham sandwich's One-lipped kiss, put two together & blow.
There's no Humpty Dumpty fallin' off any real Berlin Wall or Wall of China, not even off Wall Street
Simple to complex is way too much for me in 2021 but in a week, 2022 and I have got news for you
Think like a type of ape-like creature who has no idea what happens to bodies other than stink, stank
They get buried like all of the thinking and unconscious do, underground, underwater and under Me.
Bloody wine from water is a transubstantiation of molecular structure but bread muting into godust
Please forgive my original sin that morphed into a mortal and venial one, I'm sorry man! It's a must.
What I meant to imply is Nothing is all there is, due to the nature of the Earth beast, I'm gonna die too
No choice although if I could be God, well then, I'd reconsider the reconoiter of the plantary Foo Foo.
Bums, only because their birth was an error in human judgement, no product of survival or the fittest
Jungles full of cement and rocks that rolled out of place, into a corner, on a pedastel of a phuckphest
Ma and Pa watch from above or below, laugh and smile about that conceptual analysis of the chatter
Catholic girls did what they had to, we all got here somehow, it's a deja vous, Invention of Mothers!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. FREEZEMBER XXVIth, MMXXI Anno Domini @ 711 Ante-Meridien, PST
{ Drafted in the #DeepEnd in spite of my self, invisible as usual when the year winds down to the imaginary close of Falling down into Winter for a few months, as I jammed unto oblivion listenin' to @FrankZappa #CatholicGirls & HITS @ https://youtu.be/5fdcDN4LbYQ }
