#3 days until Jesus Christ was born 2,018 years ago... #LeapOfFaith #DreamBIG #BoogieWoogieChooChooTrain

SPANKY’S JOINT, ROLLIN’ MY DNA!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Saturday, December 22, 2018

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Young skin n’ bone strippers, pink Cadillac T-tops dropped, swingin’ chassis, I am, Adam.

Ones who never got the message, survival isn’t all there is, it is everything, cosmic stew

Everything in the hodge podge of dirt and rocks, the DNA moves and I laugh on a dime

Jokes and funny scat everywhere you look, the people, the animals, the space and time.

Peering through the peep holes in the fence, knowin’ it’s never time to get to the peon door

Nobody is allowed in until the final curtain draws to a close, awaiting an infinity’s corn pone

Back streets or the freeway exercise of the iron horse race, we roll on until the tires all blow

Rubber on the road, pedal to the metal and we’re flyin’ baby, what’s in back of us is way gone.

Cruisin’ in and out of the heavy traffic, on the shoulder and cuttin’ off the older ladies & kids

Old man gettin’ out in front of the crowd, shinin’ the crown above the monkeys wanna steal

Because they can’t figure out the sum of two plus two, it always mutates into high five bids

Visions and hallucinations of this substance, this #WhatItIs cannot be a mystery congealed.

Happy for a day and night, unhappy about the death of breath, world wobblin’ in smokin’ Fog

I am cruisin’ but runnin’ low on fuel, the rock and roll is about to cease, voided my gas’ tank

Still movin’ until the end of the perpetual locomotion in a pink Cadillac or 1500 cc @HD hog

Leather pants hooked up high n’ tight, hop on back my baby, we’re chitin’ on the blunt dank!

Fortunate daughters creatin’ the cheat-cheats for the baby boys, the sons of single fathers

Jumped on in the front seat, I got shotgun and you got the pedals so steer us to a promise

Who left that absurdity behind? Work a nine to five until you get to the other side’s ditz

Traffic in back of us, we dropped the pedal to the metal and we’re already in the olive pits.

Homegrown from the seed to the flower-tops, life grown and illegal to the weakest man’s sex

Higher than kites, blowin’ in cold or hot gas, revolutionary wobble my grandpa’s Fireman hex

Planet here in the middle of nowhere, space is black and dotted, obfuscated holy God’s dam

Young skin n’ bone strippers, pink Cadillacs rollin’ on DNA of swingin’ Pete, 7th son of Adam.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. FREEZEMBER 22, 2018 SATURDAY 12/22/2018 @ 11:11 AM PST

{ drafted while watchin’ #NationalLampoonsChristmasVacationMovie ‘89 link @https://youtu.be/cqggUo2kA3E & listenin’ to #TRAIN #WontYouSaveMeSanFrancisco & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/o4MKaH7d8OQ }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#RockMeMama #TruckerOutOfPhilly #OnTheWayToTheGoldenStateOfBeing @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

A PUNCH IN YOUR BLOODY MOUTH

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, December 20, 2018

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I always said that the only way to fly was to go with the blood flow, let us come, let’s all bawl

Around the bases for the scores, runs ahead and runs behind the hands tied at a sunrise mall

Foreclosure on the caves that shelter your full cups of love, lust and glory, salute living dead

Heads and feet and all two hundred cross bones, up and down, all on the way to be corn fed.

Somebody’s lunch or supper in the future, in the stars for the living to be eaten, hear ‘em jerk

If Evil doesn’t walk then it doesn’t have legs and if that’s the case, Evil don’t need homework

Being a thought away from actual reality and First cause of it’s natural being, cut jagged edge

For the first and last time, the spark turns into a million points of light and ignites tune-age.

Rubber blood runnin’ through the veins and fillin’ the head with elastic notions of phantasms

Things or not things but a natural presence, je ne sais quoi or whatever, it’s givin’ me spasms

Trying to stay within invisible lines of space itself, fait accompli, all too human, crazy mind

Walking, crawling, hopping, running and flying, human animals live and then quit the grind.

Twenty four hour days, seven day weeks, three hundred days a year, golden gods whisper

Winds cry Mary or whatever sounds like a girl or lady’s name, nobody plays a cry wolf pawn

Listenin’ to the medium with headphones attached and cupped over the ears, be the executor

Don’t need another man to kill you or even natural extinction to end it, you’re already gone.

Ignition from the star’s blown gasket, uncontained effulgence of blue stuff, third stone’s ilk

Cells of the unknown cosmic, black holes posing as white dwarves and Earth mother’s milk

On a date and all ready to reproduce the species maggots, up all night until the light of day

Girlfriend stood up and laid ‘em down and I knocked ‘em down like jello shots in a MaiTai.

I feel no pain and you will never know mine, you are the reason that the things are all gone

When you woke up from the dream you saw the one who was dreaming, One and overdone

Not me but another One, asleep for no good reason, an accident of form, king, queen or pawn

Cause of the First Cause is not even a thought, not an idea, nothing but air, old Betsy’s spawn.

Completely gone from the Alpha to the Omega of the galaxy, I struggle in liquid rock salt

Dreamin’ of the waves that bring in the wake, just because you think you’re not at fault

Doesn’t mean that there is no crack in the world, there is a big, black hole up a lazy river

Pain comes first and then the numb overruns the bones, shuts down, full of foo faux-fear.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. FREEZEMBER 20, 2018 A.D. @ 5:55 PM PST

{ drafted while jammin’ to Ramones #MerryChristmasIDontWannaFightTonight & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/4Y5GtaTrPHM }

#WhoIsMerry? Question is, #WhereIsMary? #MeTwo #MeOne1Too

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WHERE’S MARY NOW? AP-BITTEN*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, December 19, 2018

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When the never-never land allows #Facebook #Bing #Yahoo and BOOM, my world’s #bytes

Data in sequence to allow the nature of reality to bleed through holy cracks, itsy-bitsy dots

See outside and inside are One and the same things, life and death souls are also the same

You can get everything you need and all of what you want the moment you lose the flame.

Imaginary idiots becoming who you’ve always been and always will be, ALIVE at 0600 AM

Without a stitch of infection within the holy holes of the two hundred eight bones, body slam

Old days and old dudes are a whole lot different to this world than the elder wise female jeans

Back pockets, pocket books and pick pockets all on the bus together, ready for prison scenes.

I am in love, Zeus, an idiot, a moron and bloody god named Thor walk into a bar of hard rock

Why am I in love with the #SpiritusSanctus? There it is runnin’ my body and soul, that’s all

It is the fuel for the engine I call the transitory bones unburied so far, but on their way to hell

Underground, undersea, underarms, #UnderTheGun #ACDC Conscience of the Nation kilt.

Draped over the privacy of the species, the pletes and the creases hide the nature of the dead

High on the list of not being bitten, it is the first thing chopped and sprinkled on the #Mash

Old ladies all know the secrets of the porridge that they mix in their hearts, souls and head

Dope is not the answer although to be a dopey dwarf at the Yule Tide is OK with God’s bed.

In this void, you and I see the whole shebang clearly but we cannot accept that we’re All alone

We’re all there is, no UFO’s, nothing alive from another planet in this or other systems’ bones

Young or old you’re gonna die, like it or not, your life will metastasize into the death of cells

It is what it is, form, shape of the cells, the dot, the line, the angle, triangle and squared hell.

OK, you’re lost now, dedicate your life to staring at nothing, you’ll be where you’re going now

Stoned out of your mind and being the rock of Marconi’s listener-ship, the strong arm of Getty

Tells you in a hammerlock that you’d better obey the law or be punished by the #Law, crazy

Hard rocks and a Hard #Dump will annihilate the bio-metrics of a stooge’s bloody low blow.

It all comes out in the end, what you don’t know’ll hurt you, no warning instructions included

Hydrate, consume massive amounts of fiber to get the deadmeat, foul grain to exit a #Brexit

Final and over when the message gets all the way up to Mary’s jugulars, she’s #waygone dead

Luck’s everything, fortune or an alternative which is personal extinction is it, oh Mary, caput!

by

r j j stephan, i * { header is sister-meme hohoho..HAVE A HOLLY JOLLY CHRIST-MAS }

c. FREEZEMBER NINETEEN, TWENTY EIGHTEEN A.D. @ 6:66 AM PST

{ DRAFTED while listenin’ to the mighty drones called, Armstrong & Getty #ConscienceOfTheNation blab-noggins & listenin’ durin’ commercial breaks to WAR THE BAND on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/xtDkLI5GxwE }

ssssssssssssss@WARTheBandsssssssssssssssssss

 

W.W.A.R.D. ?

@FakeNews #FakeNews #PsychoPlaceboFoxsLockup @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

PSYCHO PLACEBO FOX’S LOCKUP

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, December 18, 2018

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I got your foxy locks right here you punk, baby gangsters on the block used to shout me down

Suddenly I rose to the top of the comedy troupe and became the next best thing to a frown

Dreaded fear of Nothing, being lost in the middle of space all alone, causing this here’s Time

To become a ‘Thing’ itself, a miracle of life in the Void’s darkness, a fait accompli, hard crime.

In the deep, blackness of the oceans and seas of the Terra Ferma unknown, a perpetual head

Of Nothing, deep within those bowels of the divine comedy of dreams, asleep always, forever

Way back when and sometime in the near future, you will be dead and gone, yea, I said Dead

Soul, spirit, consciousness, ego, id or the True Self, all is One and the same, whatever I said.

For the sake of the culture and the civilization of humanity, those who can’t will not, or else

But those who can must do the right thing at the critical moment of the pending doom bells

Ringing from sea to reflecting sea, pole to pole, the sound of music heard everywhere in hell

Where we want to go is to get away from those ear-ringing, unethical founts of pure muscle.

Function of the equation is the measurement of the volume and substance of the thing itself

Pick and pull what you want from the junkyard, put it all together just like a crew of 7 elves

Baby it is cold outside but I still want to get away from it all and dissolve into the matrices

Calibrated the notions, came to induced deductions that led to fallacious conclusion sizes.

Fox of the skulk exited due to being sick and tired of fighting, hunting, mating, being so sly

I wait for the hell’s bells to ring me back to the place I came from, my origin’s empty Hole

From inside an insidious vacuum of Suck and Blow, UFO rolled stones, dessert Nye county

#Skunkwerk of germans, italians, chinese and outerspace UFO crashes, secret ebb to flow.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. FREEZEMBER EIGHTEEN, 2018 AD

{ drafted while jammin’ on the Trans-Siberian Orchestra on youTube Christmas musical orchestration link @ https://youtu.be/MHioIlbnS_A }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#HAPPYFIFTYNINTH 12-17-1959 @DeborahStephan @DavidStephan #TheTwins

TELL ME IT ISN'T IMPOSSIBLE TO BE...

sssssssssThisShitAintWorkingsssssss

...THIS'S PHUQYN’ STUPID!  I GOTS A .44

by the G.O.A.T.

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, December 17, 2018

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Well...I am so sorry to say that I know the end of the statement, let me dot your eyes

You can cross your own tees or go out and play thirty-six holes to the end of the green

Backs all have invisible wings that only god knows that China wants to conquer Guys

There are no guys or gals in China, they will burn all of your history, go #CharlieSheen!

But you won’t, you allow cyber espionage from the Yellow man because you own Bank

There is only one group of people who’ve ever lived on Earth that is safe, The Dead Man

Hundreds of thousands of sets of bones, the animal and plant homegrown here and now

God’s six feet under or sunken in Davy Jones’ sea-yard, undersea fish, chicken and cow.

In charge of banning, the nature of the #Moderator, in charge, playin’ chess with what goes

Like the head of the gang back in the soul’s city where only dark angels do what God knows

Freedom between the poles from sea to shining sea, dead-star dirt becomes an atomic glow

Turning it all around, wobbling the things that go from gravity to graves and onto death row.

Alrighty now and then, you’re born on this day, December 17th, 351 days into the calendar ‘59

But both of you zygotic marvels, D & D were 4 pounds total, incubated twin beauty so, “Fine!”

That’s what our mama used to say when she knew that is was hopeless to change our minds

Story is, one of you was born and the Dr. exclaimed before suture, “There’s anuder in dere!”

Well, the rest is historical, in these days of the twenty first century, “That’s the way it goes!”

Either you get lucky or you don’t, being in the right place at the right time with a tool box

Everything anybody needs is available while above the ground, human beings are God lox

Even holy divine has to eat itself because that is all there is, everything’s love, Gold blows.

by

r j j stephan, i { all DEAD-ICATED TO: David Stephan & Deborah Stephan fraternally yours bro & sis! HAPPY BD #59 ! born in 1959, & #59 years old, #BadaBing #BadaBoom }

c. FREEZEMBER 17, 2018 A.D. @ 5:05 AM PST

{ drafted while unconstitutionally yours, listenin’ to morons, idiots and the genii that spawned them on youTube, Drake #GodsPlan #ImUpset & HITS link @ https://youtu.be/xpVfcZ0ZcFM?list=PL3-sRm8xAzY8eG8kh_gjoEaZ-auPlvp8r }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#ThisOnesForYouPops #MerryChristmas #JesusMaryAndJoseph #SayHighForMe #LipsTogetherAndBlow

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KUNG FU BLUFF, OLD DAZE NEWS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, December 16, 2018

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Trying to survive in rude, inevitable combat requires a steady, strong will to look for an exit

Woman needs the man, I didn’t create the genome, don’t blame me, it’s an observation, man

Think about where y’all would be without the dark womb nest of your mama, DNA donor fan

I’m among those that realize that The situation is hopeless and impossible to personally fix it.

I could never make a difference in the ethical functions of the DNA, I am only one data byte

Nothing and what I think I came from are similar to the dark womb nest of my mama, yo pop

You cannot make this state of the perception and sensational deposit of our historical blight

We have brought some form of mutant DNA to tabloid of the Alpha’s Omega RNA, hog slop.

Imperial impertinence is transitory, no leader or historical figure is allowed to exist beyond It

What It is won’t be so rude, it’s my fault that the Truth is y’all are random bytes of datum spit

Certainly, it’s necessary but insufficiently suspect to jump the validity of Truth, oh, I am bugs

Not that maybe, from the sky above to the burned out planetary, fake-ghetto hydrogen thugs.

Out of somewhere in the past times brought to the present, a teaching master’s golden lead

Becomes the iron fist of the dream that kills the germs which want to make all of us bleed

To the death we’ll fight to stay alive, eating the Earth’s growth from the thin air of a Vacuum

Once again, ad infinitum, it ain’t my fault either, neither of us are responsible, it’s DNA cum.

Done shot a messenger already? Obviously, I don’t have to flesh out the point, my rude Way

Crystal clear and without a shred of evidence, I am going to stay with my original ‘mama say’

Be a good man and don’t do anything to anyone you wouldn’t want done to you, know You!

Gold, Silver, Cash, flyin’ Bowery ghetto punks kiss all my bums dreams, “Hy-ah! Kung Fu!”

by

r j j stephan, i { *fitness, preying #BlackPanther eyes of the header above, you got it! Bite. }

c. FREEZEMBER SIXTEEN, TWENTY ONE EIGHT ANNO DOMINI @ 5:55 AM PST

{ DRAFT while listenin’ to the HITS of #CurtisMayfield #AintGotTime & HITS off of the #SweetExcorcist CD link @ https://youtu.be/n5huRfUgJhY }

 W.W.A.R.D.?