END ONE ORIGIN OF REVOLUTION
As the universe is, the world we live in spins in circles, as it was intended after the Big Bangs
Many and the One in conflict with the gravitational collapse and the myriad of quarks’ things
Blocks invisible and indivisible as the Void’s nature allows, absolute emptiness in the middle
Where angels not only fear to go but are not welcome, no where to use winged, airless flight.
Space is empty and needs no wings to move from point to point in the matrix of cosmic slop
Mess of atomic and subatomic macro-media that moves in conjunction with Earth’s #TopCop
A man behind the curtains of Oz, runs the show as if nobody cared because nobody gives a F
About doin’ the right thing for everybody else, the concern is for survival of the One, the Self.
Without an agenda other than, breathing, eating, shatting and sleeping, only procreation’s It
Sons and daughters of the mothers and fathers, the DNA of the solar system’s funk, godsends
Amazing that you got here at all in infant form and outstanding that you now use it, depends
On light in the doom’s darkness to the blaze of special relativity theory, atomic excitement fit.
Mink coats of the critters who crawl and scurry through the humanity of garbage dumps’ ilk
Food fight for bugs and worms that fulfill the evolutionary dream of yin and yang’s cow milk
You get it and survive or you become the food for the critters who survive and recycle punks
From your beautiful and handsome skin and bone and personality to the hole in buried Funk.
Name the babies, girl and boy, let them grow and eat their way to the end of days, corpus Di
Agape eating holes, relaxed muscles of the defecate holes of great men and women of society
Bring the hate mongers with the lovers of the Word together in one party, on the Titanic fly
Down yonder from the middle of nowhere, here, now you are, congratulations to it, my scree.
Utters of the cows give us milk that our own mothers refused to give, humanity’s formula tea
Minerals and vitamins for growth of the form from a pound to two or three times more, I see
Blinded by the bright lights that come out of nowhere once the birth right’s been dealt thrice
A recollection of The Thing itself, immortally mortal, living dead, GODS trump bad advice!
by
r j j stephan, i { *Header’s my cousine Nadine Stephan, MODEL extraordinaire X #POND }
c. Lundi, Janvier 27th, 2020 A.D. @ 2:22 AM PST
{ Drafted while listenin’ to the Grateful Yank I mean, the #GratefulDead #TheDead @ theDEADstore full of Great moments in Libtard History, here’s a link, I report, you can’t decide WAR THE BAND #AllDayMusic & #HITS can @ https://youtu.be/coHUt4si8Oo }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?
