P H I L O S O P H I A: What Would Ayn Rand Do #WWARD #Humuhumunukunukuapua'aa #Brexit

Sunday, February 17, 2019

#MAGIC #NIRVANA #OTHERS ...

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, February 17, 2019

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Smoke and mirrors now and then, all you need to explain yourself, a saga’s MF’n real Truth

No justice in the Truth regardless of it’s relation to the Fact that Nothing exists, so, forsooth

Now, of course there are no apologetics for the application of adaptable skills for God’s sake

If you don’t use it you will lose it, Time tested factoid, tattooed on your skin, a TV news fake.

If you are not an orphan then you may have to use your imagination for this but here y’all go

A light you see at the end of the birth canal tunnel is the first thing you get after the darkness

Pretending to go back to the light for a rebirth is the pablum of the masses, a fund for clueless

Midnight Special philanthropists send The Self to morgues of all too human funk, nail to toe.

Forces of pain and suffering that come from surviving well into your sixth decade, petrified

Memories of the Past and the Fear of the Future absolutely forcing You to overlook Presence

Being at this moment, not later and no sooner than the tick you recognize your Nature tense

Beast of Burden for a few orbits, lucky to have become a man on a street, fuckin’ sperm lied!

Let me say this about that after I light a smoke to get back the recollection I keep forgetting

It was right there at the tip of my tongue a tick-rock ago, amigos and amigas, no fretting

It may not be what we’ve come to understand, we may be alien-origin or maybe not, crash

I was on a private jet to see you, thought that I might never see you again, you got the rash!

I delivered the daily and weekly paper, I collected pennies and nickels for empty bottle return

I packed my pockets full of gum and candy at the leafcandy™ candy factory sour apple gum

Rode my Schwinn bike with handlebar streamers as fast as I could back home to safe house

More sugar to rot my teeth with decay from sugar lodged in the smell of my mouth’s gums.

In-taking and metabolizing the sensational gifts of this petri dish of rock and gas, sunshit

I mean sunshine, on the other hand, it is the refuse of the Origin after all is said, It’s victory

Cream of the crop or the utter echelon below the pit of Hades, a smell surrounding Hamlet

To be or not to be is never the only question, it’s the fool’s choice, Mercury, Venus or me!

r j j stephan, i

c. February 17, 2019 A.D. @ 7:77 AM PST

W.W.A.R.D. ?