#StartMeUp @RollingStones Concert 2024 . . . BUT, YOU CANT HANDLE THE TRUTH, EH?

FLY BY YOUR BLOODY BUCKET SEAT

Playing ball on the diamond or the gridiron or the court are options for winning and losing

Games without players are no games at all, objects are the subjects and vice versa, bling

He and she are involved in the species extinction or survival, it’s out of all too human asps

Into the divine glory of empty vacuum Space, all around us since day 1 unto the last gasps.

Deport you and I even if we never were imported, your parents were clones from a rat sting

Immigrate in or out of petri dishes on Earth, seven continents, two poles, islands appearing

As evaporation enhances the rock, mountains and valleys are holders of Life H2O to die for

Being supreme or mortally deficient in everlasting life, neither justify a DNA/RNA exit door.

Myopic displays keep you within your blind eyes’ images on distorted stages, doom looms

Cannot fly in the sky or out of the atmospheric pressure, iron strong and steel forged blows

Bare fisted knuckles all there is and all there ever was, the way to survive in a hostile locale

Doors blow down, would have opened with the combination or the key, just like the Booms.

It moves and you move too, it dies and you die too, 208 bones & city-honed mind of a punk

Hardball or softball, golf to a football shape, whatever flies or bounces air into the air spunk

Driven around the track counterclockwise only, no right turns, they’re always the wrong way

Race ain’t all over, the checkered flag signals Win, Lose or Draw, ‘til tomorrow is yesterday.

You saw it all very clearly before being blinded by the light, an academic challenge to die for

Light goes black, purple haze cloud cover over everything here and now, no Exit out a door

Through the bathroom window you go, climb up & hop into the commode’s, unflushed scat

Neat and clean, showered up, soap free and clear, cadaver stiff upper lips, it’s where it’s at.

There’s a price for priceless objects and subjects predicated by the words’ Ceaser salads

Jump into the bay of no return, you will drown on the day you can’t return to a Jersey shore

Float in cold water for hours and get hypothermia, you can do it in a New York minute too

Reasoning with a moron or an idiot is impossible but if you try, the whole world turns blue.

Nobody ever makes it out of life alive, nobody on Earth has ever lived after death, it’s a myth

You know it, I know it, the blind faith believers know it, God knows it, Jesus went deep death

Include heart beating, blood flowing, lung breathing, bones moving, all decrepit, well done

I’ve gone fishing for the last time, no reports on missing a big One, mankind is the holy One.

Woke up all woke and was awakened by the bell, a gong and a dong, rebooting my attention

Arrested on the visitor or intruder to assimilate all pending reactions to original & mortal sin

Repaying the creator for the disobedience to the commands and theorems, soul-hot on fire

Until the wounds to perfection have healed, scabbed and scarred, I’ll walk the higher wire.

by

r j j  stephan, i

c.  Lundi, Cinque De Mayo, MMXXV Anno Domini 11:11 AMPST

{ Drafted as I bled blood of Mind into the Word of Man, while jammin’ to @TowerOfPower link @ https://youtu.be/PFdr_p7I6PY?si=NpqFWh2bgALNqElV }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?

LaFlaca @GovtMule & Xfactors

FOR THE 4th FOUR FAUX FIXX

LA FLACA A LA CARTE
Nothing but the best things on planet Earth are in store for the guilty innocents
Under and over duress of the planted drops of molecular structures of Charms
Inside of the nucleus of the atom, you see microorganisms alive, just like all life
Bringing the rhythm and rhyme to the beats you have ringing in your holy head.

Without historical record, we’d not ever know that we’re all gonna die of things
Something tells the child at the age of reason that life is an aberration of O-rings
Keeping all of your spunk and spirit at bay whether you like it or not, it’s all good
To survive is better than the alternative, we’ve his blind faith tenet, it ain’t rude.

All sensation is for the ultimate goal of feeling the light, the water of love pools
All men and women who travel to and fro in near Outerspace, orbit God’s rules
Matter and energy collide to gravitationally collapse white dwarves’ souls’ foals
On the cuff, Nobody’s morality, good, bad & the ugly that leave the stage’s holes.

Occult spells, unintelligible gibberish ad infinitum, ala illiterate intelligence IDs
Monotheistically polytheistic are conjectures of fearful & unintentional thieves
Sordid stories created from sacred and profane recollections, all in the i-phones
Of the mites on mice and bacteria inside the all too human skulls & crossbones.

Inappropriate as above is with the absence of atomic substance, so below is too
Consider your memory of life as you knew it before your conception and rebirth
Into the men and women, you look into the mirror at today, love of dirt’s a must
Maybe it is what it is for a reason and maybe it’s just a random collision of dust.

Busted a crew of 99 out of the prisoners’ quarters hidden behind two ears’ crud
Now the hundreds move & animate the dead things of a cartoon, as we know it
Bums and humans who got junk in their veins rule the roost of the dead at night
While you’re asleep in bed, warm & cozy, others are devoid of the pretend right.

Juice bars around every corner, hooks ready to embed into silver & golden geese
Eggs to nest away until the Time is ripe for the birth of justice, bad guys to fleece
Taking it all & take no prisoners, the war mantra of Grant & Lee, take the gen-xrz
All of the war mongers were peaceful babies of innocent mothers’ half-brothers.

Games with rules I’ve generated out of thin air, all get won or lost by the stooges
Just the ones you need to pull wool over their eyes, lovers who all eat dead matter
To be or not to be alive, either eat, drink & be merry or you don’t, all of my ruses
Hot as a pistol after firing 6 shots, 5 finger-melted lead, I’m the mad, mad hatter.

Morons teaching idiosyncratic idiots their ABC’s & 1,2,3’s for the Id’s super Ego
Mentally challenged to leave it all alone to its druthers & watch the show finale
Grim as a holy reaper is, sometimes happy to see the day come in the night end
Stepmothers embedded in the petri dish of critters, movin’ atoms into oblivion.

Evermore, the recently extinct dodo birds made a come-back in the RNA gen-z labs
Now, as we’ve assimilated extinction and survival together to yield, good & evil dabs
Dominance over our subordinated will to power is critical to gaining GA’s Deva dip
Without control, chaos will dominate until the final singularity squeak, a tiny peep.

Souls of the crows and the men who watched and listened to the signals and marks
On the ground & in the air, radicals took my hand, ground my soul in the water parks
More or less, there’s an answer for all questions, even if the answer’s incorrect or old
In or out of the stores, pay for the wares all in one place at the same time, stone cold.

Spun records, ran tapes reel-to-reel, cart & cassette, DJ extraordinaire in my mind
Out of the studio, a regular guy that can’t see anybody’s face in the mirror, it’s a sign
That y'all ain’t either here or there, nowhere on Earth now or then once you’ve died
Hell or heaven can wait, Time is relative & without Earth’s spin, there is none, I lied.

 

by
r j j stephan, i

c.  Dimanche, May 4^th MMXXV Anno Domini @ 1111 AMPST

{ Drafted Sunday AM at 1111 AM finish time, while listenin’ to @AllmanBrothers @WarrenHaynes #LoadedDice link @ https://youtu.be/OIz1t3Sufwg?si=2SCtVlAo4ebMr7Gf }

F I N I S

W.W.A.R.D.?

@WarrenHaynes #KissTheSky @JamesMarshallHendrix @GovtMule #GodAintGoodGodsABadAss #NorthernLightsRockinAlaska

It’s No TOP Secret

Washington to Florida like California to Maine, it’s a killing within & illusion without doubt
Stole Mother Earth’s virginity without permission, I was walkin’ in my sleep, twist & shout
Out your gaping lips is where all noise begins, linguistic mood swings for all the freaks kids
Brains out of the skulls, using conceptual analysis to clarify or deceive the carotids’ obits.

Being conceived in the innocent infant’s modicum of a mind is like a night light starshine

Minks or leathers to cover the naked apes’ bare skins, until aliens left us all with polyester
For stockings, a myriad of draping both tailored and without style, much fired-up terr-pine
Up in the smoke, where the angels nobody ever sees in the flesh, it’s where they all go, sir.

Follow your inner inkling of what to do and when to do it, now and then yet never too late
It takes experience to succeed at the art of casting aspersions without being yo’ faux fate
Your mind won’t survive death; memories will vanish like dust in the wind, peace my dove
Earth spinning around counter-clockwise, you imagine looking at the planet from above.

Speak easily at once, now that you’ve swung for the fences & connected 50 times, yo Ruth
It was not my fault that the ball hit the fat part of my club, it was like a magnet of 4 baggers
No exchange to any other bat unless I switch due to a cracked club, screwball hit the Truth
Park a car in Harvard Yard but a Master’s & PhD may be in jeopardy, nothin’ ever matters.

We’ve got history even if you’ve never seen me, nor I you, we’re from the DNA of the parents
Deluded as usual, it will make it all worthwhile, no more disappointments after being dense
Completed the exam’s final with a perfect score, all trigonometry & calculus solved for an A
I know, you know, we all know that restless leg syndrome means, killing being at rest today.

Gravitationally collapsing Earth disappears as y’all recede from its surface, ala infinity meat
Simple Simon was all too complex for a pie man who packed a .44 caliber’ maker of peace
Fortunate son to inherit the empire of Weed Flower, free high far out above the cloud fleece
Mankind ain’t waitin’ for me to tumble off of a roof, I’ll just leap off a high, upper deck seat.

In one way or another, by the end of the life you’ve been fortunate to have consumed, death
Comes while you’re alive & you revere the loss of all spirits, granite stone snorted with Meth
Cross of a savior wasn’t enough for a wake-up call, neither Bodhi Sativa nor I got godspeed
Way too high for the wonder to become normal, brain black-out due to overload’s done deed.

Dirty cheap on the price as it was & will always be forever, is now infinitely expensive ore
Timeless measurement, a duration of consciousness, soul animation within inner Space
Between the outer atmosphere and the middle of the core of the planet, a Divinity’s face
Obtuse yet congruent to a pyramidal 45-degree, acute corner within, 135-degree encore.

Straight number line, negative to the left, positive to the right, That is the Way It Is, man
ROKU or cosmic satellite orbiting counterclockwise about the Rock, wet mud revolution
I know what you know and all of the dead know what the ones who haven’t lived yet know
Not a thing, nothing but the sounds and references to facts that have been posited by Sin.

In the schism you’ve surfed a wave too high for a human to ascend, dicks in the dirt to sing
Straight on down, surfboard flew away from my feet & ankle chain flopping like a tiny spring
Braking at the stop signs, burning rubber at the green lights, a lawless manifestation in sin
Following rules, obeying laws & regulating personal behavior, species extinction, it is done.

A place and a time in or out of your and my mind, as a dream within, it’s one without it all
Unreal reality ready to become annihilated without notice, accidentally or fully intentional
Mark of the beast is where “X” marks the spot, no signature in cursive or fancy crypto-script
Code blue S.O.S. is a final gasp of aspiration, panic and shock and awe, I say, ahoy my ship.

Bright as the dull grey paint on a battleship hull, both fore and aft, it’s the ship of torpedo
Beneficial to be in the right place at the right time, in case you get lucky, downlow ghetto
As above, so below for the needs & desires that cause the sad to become happy apeman
Preconception you ain’t a spirit or a ghost, just a passing method to the madness slogan.

Sundowner ain’t a syndrome, it’s the way things are, the way I recall them, no more, no mas
Stop now before it’s too late, it may already be too far gone, time will tell us future or PASS
Ending may not be happy, may be a sequel to the parody of the things as we know them all
Cause of you & the music, father sky & mother earth, rhythm to rhyme Adam’s Eve ill-fall!

 

b y
r j j stephan, i

c.  Jeudi, May 1^st MMXXV Anno Domini @ 111 PMPST

{ Drafted in two days due to the #Muse striking for more Time-Off, also while listenin’ to @ACDC #WholeLottaRosie link @ https://youtu.be/bAOwDZoWXRI?si=BWQUOAGAVjIOJXg5 }

F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?

PICASSO