#WhereEyesComeFrom @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

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DON’T TURN ‘ROUND RIGHT NOW*
by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, August 11, 2018

Whether y’all are comedians or just a slew of disgruntled sons of beaches doing 24 hour days

Seven day weeks, thirty day months, three sixty five for eighty or ninety Godly soul, laser rays

Yes, you were born to rock and rule the universe or at least the path you tread upon this Dirt

Where you can pretend to be A creator, don’t turn around, you’re “All Too Human,” get hurt?

OK, let’s put it in an #ElectricCompany and #SesameStreet mentality that you’ll comprehend

A long, long time ago, you did not exist here and now, now you get it right? You’re zip, zilch

Even if you don’t follow me up here, come on with me to the ultimate conclusion’s dead end

Morons and idiots are both in charge and being directed by their own ilk, warlock and witch.

Are you with me or against me? I really don’t mind because either way, I win, you’re bereft

You’re not being forced to read this (Your mama is!) but that ain’t workin’ the Feds in beds

Want some MTV awards or the Commies or Oscars to show their RIGHT, on a far side’s Left

Yoyos goin’ up and down, on strings of the current ways of ‘ear-ringed’ committee airheads.

Bringin’ it all back around to the First Cause of the whole shebang, we can’t remember Birth

First things first, we all want to survive the assaults on our presence here and now on Earth

We know if there’s life then there’s death but try not to dwell on that wild-eyed, all the Time

Crack in Space, gotta laugh or you’ll cry, smile, this can’t be an accident, my God’s Sublime!

I took a stand right up there at the top of a hill where you can’t get much higher above ground

Mighty, qualified mice ‘n men, create a notion of an emotion to lead with a #FakeNews #hoor

Philosophical spunk allowing natural beasts to inject their pre-existence into utero quicksand

Here’s the pass, One’s foot in front of another One, my dead footprints out of the EXIT door!

Extravaganza concert of the most awesome Rock and Roll ever to grace the planet’s surface

In Time and Space, at a distant place that is all right there inside your head, behind your face

Inside the skull bone, under the cranium, stoked electrical charges move unmoved movers

You’ll learn to forget about me after I’ve been gone, #falling in Time grows on you phuqerz!

by

r j j stephan, i { *HEADER is a ‘self-portrait’ taken with Nothing to show for the Void! }

c. August 11, 2018 Saturday @ 7:77 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Linkin Park #WhatIveDone & HITS on a youTube link that I can’t wash away @ https://youtu.be/8sgycukafqQ }

W.W.A.R.D. ?? nothing.

#BlueBaldEagleCarrion @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

BLUE, BALD EAGLE CARRION

by

Richard Joseph Stephan

 

It isn’t worth a thin dime when you can’t sell it for a profit, ten times the first investment

If that’s the case then I’ll buy a million shares, what about you? File down rock sediment

I do not care one way or the other what you think about this or that, believe the nonsense

Appearances are all there are and the existence you see here and now precedes a presence.

In essence and for the record’s perpetual copy of the program, the DNA is the acid of God

Punched in the guts and lost the ability to breathe for a few moments....might have hit a rock

Impact with the hard place, my face and frontal #FullMonty are on the #Wanted poster block

A song to soothe the savage beast or kill a mockingbird, they see, they are legion, Aaron’s rod.

In the surgery I take flight for the world away from the OREGON border, ID, WA or the CA

Burned trees and dead animals everywhere, floating downstream to Stinky's’ won #Chitter

Chatter hasn’t a clue what to do or who to talk to, priests or gurus bow in front of rock-stones

Fire, water, air and rest are the four items willing to overwhelm a naked psyche, Dr. Bones.

I am not he, you are not she and we’ll let this all go by the wayside and forget about the ill

Not my business nor my concern to beat the bad guys up at every tomb and chamber of Ra

Up and down, sideways and backwards and I’m still in the same place I started Indi who-ha

Sabre-blinded by It and figuring how I can agree with the judges who judge, I can’t sit still!

Bourbon, whiskey, rye, gin, vodka and my kool-ade for the masses, ready to drink ‘til drunk

Amazing that I can still talk about it in a cogent fashion, regardless of my emotional intent

I hope that helps the analysis in some small way, a byte or two better than before is fine

Eras and periods of the ions means the infinite appears that way only to the finite stop sign.

by

r j j stephan, i { #IllPlayTheBluesForYou }

c. August 10, 2018 Friday @ 8:88 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Joe Bonamassa #IllPlayTheBluesForYou “LIVE” #fromTheGreekTheater on YouTube link @ https://youtu.be/qoX0Olfqziw }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#BackToTheWorldYouNeverKnew

CHICKS NOT CHICKS & SING SING

by Richard Joseph Stephan

Friday, August 10, 2018

You, YOYO man, do what you can but don’t worry it’ll be less than to complete the mission

Neither police nor military Space Agency can help nor empty suits that soar above the redsun

Behind the smoke of the burned redwood, cedar and birch of the #GoldenState, welfare falls

People from the world STOPPED flockin’ like dung flies to the demon welfare bees with balls.

Pink and empty of the contents, it’s all fresh and new to the one who just awoke in a daymare

Lookin’ around the matrix for the keys, locked into being the best at being down, it ain’t fair

In the wide open under that bright light of the daytime in the hemisphere’s wobbled ecliptics

Pine boxes or clay urns, fortune serves the masters, naught but Davy Jones’ perfect God’s fix.

Reportage of the guilty consciences that suddenly appear out of nowhere, from the culture

Training and schooling in the ways and means of obedience to the rules of the law in here

Within your 208 bones buddy and baby, you fly into my face and slam! You end it, all of it!

Comin’ to be happy and never worry but always prepared for the surprises in the super store.

You kill a man and you die unless you are a hero in a war, on a battlefield for freedom’s reign

Superwomen malfunction and become irresponsible, just like the supermen that they spawn

Spewing philosophical pablum to the babies with their mouths and eyes wide open, dreaming

As if your health and wealth mean anything at all on the Last Day you get in Man’s Sing Sing.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 10, 2018 Friday @ 9:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to #FutureShock & HITS by Curtis Mayfield on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/1X3-DqUve08 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#MrMisunderstood @EricChurch @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

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TRICKS n’ GAMES FOR #scatHEADS

by Richard Joseph Stephan·Thursday, August 9, 2018

You and I bury our heads deeper than the ostrich that’s almost extinct, don’t ask, don’t tell

But me, it’s just not something I can do once I find out the incredible that is occult protocol

I know that you think your body will die like the others you’ve seen come and go, just caput

That’s it then, the end of the days is the last blinks you get in your life, no more sign input.

Silence and sightless, a soul can’t drink or smoke it therefore it’s useless to the gods, Ala Ra

Seeing the sensory perception, comprehending the nature of the beast and this matrix Ga

Nothing left over when it’s end of days for me, I am not sorry but I am upset about the Lie

A fib that the priests and nuns told my mother’s father, they kicked him off the ship, ahoy.

Stuffed or starved, either way you’ll let your heart stop the beast within, total breakdown

Not just the nerves but the entire DNA complex from head to hormone, seeds are sewn sod

Dug a trench, deep in the ground to bury the roots in stardust, to suck the bytes of a clown

Goin’ into the #Outernet for the #Innerspace peace of your piece of mind, on loan from God.

You might have an aversion to thinking about the end of life philosophical analysis of sounds

Either you turn out to be the food of a carnivore or cannibal or you get your form sucked dry

Then, wrapped in a favorite outfit, while stiff and rotting, you’re buried under holy grounds

Prayers said to the #DeadAir and without any answers from anywhere, soul fire hits the sky!

Puns intended if there are any, they’re all in your mind, nobody’s colder and harder than I

No softer than the basalt rocks under volcano holes, where the lava spews into heaven’s sky

A song now, a line in a poem then, miracles one after the other to make the things all be high

Ideas blew over my shoulder, past my mind into the #666 atmospheric pressure of your Guy!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 9, 2018 Jeudi @ 2:22 PM PST

{ written while listenin’ to some @EricChurch #SmokeALittleSmoke & HITS/jamz on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/XxWjtWONuGc } 

W.W.A.R.D.?

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE FOREVER TIME (Episode 1)

W.W.A.R.D.?

HONEY AND LOLA MOVIN' #ricoSacto @ricoSacto #CominToGeeZiz

HONEY AND LOLA MOVIN’

by Richard Joseph Stephan·Wednesday, August 8, 2018

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To the beat and thump of an unknown smash from a man or beast or falling tear slander

It really doesn’t matter at all since the same flight will happen any day on yesterday’s fly

No difference between being born right now or just after a Big Bang or Silent Whimper

Parked between rocks and hard places until they get vaporized and make room for a spy.

Unnatural and unnerving if you keep your mind on it and focus on the thing that exists

Inside the mind or outside of it in the essence of the being’s bones, eat the monotheists

Then when they’re all gone, starting a fresh look at the situational ethics we love begins

Coming for the jugular vein of the keeper of the stuff we can’t know, bled on trash bins.

From hidden bushes to the rail road tracks, boys and some girls walk, in boots and sneakers

Looking for a place to be alone for a moment, to be alive and feel safe from God’s assaulters

Won’t leave any one alone, if you are awake and alive, you’ll be cased and swindled out of it

For a love of money and life, it’s all one and the same to a bad boys creed, don’t phuquit me.

Part time and full time wanted to pass the time, reverse the time and speed up time mood

Because in the dimensions without answers, ignorance remains blissful and kills the blood

Immediate attention to the volume of dead dirt left from the forest fire, worst in Cal history

Locked into Lola Myers and drunk on the green tea, whiskey and Honey Bancroft, I can’t see.

Takin’ a stand beneath the reddened sky and killing the hydrogen and oxygen of water vapor

In full view of the devastatting effect of letting a fire happen in the heat of the summertime

Singin’ and hummin’ tunes from the cotton pickin’ days of the master and the slave’s door

Honey in the comb and blastin’ the song that The Kinks sang about her, Lola dropped a dime.

by r j j stephan, i

c. August 8, 2018 Wednesday @ 2:22 AM PST

{ written while listenin’ to Zac Brown Band a live concert in #NapaValley 2013 on youTube with the #HeavenlyBodies link @ https://youtu.be/T721JwErNFY}

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

#PostPartemImpressionism #SavoyBrown #Satch & #SRV

 NOTE WELL:  "@SATCH SHRED OF COSMIC DANK, DARK, GOOEY, STICKY & POTENT "     {originally DRAFTED ON @Facebook & censored by the #FacebookNaziCensor & had to CHANGE the name for the politically correct #FACEBOOK to: 

#SHREDDED #CENSORS #WORDS

by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, August 7, 2018

If you knew what I know you would be ridiculous and I mean in a very good way, not too bad

It’s a matter of going back and forth to the watering hole and drinking lemon-lime Kool-Ade

Prior to the first F sharp and G flat merging into one and the same note’s sound of silent tone

You here, with me now? You’re a momentary planetary consciousness, an ego’s skin n’ bone.

No reward for being such a good boy and girl, a good woman and a meticulously perfect man

Your fortune is that you are here and now at all, in a universal ionic lapse of critical reason

Completely in the infrared zone below the absolute void, where the nugatory rules nothing

Mothers and fathers excreted the revolution, intelligence in the cyborg’s cemetery plotting.

Ready for the end of the days of your and my life when nobody will care about us any longer

Nobody will even wonder what you’re doin’ in the box underground, or in the ashes rained

From the clouds of heaven that never leave for outer space, always contained the #Graceland

Mind’s eye not in the middle of my head but in yours, in your will to power, in the quicksand.

You will die, I promise, it may not be before me but for certain, after me, quite gentlemanly

All you can do is cry, just like the old Savoy Brown jam, if it hits home, just love insanely

Never give up the feeling, even if there’s nobody else human around, grab a dog or hooker

Either way, get something alive in your arms to generate the verve or get to an undertaker.

Think about the sheriff and the law enforcement like it’s your dads and moms, all cousins

All the people go to school to learn the ABC’s and the morals of the culture, society’s norms

Violations are discouraged and depending on the infraction, punished for the severe sins

Doing ‘it’ to others, harm and death, stealing private property, fencin’ it to buyback worms.

It is urgent and it is a necessary condition for the reason and the rhyme, with or without you

It doesn’t matter whether you like it or not, the Truth is the Truth, there’s nothing you can do

Whether you’re a wise philosopher, a quiet clown or patriot fool, all of us live for God’s drool

Pink, blue, purple to ultraviolet hue in a discreet scent of bull scat at the bottom of a cesspool.

by

r j j stephan, i { #Shreds of Satch #ConscienceOfTheNation }

c. August 7, 2018 Tuesday @ 11:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to #TimeDoesTell by Savoy Brown & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/3dQ9H4XrhMs & Joe Satriani #AlwaysWithMeAlwaysWithYou & #HITS link @ https://youtu.be/VI57QHL6ge0 }

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

#FatherOfMine #FatherOfYours #AMotherphqrr

MOTHER’S FATHER OF US ALL

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Monday, August 6, 2018

No fear inside the head, nothing at all other than a wisp of sewer wind, flowin’ in me for fun

Popped up and dropped down into the deepest gully grooved into the crevasse, it’s a scheme

Not that you’d ever know if I didn’t mention it, your mama and papa didn’t say a thing, son

You thought you were a special thing, a thing itself, apart from your form of skin and bone.

Gold in the veins of the dead star’s essence, still moving the super cosmic filth ball around

In relative circles, nearly escaping the gravitational pull but then always returning to the hole

Where the star sun generates its essence and effulgence for the sustenance of your empty soul

Playin’ the games and the music until the end is near, then losing the laughter, giggle sound.

A hit or a miss every year, every summer, every fall, winter and spring but always feels good

Alternatives are unacceptable, for instance, disease, death, pain, suffering, nagging, no food

Therefore, logical and rational as I am, I choose to hunt and store food for the duration of me

When I die, no surprise, my jaw’ll gape open like everyone else, eyes wide open but can’t see.

Supreme love for the process of the evolution of Space and Time and the embedded heroes

Ones that nobody will ever forget because the legend is monumental compared to the blows

Everybody takes them, uppercuts, right crosses, jabs, punches in the ribs, kidneys and groin

On the way down for the count, knocked out but happy in the disease, God’s flippin’ a coin.

Programmed to stop and hold up the process at the fork in the road, nobody can ever go back

From Motown to a City of Angels, round back through Dallas, Baton Rouge, NYC and Chi-T

No 800 numbers to dial for help, no 411 on speed dial, just final blinks, a stain out of whack

Like you’ve done since a teenager, super-kid bloomed out of a puddle of mud by the wet sea.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 6, 2018 Monday @ 11:11 AM PST

{ written as I drifted into a PLETHORA OF CRISPY SMOKE in the California skies & listenin’ to Uncle Kracker on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/06WM8oLH87M & @Everclear #FatherOfMine #MyDaddyGaveMeAName #ThenHeWalkedAway on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/kkcbxjWG9Mc }

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

ALPHA-HOOD KNIVES & SUBOORDINATE SWORDS

ALPHA-HOOD KNIVES & SUBORDINATE SWORDS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, August 5, 2018

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Who in the heaven and hell do you think you are, monkey-man? You are hot dust

Nothing more than the remnants of a burned-out, holy host of the powerless rust

No imagination beyond the storage of images within the convoluted immateriality

Our mothers do this to us, all of the mothers on Earth do this to their love deity.

I’m not the one who’s been doubting everything to do with propositional, formal logic

I have recovered my faith in something immaterial, godlike in it’s informal rhetoric

A punk runs this whole show, there’s no doubt about anything at all, the soul soars

Beyond the boundaries of the planets’ revolutionary malfunction, goddess’ of #Oars.

Keep in mind or keep in the body, it’s all one and the same, we gotta keep ‘em separated

For the sake of the great, great grandfathers and grandmothers who surprisingly mated

With the studs who won the battles and wars of adolescence and kept it on the QT, salutes

A savior was nothing but a man who honored the swords and knives turned into the flutes.

Your opinion has no bearing on whether or not I’m right or wrong regarding my high horse

I do ride deep in the saddle with my booted spurs in the stirrups, a galloping, trotting force

If I succeed at persuading nobody but my friends and countrymen of which I have a million

I shall have become the first and only person in my family of immigrants to cancel the Sin.

Original One and an #OriginalSin of #Pride and #Disobedience to your daddy, your maker

Creator of heaven Earth gets perturbed and mixes up the Mother’s chilly air and dirty water

Yesterday’s troubles, tomorrow’s recollections of The Way, a path with a disturbing dilemma

Sun shines, then one foot in front of the other until The Boss’ epic finale, embed it, phuqnA!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 5, 2018 Sunday, August 5, Two-Thousand-Eighteen

{ WRITTEN WHILE LISTENIN’ to Papa Roach on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Hm7vnOC4hoY & #ASL video to pop songs of the last SEVERAL years on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/_Sc4mxQE8Y8 & #BigSmo #MyNeighbors link @ https://youtu.be/DbfOXrQ0N84 }

#WWARD ?

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...& with the genie stuck inside the whiskey bottle, the demon asked, "W.W.A.R.D.?"