#HolyChasm #MindMatterAndYourMama #DrHook @DrHook #DoinNineToFive

CHASM IN ONE’S SCHIZOID MINDS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, January 5, 2019

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Enough is enough and too much is too much, not enough and who gives a flyin’ hoot, man

Who is obtuse other than all of the others, the ones who you are not and never will be, One

Not because it is their personal desire or will to be the way they are, the human being fun

Just because you think you’re so pretty with that empty drink, blockin’ the #FakeNews, son.

Dreaming when you’re in a deep sleep, about how it’s going to be, in a long or a little while

You never know what tonight or tomorrow might bring in front of your consciousness’ pile

Baggage carried whether you like it or not, it’s a robotic program from childhood, orphaned

Mothers and fathers of us all die and get burned or buried, some sink to a bottomless Mind.

Hay is for horses, my mama used to say when I’d yell, “Hey, mom!” Flashback a baseball hit

I needed my uniform but I forgot to put it in the hamper, so it was green grass, stained sweat

Became The Way to practice, pedalin’ rubber side down on a two-wheeled, red Schwinn bike

Streamers streamin’ the flow of sense and nonsense to conflagrate the the rockin’ roll psyche.

Perfectly in tune with the notion of motion in the ocean, first moving H2O and C6H12O2 #Ra

Into a hodge podge of menu-do from cal-zone and minestrone leftovers, oh #PeggySue DA

Sung loud and clear from the Halls of Montezuma to the Shores of Tripoli, evil Adam’s spin

Wars historical, battles on rock gardens of queens and kings, the rapin’ rascals’ of Eve’s skin.

Your soul and my heart misbehaving into the emptiness of sweet, golden bee’s honey of love

Beatin’ knees and wings from dusk until dawn, comin’ into the sweetness as above, so below

She may be happy or she may be hungry but when she’s ready for the battle of chess to win

Fun and game no more, time and space are to use or lose, punks heads-up, get into the flow.

by

r j j stephan, i { “[T]he only way to find peace and contentment is to stop thinking about yourself.” - #MichaelASinger }

c. Saturday, January 5th, 2019 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Dr.hook Doctorhookah #WhenYoureInLoveWithABeautifulWoman & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/bD0CSd6BM6w & #FooledAroundAndFellInLove by Elvin Bishop link @ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nvglqc3QYq8 }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#Trippin @Trippin & just trippin'...

BLACK PEARLS IN WHITE TRASH

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, January 4, 2019

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Come back to the beginning where you always intended to be, here and there, now then

Inferior or superior all mixed up either way, not the whole thing, just a piece of the skin

Points in the argument or on top of the head, you are a moron, you are an idiot, we are one

It is done, everything will all become the same as it was before the beginning, Divine fun.

But if and only if you can see in the darkness where nothing but you resides, holy soul dead

Peeking in holes to see the real things, as they are, coming to the end of the goddess’ dread

Flight of the birds whose wings are clipped by their karma, what they did before this dream

It must be paid, the debt I mean, either yours, mine or both, maybe all of ours, it’s an A-team.

Punks of spunk young men left abandoned on the bathroom shower stalls’ floors, wet dreams

Uncomfortable and annoying from the first to the last day of the cough, the sneeze, the gags

Sudden impact with a miracle and an accident, collision keeps you in tune, dead, heavy metal

Soft head on soft rock and roll dreams, #FakeNews, #Tragedy, all on a roll, amen, skedaddle.

Punks before and after grade-school training for a high school or university diploma/degree

Wisdom will not sink into the genome and will be forgotten under the dirt, burned by starfire

One day before the Earth caught it’s orbit to wobble to, I was there and I’m still here now, see

Those black pearls rolled and the white trash rocked the iron horse I rode in on, I am for hire!

Infants grown into children and on to adulthood, where each man is responsible for all of it

We all come from Original genome DNA and we’re the ones who live and die on an axis’ chit

Responsible and obligated to the #FactsOfLife as they’ve been handed down from emptiness

Factoids noted, lickety splitly I move in tandem with my spirit, on the freeway with The One.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday January 4th, 2019 AD

{ drafted & crafted while listenin’ to Aretha Franklin #FreewayOfLove & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Ip_pjb5_fgA }

 

 W.W.A.R.D.?

#ThirdOfTheFirstOfTwoZeroNineteenAD

GIVE A RAT’S BEHIND, STICK IT!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, January 3, 2019

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Livin’ in a van down by the river on a Thursday at 7:11 AM, fully armed before the cock crows

Motivation to be satisfied with the fact that you pay for the things you consume, by working

Labor of blood, sweat and tears of your forefathers, absentee fathers and mothers of mating

Deep thought is not required in your repertoire, wear your baseball hat backwards, albinos!

Now, get past the hot tip above and you’ve still got holes in your Dumbo ear lobes’ holy skin

Cauterize the wounds of the saviors who rise above the loudest mouths, stars, stripes, gunnin’

The most toys in possession of the degenerate genome which is the fission and fusion of Mum

You know the girls that raised us become what we are, holy garbage in garbage out, ho hum!

Now then, all educated with the logic and reason, the high metaphysics of wisdom, hear that?

Keepin’ whose hands off of my property, my right to possess and bear, a revolution to begin

Shell shock and battle fatigue come in handy when you’re at war, operational exhaustion sin

A little thing called #PTSD ,a post traumatic stress disorder, a Vietnam GI love of country scat.

Landfill of the garbage inside and outside of your heart and soul, become your preconception

Prior to mothers’ pregnancies, religion from East to the West, concealed divinity in clear skin

Soul and mind, spirit of the condition of being, moving, animated DNA out of nowhere above

As below, maybe an illusion or dream within a Poe dream, guest appearance, die white dove!

Pass away from death do I part, I shall expire, life throttled me by the throat, I choked a byte

I swear I shall overcome the impossibly illogical tendency to survive when death is inevitable

Narcistically speaking, without me here and now, I don’t care what happens to a world’s balls

Start at origins of ignorance, collect a compendium of fear’s mythology, now you know It all.

Revolution against the Big Brother that nobody knows even exists at all, that is God’s Truth

Ten or seventeen Rights on the written word of humanity, the pretenders awake, we all alone

Inside or outside of seven continents above the saltwater of the fish in the sea, I am uncouth

Uncivilized and enculturated with being a skeptic of the patronized eyes of rods and cones.

by

r j j stephan, i #MolonLabe Moxy Molonlabe

c. Thursday January 3, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ drafted while improving my self-esteem in tune to the inspirational #GeorgeCarlin standup on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/h6wOt2iXdc4 }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhatWouldAynRandDo #WWARD #LoveMyBaby #ImHerLittleLoverBoy #Happy2019Yall

20/20 DIRIGIBLE’S HINDSIGHT

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, January 2, 2019

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Forks in the road is where we come to in the end, comedy or tragedy, One returns back home

Not to the town or the country, the city or the territory but to the Origin of our soul genome

In or on the land and sea or in stealth mode through the ether’s gas bubble of air, deep Hole

Inside our outside of it is everything else other than you and I, It is in Jersey, in #Freehold.

Compared to the #ACME, your grocery and department store pale in comparison, oh #Deli

I smell salami and ham sliced to perfection, fresh bread out the oven, over river from #Philli

Utter distraction with parables and recollections of a young child’s mind, to be alone, skipper

Now that I’m all over it and done with altar boys from Valhalla, I’m just Hades’ philosopher.

It can and must be 2019 A.D. since everything is the same as it was yesterday, trouble is hers

That to be or not to be is NOT just a question out of a hundred, it’s the only one that matters

If the essence of wisdom is to know the nature of being and to act, move with direct intention

Then I consumed that essence the moment my mother decided to NOT abort my zygotic sin.

Performing in my own act on my own stage for the seven decades, I cry to return ignorance

To the creator of the Void, the creator of your momentary experience of Earth independence

In the funk of your recollection, categories of the form and matter of atomic neutrino quarks

Coming, going, sinking, swimming in Cosmic stew goddess and full of #Dead’s ripple sparks.

Punks from the inner cities broken homes, fatherless children’s skin and bones animate dust

From simple minds, repetition bred the followers, dependents of the welfare state’s disgust

You and I will discover the Truth in the end, bitter or welcome, it’s going to come to hide out

In shoes, boots, sandals or moccasins, row your boat, dreaming now? My intent, #NoDoubt !

There is no question that you and I speak to a hard piece of metal that replaces wasted faces

Ones you used to speak with and look at, now it’s a flat-screen or just sounds from no places

For the sake of the ancestors, recollect the reason why you’re here, #FullMonty accidentally

Get ready for the emptiness and force of gravity to take your bones down, burn, #dillyDilly!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi 2 janvier 2019 après J. -C. 9 h 11, heure normale du Pacifique (HNP)

{ drafted while kickin’ through a bog of fueled intensity that you’ll never know & listenin’ to #BigSmo & Upchurch 2019 link @ https://youtu.be/nzDTFYwV7MY }

W.W.A.R.D. ?

@TheTemptations #Papa Was A Rolling Stone 1972 Single Version

#POLICE & @HomelessWhiteKnights !

by Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, January 1, 2019

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It is the time and the place in space to put the pedal to the metal, hammer down Mex-Texas

Or Iowa or Ohio, it redux of the rerun for the minions’ predilection for the Perfect, infectious

Bringin’ home the bacon to get the home-made enchiladas in foil, cat food and a kill instinct

Empty, bombed-out structures that used-to-be hospitals, schools and churches now extinct.

Magnetic waves, infrared and cosmic stellar amusement and the trouble is you’re a pawn

On and off of the thirty-two squares of the playin’ surface of the black and the white Dawn

From the monkey man mind without a care other than food, shelter and protection of God

In the emptiness of the darkness a deal is struck with the devil inside you and me, full blood.

Down to me, down to you and down to the smoke that rises from the burning, funeral pyre

Pumped up and jammed down into the ash from which it all comes, stardust, fool for hire

I don’t care that you don’t care, yet you read on hopin’ for the catch of the day, rollin’ a rock

Funeral and burial, incineration for all two hundred eight bones, all under my thumb, phoQ!

Don’t trip just because you are more holy than I am, I was a Catholic altar-boy, 13 years, a lad

Then the Force educated me on the actual #reality behind Ma and Pa and a military bunk bed

Pink sometimes but mostly lonely and blue, just in time to listen to boogaloo, midnight’s spec

Gambler and pawn shop, dealer of the cash to burn, bet you’re right when you’re a bluff, dick!

Ramblin’ with the spirits and souls, around in circles from lucky day to sad, good day in hehl

Wind blows four or more ways, depending on the trajectory of the matter in the space, I fall

Shroomy Cow and Alice’s #Vunderland hole, I and you in gravity collapse, we’re singularity

Rambling around the block in a Hearse or a Rolls or a Volkswagen in or out of this reality.

After the last breath you gasp for, right after that moment right there, that there, this here

All of it means little or nothing, I should have been, I would have been, I could have been

Features of the creatures that look like forms made of shapes of plastic, pig iron and steel

Compared to this thing itself you see, alternative reality has nothing to do with human zeal!

Downhearted and drained of the tiny bit or two of microscopic particles, angry atoms I am

Changed now and I am in total control with the will of the One at the helm, Lord helped me

Which Lord you wonder? For you my friend, to find out and I’ve got no say in the guy’s scam

Just remember, it’s a choice, your choice, you can be wise or foolish, a heavenly body #Slam!

Lonely and finished with the wonder of the surviving with the fittest amongst us, we survived

We never became the food of the carnivores, the bone-yards have our remains, our soul freed

From desire and need of the breaths you and I are takin’ right now, in and out, borrowed Time

It’s almost out the moment it becomes conscious of itself, a matter, a force of cosmic slime.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. 1-1-2019 Mardi @ 7h11 Hors de contrôle

{ drafted while #CatchinAWave to The Rolling Stones #OutOfControl & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/MHlxGg0QIqE }

W.W.A.R.D.?

@RonnieWood @JonnyLang @BuddyGuy #PlayAllNightLong with #Friends

#POLICE & @HomelessWhiteKnights !

by 

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, January 1, 2019  

********************

It is the time and the place in space to put the pedal to the metal, hammer down Mex-Texas

Or Iowa or Ohio, it redux of the rerun for the minions’ predilection for the Perfect, infectious

Bringin’ home the bacon to get the home-made enchiladas in foil, cat food and a kill instinct

Empty, bombed-out structures that used-to-be hospitals, schools and churches now extinct.

Magnetic waves, infrared and cosmic stellar amusement and the trouble is you’re a pawn

On and off of the thirty-two squares of the playin’ surface of the black and the white Dawn

From the monkey man mind without a care other than food, shelter and protection of God

In the emptiness of the darkness a deal is struck with the devil inside you and me, full blood.

Down to me, down to you and down to the smoke that rises from the burning, funeral pyre

Pumped up and jammed down into the ash from which it all comes, stardust, fool for hire

I don’t care that you don’t care, yet you read on hopin’ for the catch of the day, rollin’ a rock

Funeral and burial, incineration for all two hundred eight bones, all under my thumb, phoQ!

Don’t trip just because you are more holy than I am, I was a Catholic altar-boy, 13 years, a lad

Then the Force educated me on the actual #reality behind Ma and Pa and a military bunk bed

Pink sometimes but mostly lonely and blue, just in time to listen to boogaloo, midnight’s spec

Gambler and pawn shop, dealer of the cash to burn, bet you’re right when you’re a bluff, dick!

Ramblin’ with the spirits and souls, around in circles from lucky day to sad, good day in hehl

Wind blows four or more ways, depending on the trajectory of the matter in the space, I fall

Shroomy Cow and Alice’s #Vunderland hole, I and you in gravity collapse, we’re singularity

Rambling around the block in a Hearse or a Rolls or a Volkswagen in or out of this reality.

After the last breath you gasp for, right after that moment right there, that there, this here

All of it means little or nothing, I should have been, I would have been, I could have been

Features of the creatures that look like forms made of shapes of plastic, pig iron and steel

Compared to this thing itself you see, alternative reality has nothing to do with human zeal!

Downhearted and drained of the tiny bit or two of microscopic particles, angry atoms I am

Changed now and I am in total control with the will of the One at the helm, Lord helped me

Which Lord you wonder? For you my friend, to find out and I’ve got no say in the guy’s scam

Just remember, it’s a choice, your choice, you can be wise or foolish, a heavenly body #Slam!

Lonely and finished with the wonder of the surviving with the fittest amongst us, we survived

We never became the food of the carnivores, the bone-yards have our remains, our soul freed

From desire and need of the breath you and are takin’ right now, in and out, borrowed Time

It’s almost out the moment it becomes conscious of itself, a matter, a force of cosmic slime.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. 1-1-2019 Mardi @ 7h11 Hors de contrôle

{ drafted while #CatchinAWave to The Rolling Stones #OutOfControl & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/MHlxGg0QIqE }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#EyeCannotBelieveThis #Ouila

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DADDIO’S NEW YEAR 2019 A.D., ICY

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, December 31, 2018

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Alone and nothing but air baby, oxy-nitro, hydro-carbon and a menu-do of dead, cosmic soup

Mixed together in a menu do of cow’s brains and pigs’ feet, to eat or not, graves are in a loop

Deadpan spoon or a forkful, you can shovel it all down the gullet, no satisfaction’s all of that

Respecting nothing because it is all there is, the facts of life are chilling but, facts are #Fact.

You got here before or after I did, learned to read words and comprehend the being’s nature

I get ready to die every day of the living body, the oneness that’s here and now, bone bell ring

Saw it coming, body’s mind could have prevented divinity’s prestidigitation, a worldwide tour

Babies come and babies go, some sooner and some later, some never get past the zygote ding.

Perfectly happy and imperfectly sad, immortal ideas, a fiction of imagination, a chimera sin

Nothing or something, in the middle or at the outer edge of the system, chain of fools’ in a bin

From the front to the back, you will be what you are, what your intention allows, conquer it

Years, centuries and imaginary, fossilized parents of the present, hung low to burn and bury.

Chains of history, recollected by the ones who were never there, implants of an ignorant mass

Without the links, the fools are by themselves, all alone in the middle of paradise lost too fast

Before you know it, you discover nobody knows a thing at all about anything, farcical drama

Lying to me and sayin’ it’s gonna be alright, that is a mistake, I am a skeptical man of manna.

No free bread in the soup line, you must make an effort to survive in the cosmic bog of atoms

Naturally, Time’s Space becomes all there ever was, to you and everybody, even my God cums

Bringing acid to fruition under the blazing, red-hot, white dwarf, disguised as the Sun, Sonny

Boys and girls, it’s time for the show, we need to get it going, fade-out on stage, stoned Rocky.

All my friends and relatives faded to blackness on blue, all alone here and now, a haven sent

It is what it is and I can’t say no more since the WORD is all there is, I say it and it is so, cuz

Wonderfully composed compost in the hot spot, burnin’ nostril strength, odoriferous scent

A kiss and a shout away from the formulation of the mighty and weak, goodshitz got a buzz.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. FREEZEMBER 31, 2018 A.D. Lundi @ 9:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to some Slash, Derek Trucks Susan Tedeschi Ronnie Wood - Oficial & SimplyRed’s Mick Hucknall (Simply Red) Italian FAN CLUB all @ B.B.Kings B.B.King Blues Club & Grill New York #ThrillIsGone & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/3uneA-cstZs?list=RDjJncp6eMUSQ }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?