CHOPPED-UP, BODY LIKE A #BACKROAD
Y’all can’t ever do what is impossible to be done by Man, eyes closed, way gone, too far All 8’s in the side or corner of the four-sided table in a four cornered room, perpendicular
See saw what blinded men & tone-deaf women hear, silly geese laid golden eggs’ shells
Here, now, fireside effects of DNA-injected germs are neither dysphoria nor dumbbells.
Holy Word snaps, all easy on the ears when you’re starved for devil’s food, cupcake!
Yellow or birthday, maybe just a celebration of Life or a final anniversary for the fake
At bottom, I was sunk and drunk on the salty far & away, above the top of holy way
Artificial kitty litter for the cats too cool to squat, bow to the master makin’ the hay.
One woman’s doom is another man’s mother, sister and daughter in high Woke-smoke
On the sixty-sixth route across formless states from D.C. to Lake Washington state’s gun
Coast to coast, we flows north to south, as deep rivers do above the equator’s arc-flock
Rain came down, evaporated back up, no home of the brave, all pretty girls are so fun.
Beauty is as beauty does, from mitosis to corpses, it’s the circle of life’s fairy dusted saga
Gods all immortal and mortals all a bastard of the thing itself, a bitch dog’s stud, lady gaga
Pain, suffering, pleasure, enjoy the day, the night & the leftovers fading into the woodwork
Braided hair, scalp to the split ends, it’s shorter than a longhair but longer than a bald dork.
It ain’t your fault that nobody’s in charge, no obligation to lie but if you don’t, you’ll then die
On the spot, a singularity without equal, presence remains even without being One good guy
What your wives and girlfriends said, yes they know you but you only y’all know cyber ghosts
Spirits confession in a Dark-Net box, kneeling, praying to be forgiven being One, Holy’s posts.
Nobody repeats the game’s rules more than once, ain’t no rules except no asking about rules
That means that there is only one golden rule to be or not to be here and now with the fools
Get to shut the Phuquin up, what’s the word except #WordUp, honey pot for the divined dead
Light don’t shine, stars don’t burn gas, you must be dead, there’s Earth dirt all over your head.
As the Brontosaurus growled at the Pterodactyl, I don’t care what day it is, you’re dead
I need the food for me & my kids, we’re gonna eat you like you’re going extinct today
It is what it is since it can’t be anything else, everything or nothing at all, it’s academics
Really, reality’s a form of mental hallucination appearing to be substantially cheap tricks.
Leaching the light, t-he firewater, East wind’s gas-air, it’s all here, right now like all of us, but
There’s no Mayday today but someday it may be the day you’ll always remember, say what?
The day you die, that’s right, you’ll remember that alright, so what you gonna do about Sins?
Direction everywhere challenged, E, W, N, S & between the latitude & longitude of meridians.
Formulate an argument quickly before I have to exit for my early grave before I turn a hundred
Dependents ain’t worried about you except for your cash & inheritance of your cache, you dead
Can’t see how it all goes down when you begin petrifying into a stiff, embalming, cremating, say
Absolutely certain that you’ll not remain alive in human form, live like gods or extinct DNA\RNA.
It is fair to shout in all silent rooms and it’s fine to be #NotNeutral & #NotNegative all mom teats
How high can your brain & mind be before it overloads into seizure of heart & hot, holy spirits?
It’s all coming to a deduced conclusion, no need to assume the facts of premises, just induction
Platonic or Socratic, perennial love of wisdom yields a oneness’ fortune, extinct Eve-Adam’s kin.
I am in whenever I am out, seriously folks, follow me wherever I may go & I’ll lead you to Hehl
Where no holy soul freezes in the middle of empty black holes in Space, @AC/DC ring a bell?
Does it go inside one deaf ear & come out the other deaf ear, it’s knockin’ on heavenly doors
Back inside into an open, mortal soul morph into preconception mode at New Jersey shores.
Backroad bodies in synch with divine harmony, function of the equation, a shadow of intellect
Doing the dozens means nothing if you don’t do the dozens, therefore you are due the neglect
As above, so below your & my own parents contributed to this pull of pure dread to extinction
All gone Desire, an inevitable drive to annihilate this here & that there, swarm of God, my son!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Vendredi, April XXVIIIth, MMXXIII Anno Domini @ 444 PMPST
{ Internet Down, drafted inside of a black hole, internet severed my cosmic rays; would have played #BodyLikeABackroad by @ChrisStapleton }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
