FOG FAKES THE DEAL, ALIVE LIVER
Eyes are always wide opened with the blinkin’ lids both above and below the windows to the holy soul
Light and the lack of it, the Dark are the qualities of all that I know, my epistemological certainty’s blow
Where I go to get away from the conflict of the yin and yang of the divine comedy, it’s no joke on yous
Nothing funny about being made the punch line of the humorless lackey, dominant subordinated blues.
Into the prepositions with the adjectives & pronouns jump the verbs & predicated nouns too subjective
Justice itself being no more than a ham sandwich, the least a philosopher’s stone can do is be objective
Whomever is first to the fortunate of being in the right place at the right time, the ghost injects venom
To go flowing inside your veins & arterial canals from head to toe, reflecting the cause of the full moon.
Inside of a baked souffle there are souled imitations of the Thing Itself, sacred, original form, Substance
Earth, Wind & Fire move in the Void and we get this & some other mutations of the Thing, the Form Id
Minions follow the leaders until they’re dead and gone, drank all of the whiskey, ale & beer for the Kid
Moved in an egg into dreamscapes of monetarist winner-losers of Wins’, Places’ & Shows’ dirty dance.
Alright three times but not a fourth or an infinite number of repetition of that mantra, it’s a damn movie
A guy in a car, says what he says ad infinitum, hence the rest of the saga, epic or mundane, it’s all I see
This wonderful world of pills and stone filtered water with or without the H2O, now that’s a bad trip man
Miracles and nothing but causes and effects of the Time in Space you get to see, nobody dies for old me!
Skies blue or grey, I’ve found are only the way I see it, the sky is an illusion of the eyeballs’ reception
Face the music, face the facts because you have no choice unless you’re at the precipice of extinction
Hope and pray you’re not, faith in the unknown universe’s holy mercy on our inanimate ebony shape
Paid for labor, taxed for Nothing but Air, saved for what is cancelled before you use it, old Zorro’s cape.
Sword slashin’ and knife slittin’ whatever needs to be let by a cut in the Singularity, near the matrix
Freedom’s illusion works the room, death is moot when the heart’s attacked by dead & gone tricks
Long, long ago before I was ever conceived by my fathers in heaven, there was Nothing at All, gods
Dreaming in color or not, I am I the middle of the lake, fishing in a rowboat with fly & spinning rods.
Pi is the 3.14 high in the sky, it’s imaginary yet all we have, the Truth, the Justice are the Germanic silk
As worms perform all of the work, the essence of the leftovers is the gold, the silver, the mother milk
No need or want for another thing if you’ve got everything that exists, everything that exists, we must
Even everything that will be eventually won’t be at some spin of the Earth, this is It, In God Men Trust.
Nothing I have ever sensed in this life on Earth is my possession, even with a title or license, it’s a loan
Repaid upon the soul’s exit from the 208 bones you leased for this Life, that’s Life in a fast lane’s koan
Moronic behavior exhibited by the all too human intelligentsia which peruses the zoos of the kinfolk
Finale awareness of all of this, origin to ends is what happens before the lights go out for your choke.
by
rjj stephan, i
c. Mardi, March VIIth, MMXXIII Anno Domini @ 1212 PMPST
{ #KilledAWord listenin’ to @EricChurch link @ https://youtu.be/ta3r6l6HOjM }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.
Light and the lack of it, the Dark are the qualities of all that I know, my epistemological certainty’s blow
Where I go to get away from the conflict of the yin and yang of the divine comedy, it’s no joke on yous
Nothing funny about being made the punch line of the humorless lackey, dominant subordinated blues.
Into the prepositions with the adjectives & pronouns jump the verbs & predicated nouns too subjective
Justice itself being no more than a ham sandwich, the least a philosopher’s stone can do is be objective
Whomever is first to the fortunate of being in the right place at the right time, the ghost injects venom
To go flowing inside your veins & arterial canals from head to toe, reflecting the cause of the full moon.
Inside of a baked souffle there are souled imitations of the Thing Itself, sacred, original form, Substance
Earth, Wind & Fire move in the Void and we get this & some other mutations of the Thing, the Form Id
Minions follow the leaders until they’re dead and gone, drank all of the whiskey, ale & beer for the Kid
Moved in an egg into dreamscapes of monetarist winner-losers of Wins’, Places’ & Shows’ dirty dance.
Alright three times but not a fourth or an infinite number of repetition of that mantra, it’s a damn movie
A guy in a car, says what he says ad infinitum, hence the rest of the saga, epic or mundane, it’s all I see
This wonderful world of pills and stone filtered water with or without the H2O, now that’s a bad trip man
Miracles and nothing but causes and effects of the Time in Space you get to see, nobody dies for old me!
Skies blue or grey, I’ve found are only the way I see it, the sky is an illusion of the eyeballs’ reception
Face the music, face the facts because you have no choice unless you’re at the precipice of extinction
Hope and pray you’re not, faith in the unknown universe’s holy mercy on our inanimate ebony shape
Paid for labor, taxed for Nothing but Air, saved for what is cancelled before you use it, old Zorro’s cape.
Sword slashin’ and knife slittin’ whatever needs to be let by a cut in the Singularity, near the matrix
Freedom’s illusion works the room, death is moot when the heart’s attacked by dead & gone tricks
Long, long ago before I was ever conceived by my fathers in heaven, there was Nothing at All, gods
Dreaming in color or not, I am I the middle of the lake, fishing in a rowboat with fly & spinning rods.
Pi is the 3.14 high in the sky, it’s imaginary yet all we have, the Truth, the Justice are the Germanic silk
As worms perform all of the work, the essence of the leftovers is the gold, the silver, the mother milk
No need or want for another thing if you’ve got everything that exists, everything that exists, we must
Even everything that will be eventually won’t be at some spin of the Earth, this is It, In God Men Trust.
Nothing I have ever sensed in this life on Earth is my possession, even with a title or license, it’s a loan
Repaid upon the soul’s exit from the 208 bones you leased for this Life, that’s Life in a fast lane’s koan
Moronic behavior exhibited by the all too human intelligentsia which peruses the zoos of the kinfolk
Finale awareness of all of this, origin to ends is what happens before the lights go out for your choke.
by
rjj stephan, i
c. Mardi, March VIIth, MMXXIII Anno Domini @ 1212 PMPST
{ #KilledAWord listenin’ to @EricChurch link @ https://youtu.be/ta3r6l6HOjM }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.
