@PointerSisters #Gramma #ItWasWhatWas #DreamsPoof #DreamALittleDreamOfMe @DorisDay @EllaFitzgerald #LouisArmstrong

BARBARIAN BUSHWACKIN’ A VOID

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, March 6, 2020

-------------  #LINGERING  --------------

Everything is everybody’s concern, it’s yours and mine and even those unborn, ready to fight

Spirits within us and the spirits that will be in others as ashes return to ash and dust to putsch

I am the One in violent revolt for maybe nine months and some change, then I saw the light

Wide-open eyes see nothing but pure, amorphously formed shapes of things, resist we much!

Can a virus live in the wide open atmosphere? No? Then why are you disturbed about it, eh

You don’t know, I googled it from cyberspace, my iPhone’s smartest groove-gang, #Wu-tang

Your mama’s FB place in space, #FakeNews for us all to pretend to know what can never be

Thoughts inside of a mind, your own and everyone else’s, self-aware now of a huge #BigBang.

You got the i ching from Bodhisattva, it’s out of the bag from Krishna, Christ, Cain and Abel

But wait, monks ring bells, beat drums to remind the forgetful of the reason for being a shill

On this planet Earth, a long, long time ago, the ancestors lived with no wisdom of eye candy

Down the hatch to metabolize the emergency plan of coping with facts of life, fine and dandy.

Off of the road, driven by the wheels and spokes and rubber that animate astral, UV light Ga

All there is, everything including the space between the planetary things from the star’s Sin

Before and after your personal place in Space and Time, intentionally lured into Pa then Ma

There is no other choice other than using the mind, the brain’s power to annihilate the Gin.

Nuisance home of many people living in one four bedroom house, a lotsa fake friends of Hilo

From early in the morning until very late at night, party no more in my neighborhood, hobo

I won’t stand for it, I’m the only One you need to honor, neither your pa nor mama, just me

Over the hill extraordinary, chain smoking critical thought, Bugs Bunny of Siri play AC/DC!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday, March 6th, 2020 Anno Domini @ 7:11 AM Pacific Standard Time

{ Drafted while listenin’ to the Pointer Sisters #BetchaGotaAChickOnTheSide in an infinite loop today on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Jl26xPdY3IM }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#BabyBrotherAndMe #OnTheHunt @WARTheBand @LynyrdSkynyrd @SamAndDave

WHATEVER THEY BE...BYTES IT IS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, March 5, 2020

-----------------  #GrabAndHoldOnForDearLife -----------------

Miss me when I’m gone, a secret that nobody else knows, here’s an occult kiss, a certain bet

#FactCheck the #factoids and get in line with the logic and reason of rational thought, all set?

Like a jello molded into a circular design with the Philly cream cheese and fruity bottom hole

Way before I knew what to do with the naked apes in my future, I knew I had room for jello.

If, then at the alpha state of being there was an absolute Singularity of fake divine effulgence

Enter a random collision of Nothing with Something and here and now is what you get, gents

And ladies please forgive the manners we inherited from the naked apes, all your fathers’ sin

I am not to blame for the wrongs of your ancestors who may have hated their mother’s grin!

On course to be at the Ends where everything moves by crawling, floating, walking or flying

Those stars shining high in the sky every night when there’s no clouds full of alligator tears

Cries of poor and innocent, the rich and the guilty, all of the living become ghosts’ that sing

In the dream you can’t believe is not only just a dream but all that there is, everything i fears.

Inbound ethics justified morality of the behavior of naked apes, with robes and 3 piece suits

Good, the Bad and the most important Ugly animate the frames, one by one, step han steps

Regress to your conception and the conceptions of your ancestors through the stone age guys

Survival of the fittest means that you’re a product of the success, life on a dead star in demise.

Sycamore trees or the Evergreens and Pines, even the Weeping Willow, Elm and old Oak tree

Life underground with the roots that linger for eternity until the final blow of Big Bang mites

What I desire, what I want and what I need, all of that happiness in a nutshell, a dream of me

In Chicago conceived ‘round December ‘50, pops held mama tight, squeeze DNA, #TheBytes.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday, March the 5th, Twenty-Twenty In The Year Of The Lord Twenty Twenty @ 6:66

{ Inspired by The Original WAR Band youTube link @ https://youtu.be/QGIhRtDHTr8 }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

@TinaTurner #InterestFree #EyesDontCareEither @ZacBrownBand @FineYoungCannibals #CanniptionFit

STARDUST DRY, A FAKE LA BOMBA*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Wednesday, March 4, 2020

----------------  #GodSaveYourKing  ----------------

At bedtime when the bogeyman comes out from the closet or under the bunk bed, I’m hiding

Under the blanket as if that armor’s enough to save me, don’t want to be a raw meat nothing

Predators don’t care about your pedigree nor about your progeny but they will sip your blood

Going for the kill first so the thing can’t run off and make a lazy cat chase the thing, the food.

Wrong and full of the rights of the One who made the rules, the First Cause of the Movement

From being at rest, still as the night falls over the half of the Earth that becomes heaven sent

Of these mice and men who occupied the cinders, the dirt under fingernails type of grit, dig?

Tight squeezes of the fully armored host brings about the Singularity of the Phoenix, do a jig.

And then you move out of check with a fool’s mate that only works once on everyone but me

Pounding the zzzzzzzzz’s home before I ever knew I was tired, we all was weary with worries

No matter which way happiness was or is or will be, it’s not an option for a true cardiac seize

Pieces of candy to bribe allegiance to obedience to authority’s random throne, same old story.

I lifed up your host and your wino liquid candy, bread and blood of the gods’ divine son up

Never down from here, it’s not an option from a cradle to grandma’s hands, love’s china cup

It’s all ‘bout hair cuts and your threads, your kicks, serving mass in Latin on square blocks

Down on Damen and Grand, where I grew up on Superior, Huron, Erie and Ohio, the ‘hood.

On being the younger one, playing with snakes in the asphalt jungle, out of gramma’s hands

Dished out warnings, as it was supposed to be, freedom ain’t free, God overpaid the humans

Value of the nugget of data to know before you die is a game changer, your third wish’s blown

So, you don’t like the Truth, it’s God’s supernova man, apple core ain’t mine, Word’s known.

Unwed mothers and jailbird fathers from the penthouse and ghetto flat made no difference

Already gone and some not even arrived yet, the bodies of 208 bones will love the nonsense

Awake and hunting and fishing and fooling around until the sun goes down, then we groove

In the sand on the beach or at the red barn at the edge of town, chillin’ like a villain, I move.

Day or night of my final spirit trap there’ll be a coming to be, day One of the gods’ mortal sin

Full disclosure of the nature of Matter and Energy by Powers that came before us an our kin

All hands are on deck and all eyes wide open, thunder’s ready for an immaculate conception

Black and white or red or blue to the color blinded means that foresight is unseen concoction.

by

r j j stephan, i *header photo is ME circa 1955, I was a mean little MFer, workin’ my karma!

c. Mercredi 4 mars 2020 Anno Domini @ 11:11 AM Heure Standard du Pacifique

{ Drafted WHILE listenin’ to The Zac Brown Band #CantYouSee & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/P-eqfMb8s2I }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#CreativeDestructiveLicense

YOYO, SILHOUETTE OF HAND JIVE

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, March 3, 2020

-------------------   #WOKE not...  ------------------

You’re broke-back of a split end of an intelligence quotient, it’s all your fault, ain’t it a shame?

It’s the inheritance of the genetic recombination of the living souls that survived idiot blame

Creating more of one’s species, one’s own kind no matter which race of skin and culture spin

Movement of the illusion we entertain as the Truth about the metaphysically imaginary kin.

Professional hamburger riders at the rodeo, hitting the hard balls out of the corral, eat fans

Roaches and snakes that move the virus from place to place, immune from bacterial hands

Who talks and writes about things that they know nothing about? Nobody, that’s a factoid

High probability that you’ll die today or later on down the road but I won’t, #ImAnAndroid.

Got any good reasons to survive longer than your Time in this Space? Have a Corona, pops!

It is the way to keep the inner spirit flushed with the colored water of hops and Jupiter drops

Swimming in a lake or down river to the mouth of the sea, bytes of tusks mating like a walrus

Jib jab talking heads selling ANTI-bacterial wash and toilet paper, #FakeNews #YoYo virus.

Good, bad and ugly are the arguments for everything being everything, an idiot’ll die a hero

The hero is an idiot, defending the weak who are picked on by extinction of a primate species

Virus of Corona is just a circle of electrons wanting to reprogram your proton-neutron glove

Resistance is futile even if the holy men and sacred women protest and beckon mercy above.

Spin the yoyo up and down, around the world, walk the dog, baby in the cradle, tricky tricks

Function of your calculus and my equations of inequality yield the One and the Many, as is

Nothing more nor less than everything being everything that it’s always been, what it’ll be

Down home or way back in the pre-nature machine, out of this solar system’s galaxy slicks.

Peeling away from the starting line, layin’ rubber for 50 feet and catchin’ traction in position

Runnin’ redlights, slammin’ into baby strollers and old ladies in wheelchairs, overload of sin

Mortality or veniality are nothin’ but an original sin of disobedience to the commander-chief

Never before has creation revolted until the creator created a free will, not divine to err thief.

Now then the blues were made to play and sing slow and easy, like you’ve run out of go-juice

No more crying before dying, just a mouth agape and eyes wide open, a mass grave of a ruse

Playin’ all from birth, through self-awareness’ morality and ethics of dread, death in a squall

Right when you thought you had it made in the shade, it appears y’all are just flys on the wall.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Tuesday, Three, Three, 2020 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

{ Drafted while jammin’ to the mighty Allman Brothers #NoWayOut LIVE @ THE Filmore Theatre, 1805 Geary Blvd Sanfrancisco circa 1971 - the year I joined the War USAF ‘71-75 link @ https://youtu.be/yJ9twEldw_M }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhatIsIt #WhatItIs #SomebodyTellMe

HOLD TIGHT, WITH ALL YO’ MIGHT

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, March 2, 2020

 ------------  #TheresAnApForThatTheresa ------------

You slipped out and far away from my brain today, choked deeply on dolly daggers of blue

Days and nights won’t be the same after today, just because I’m saying so long to blue bayou

No more looking at me looking at you, no more misconstruing the order of things, I own way

Gash up the belly to expose the injustice of swallowing Earth, Wind and Fire, night and day.

All I want is you, all I ever wanted and will ever want is you, probably just way to shake it up

Don’t overlook the dynamics of the button down collars and liatard leggings, empty the cup

Never wanted to join a war in the bush and jungle but I dragged myself to the unworthy line

Hence, since 1971 until right now at this moment, the illusion was real and now? Cloud nine!

Where it all gets hung out, there’s nothing left to speculate and stipulate the necessary cons

All the pros have their face on a plastic card with a barcode and photo of a smiling stiff sons

Even the daughters of warriors and heroes used the function of calculus and soul searching

An innuendo that you’re sleeping and dreaming the mass confusion’s reality, so, so, touching.

In the game just because you’ve found yourself right here and now with no plan for me or you

Concentrating on the logic and reason for the alphabet and language of fair and foul play, fool

I used to sleep in my bed and then my father in heaven put me out with the empty milk glass

As if I was a bottle to be recycled down river, up country, denied life of a teat out of first class.

Filtering the beauty out of the beast, east, west, north and south of the axis and border jails

Searched the invisible soul outside of the 208 bones we’re given as a gift of blownout sails

Souls searched before your curtain call and before anyone knew, the finale is Omega’s seed

Recorded for replay instantly with the press of a button or command of Alpha disembodied.

Snakes and apes, bats can’t escape the viral pearls of wisdom, marinated bats-clam chowder

Batter up in the snake chow mien and rat-chop suey, hashtag rising, viral ritual of a mother

Fortune and Destiny mixed up to open the exit of the Twilight Zone’s fake, Future’s Past gasp

Presence now, at all times nothing to neglect, an honor to be in the river of dreams, the asp!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Monday, March 2nd, 2020 A.D. The 11:11 Movement @11:11 PM PST

{ Generated this piece of arbitrary, prismatic display of the ground of being & listenin’ to #GoldenEaring #TwilightZone https://youtu.be/HTTAPCUtbc8 }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#PeanutGallery #IAmNotWorthy #Temptations #TwilightZone #BallsAndChainsWelcome

FAR AWAY, WHITE TRASH BENDER

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, March 1, 2020

-------------------  #WeAreNotWorthy  ------------------

Slobs reliving the life of the man or woman who don’t worry about anything, not even dead

Alive forever and a day before the end, they’ll get a warning to tuck in all the foot-loose ends

Fait accompli or just an accident of the First Cause mythology, silver spoons in lord of the fly

Fear and loathing for the Truth of the stacks of dead trees and dusted ink from the dyin’ dye.

Black Jesus from Mexico or down Brazil’s way, somebody related to the Aztec or Inca duels

Where the landing of the aliens came to rest their lovecraft out of fuel for any return, 10 rules

Called them commandments to control the fear and loathing of the white evil, hornet stinger

Spelled backwards or forward, live and evil are one and the same thing, don’t shoot a tweeter.

So, let me get this straight, no problem with human sacrafice to the Creator Black Hole saves

In Babylon it will all be forgotten and the memory of me in the desert or atop the hill’s caves

All alone after the rejection and deflection off of the rock hard slate of the tribe’s inefficacies

Spirits too weak to control the hot fire and the frost of the icy days and nights of Uranus’ seas.

Babylon here and now, feeling the burn of the ebb and the flow of the hips, hook up my eyes

Unknown reasons for conception, survival of mortality’s original sin, immortal, invisible lies

Nothing to fear except fear itself deep down in every one of our souls, a purpose unknown X

Unsolved and with deep regret, the occult remains unseen, the wizard magic is a witch’s hex.

Your lights were on when you went to sleep on the top bunk bed, you promised you’d dream

Maybe you did and maybe you didn’t, that is the question since you’ve gasped a final scheme

From German Kant, Latin Seneca or Greek Thales or Chi-Com wisdom of a Lao Tzu droid

Into the Twilight Zone without a need or desire for a rudder to steer to anywhere, it’s a Void.

Do not put your self in my place, stay right there in your own place, delve deep in mortal sin

Marrow of DNA/RNA code, animate the Terra Ferma boogie-man nightmare, hazard rockin’

From a blank screen with nothing but blackness, no white or any color from prismatic bends

What comes out is identical to what came in, eyes and mouths wide open, it’s how it all ends.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Dimanche 1er mars 2020 Anno Domini (AD) à 9 h 11, heure normale du Pacifique (PST)

{ Drafted while listenin’ to Temptations #MASTERPIECE on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/U3z5NKskK60 }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?