SURFIN’ WAVE, SIP ‘ROUND TRUTH
Cannot act my age {2}, deserted on Earth, negative ground surf of Chicago’s Oak Street beach
Nevertheless, my two bits of what I believe might shed black light in the apeman monkey ball
Coming from the ancient languages translated into my own, Indian ink and tree pulp of Word
I mean electronic disturbance of light on a program’s blank screen, a fake memory of a Lord.
Pretend you were just born and you have no idea what’s going on in the hospital and the flow
Either you have people who care about your infancy or you don’t, either way you live and die
Free will and free choice are the way we accommodate facts of life, out of our finite control
Pretend that you’ll live forever and nothing can stop you from doing anything, that is a lie!
We’re all gonna die someday, sooner or later, I don’t want to go, I have grief for the departed
Still, something more than a soul and consciousness I can’t see must be comin’, right she said
If not, if this is it, then THAT explains the nature of Life as it appears to my 5 senses, Z is A
On being, there’s the end of my days, philosophical ideas that keep me here, make me stay.
Existence of all animals and plants, of which I am a mere, minuscule campfire of holy 8 balls
Won’t allow the abortions nor the closure of orphanages or infanticide of fake sacrificial dolls
Pearls of wisdom flowing from the doctors and lawyers lips and the most unlikely to succeed
As the next POTUS dreams of being the One who will save the world from the poll tax bleed.
Historical knowledge in retrospect, the hunters and gatherers were both lucky and wise
For the DNA to flourish, successful survival skills were founded by accident or teachings
From whatever came down to this planet from up above or down below and left, in a UFO
Nothing else left other than stories and recollections of blind faith jumpers into a holy hole.
Nowhere else to go except back and forth from the places you’ve been to the places you’ll be
By air, earth or sea on the way from here to there, to see the day and night, in another scree
Cannot discern the mode of being once inside the deep state of the One Being, Earth’s crust
No hell or heaven, just here and now so enjoy the ride or wait for the ridiculous cosmic dust!
Faith you received from the firemen who couldn’t save our lady of the angels, hot as tropics
Back in the 1950’s they waxed the floor with combustible shine, looked good for the myopics
Or President or Mayor of the Second City, where I come from so I can say for whom bells toll
If it wasn’t for dumb luck with no safe place, wax fire melted, trigger-angels yelled, Let’s Roll!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. September 12th, 2019 A.D. @ 5:55 PM PST
{ drafted while listenin’ to Morganwallen #WhiskeyGlasses & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/FjBp30kjzTc }
W.W.A.R.D.?
