#WorksOfFire #FireWorks

‘71, THE YEAR I VACATED CHICAGO, ONE DECADE LEFT IN BAD SMELLS

4^th of the month July when the freedom began, cut off the crown from the tax on your head

Killed a bunch of the cousins who came after our gold & our children, subjects of the royal dead
Bent over in a night’s mares, in the middle of the daylight, got them knocked out of park’s field
Opened up my billfold and your purse strings came undone; I got thee & you got all gold seed.

Parking in the zone where nobody gets back out into the heavy traffic alive, I mean nobody at all
God to angelic demons created by the only one who could, the master of the minions we all fell
Down below where they remain to this day, the revolution is now & then when a move is schtick
Nobody can ever put this king in a Mate, impossible due to a failsafe method of stalemate kick.

I was a young boy & I turned into a middle-aged man now as old as the dead ones already gone
No comin’ back from all the smokin’ and drinkin’ I did like a devil may care, I ne’er slowed down
Still movin’ like there’s no tomorrow, there’s a bread line down the street, got my hobo baggage
Carried, kicked, exchanged the found for what’s lost in Space, comin’ back in, sweet baby’s age.

Hectic as the #Woke and the laid back as the #AlreadyGone, it’s the shebang in disarray parlay
Events of a Singular pinhole in the matrix of empty smoke, it’s almost gone now, what’d I say?
You received what you sent, returned the fire to the ice, it’s all in a great ball of fire, sunny Sun
Baking until it’s burned up and out of sight, swallowed in the Void, I’m the ghost of Father’s Son!

I’ve got something other than Time on my side, it’s angels alive now who used to be o’er here
But now their skin and bones are long gone, buried or burned in the hot fire of the blood’s beer
Frequency of the short & long funky wavelengths that go ultraviolet blue to scarlet, cocaine blue
As above, so below who said that before doesn’t rule the cosmos, say it loud, Above, so below!

Little bits of fun along the narrow way where you move on from origin to the terminal ends
Frozen stiff without heart beating blood-flow, makin’ The Moving out of a Hollywood tent
To see and understand whether you’re blind, far or near sighted that you’re in a gene pool
Of what used to be a solitary gamete & ovum, possibly twins or a trio’s trip three, survival.

Playin’ the game without knowing the rules of engagement is a fool’s errand I’m not into
Without all rules the game is unfair & a useless waste of time losing for certain, me too
Punks of gargantuan size, way over six feet taller than a midget-sized all too human kid
Magnify the invisible to expose Nothing clearly as a transparent piece of plastic bag-lid.

It’s all about what is inside that counts, when you die it doesn’t matter, y’all highwayman
Mission without a purpose, killed the ones who murdered my family, friend & countrymen
Pretending to be nourished by the reduction of pure air to breathe into the baby humans
Being in one incubator is good for a century, give or take, it’s you & it’s me, #FinsUp fans.

Fried, baked, cooked or raw, the fruit and vegetation of the plantation, we ate & smoked it
Until the Earth ceases to wobble and twirl in a counter-clockwise spin to the ecliptic orbit
Seven continents and millennia just Space & Time as usual, every occasion to tweet a link
Extinction ends a line, it drops a dime on your gait, squirt entrails of blood, bloody hot pink.

by

r j j  stephan, i

c.  July 4, 2023 Anno Domini @ 222 PMPST

{ Ripped this #CherryBomb off of my inner lining core of sacred, clear-light spirit to share with the naked bones of your skull and body, while jammin’ to 31 year old concert @JohnCougerMellencamp link @ https://youtu.be/68On9KZ9Ihc }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?

#FilteredDigestedProtein #ItLivesAmongstUs #SlowHAND #Cream

SEND IN THE TEXAS RANGERS 

Sequence of the events incorporated in the divine or mortal delusional illusion
Are in a linear fashion never going backward into the past, Time moves Reason
Looking at the wasted days and nights in the future of creating garbage on Earth
We either find out that a universe is infinite or uncover nothing occult post-birth.

Problems in paradise you may not know that you have, first train the babies well
If you don’t you’ll get a revolution to break down the civilized back to savage hell
Baking your face to your feet in the oven of hot sun baking you inside of thin skin
But also who said not only this but that and therefore, I am and exist in mortal sin.

Not my fault that I get paid to ring your bell, you’re the one who’s reading into it
Simply, I state unambiguously that I shall convolute you and your mother’s spit
It’s where the DNA is, they swabbed mine out of my cheek, it was mine, you ain’t
Now then, I think I know who the mighty father who your Madre of Zeus plunked.

In a test-tube, in a laboratory at the University of Funkdom called HOME, Ego & Id
Raised up out of the mud, blood & beer their ancestors left behind, called The Kid
As if living in this dream is more than that, yet it’s no more and it ain’t our fault
All we do is all we can do, live happy & die in peace, unknown rubber soul vault.

You & your immediate family are a minuscule slice of the whole human DNA pie
So were your own great, great, great grandparents who may not have had to die
Just because they & your parents’ parents’ parents were able to survive for a bits
Doesn’t guarantee you or I will be able to do it, Law is the Order of nekid ape-men.

Pumps full of gas & wells full of oil, ready to burn & change everything it fears
Now or little bit later matters a lot, it is a significant point so shed some tears
Pole to pole, an infinite spin & wobble rock this dirt, H2O leftover mud slingers
High above this planet’s stratosphere, men & some women have been ringers.

Species deteriorates at the rate of fatherless children increases, high society can’t
Make it better or worse, we never married society either the high or the low one
But by the guilt of association we all need to fix the problem so you can have fun
You think somebody owes you when nobody does, your last gasp leaked the Rant.

Idiots, numb skulls, morons, fools too, all the above & probably a secret gang-crew
The aforementioned have no capacity to comprehend the Truth about why we live
Why we die will never be thought of at all, take life for granted, color checked blue
Fears & brave ones who stare gods down will also eliminate threats for me & you!
by 

r j j stephan, i
c. Lundi, July IIIrd MMXXIII Anno Domini

{ Crafted in effigy of #Criminality & #CorporalPunishment, replaced by immediate execution by Poison Ivy Scratching & listenin’ to an Infinite Loop of #AlbertKing & #StevieRayVaughan LIVE link on youTube @ https://youtu.be/P7A12LuA8-U }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?

#SpyVsSpy & #LegalTNT @WARtheBand

P E R F E C T  27 OUTS IN a singular, BABY RUTH RUSE 

Emeralds, rubies, diamonds, sapphires & jade make the sharpest cut of stone junk

All the chafe of the Big Bang’s swag of trash to spread cosmos-wide, smell the funk
I have no sense of sniff and I can’t scratch the itch, it’s a momentous occasion of dank
It’s all the things themselves, essence of the forms & shapes of the Grinch’s old stank.

Come Hell or the high water of the flood when the H2O came raining down from Space
Nothing like it has ever been seen by anyone who said anything about it, saved the Face
Of the dreamer and the characters populating the dreamscape, between your ears of silk
Air disturbed by the nature of the atom eating beast of burden, your tribe & it’s elder ilk.

Born indentured in oxygen & hydrogen, huff & puff Mankind’s unsafe house of gods’ dots
Central matrix or out of it, makes no difference to the thing alive before your conceptions
Mating of the lovers and haters of one another’s mothers, sisters, aunts and lover’s plots
On & then before you know it, the jig’s up & it gets turned off by a Power’s queer robots.

Kool of the cool makin’ much ado out of this Nothingness and the beings incorporating it
Minds created out of reproduced genomes from hormones left over by wreckin’ 8-balls
Banking two or three cushions into the 1 through 15, red dot sets the angle of the dangle
On the white cue-ball, that red dot aim to the impact of the cue tip, secret of a right angle.

As the mind can picture something before it actualizes outside in reality, dream in color
Living inside of the dry dream is akin to living this here life as if it’s the only way, my way or
The highway’s connected land lock on seven seas is mental masturbation & an original sin
Beggars getting what they’ll lose in the end, it ain’t my business, we charge you for the fin.

You, me & all the other things that rule & run with the roost of roosters & hens of the order
Signals secret signs of fingers, hands, face winks or code sdrow-words' swords' shields higher
Brought your consciousness from an unconscious zygote to college-educated E-fuzz on Earth
I preferred to be highfalutin’ & important, recognition of my lowest priority, I’m afterbirth.

I will mention this now after 50 years past, that UFO in Montana at the strategic command
Was the new UFO from Boeing aircraft of the Time traveling as funk of the fourth dimension
As above & therefore it is the same here & now, down below the rest of my cosmic doom fan
Blowing the hot air and cool wind out of a twirling bunch of atomic swag from the Zeus man.

U-V violet blue & then all pink & black, infrared light breakin’ through hot air of ol’ Joe’s garage
So woke or asleep, the dream ends in a whimper you’ll get the chance to experience firsthand
All 8 of your fingers, 2 thumbs, 10 toes, all points of no return allowing a perfect game You’re out! WORD to @MLB, #TYVM, guess who’s smokin’ stogies in heaven with me?  Hot Dam, y'all!

 
Your fake nonsense is clear on the subject, you convolute predication causing linguistic uncertainty
High value for your ancestral ignorance & authority to advise on the importance of being free of me
To be or not, under the jurisdiction and jurisprudence of long-distance relations of a paradise, Eden
Divinely sentenced Fools, to forget & repeat it all ad infinitum with the Woods & Holly hood-reason.

Balls are based on strike zones of the pitchers’ junk, it’s a matter of seams and juiced-up baseball orbs
Every coach knows that the pitchers think that their mothers, fathers & previous coaches it all absorbs
Naked apes in uniforms, socks, caps & solid steel spikes, throwing, catching, hitting & missing in error
Isolated, integrated, all one & the same atomic origin and dissolution of animated life’s horror, terror.

by

r j j  stephan, i

c. Dimanche, July 2nd 1950 MCML Anno Domini @ 00:01 AMPST
{ Gem dripped in honor of my Ma & Pa’s wedding day, ANNIVERSARY July 2nd 1950, I WAS NOT conceived until November 27th 1950, thank the stars, I would have gotten killed in the @GreenBerets in Viet Nam in ’68-’69 no doubt! }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?