#ValuableScribble #OneTwoTree #123

LIPS OPEN THE DOORS, RICHARD *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, March 13, 2019

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Closed minded people, integrated from head to toe, lipstick on a beautiful woman, rosebuds

Why the attraction to the lips? Observe the monkeys, the apes for the clues to erotic services

Naked apes are slightly different without all the hair, remnants left atop or hidden in crevices

Who you think you are, who you think you’re related to from the Past, of human remains is...

It’s not God my religious com-padres and com-madras who have the problem within, it’s y’all

Y’all are good and evil, it’s not your fault that y’all are conceived in or out of sin and created 1

From two we merge into one and don’t have any problem with that until the next rollin’ ball

You catch it, hit and kick it, you throw it, you headbutt it and we bury your bones, oh my son!

It’s bigger than bathing in bleach to get rid of the contents inside the 208 bones’ immersion

In a funeral pyre the dust left over is exactly the point of origin, from it we come, my only son

Daughters educated us, sisters prompted us and brought out the protector in the X-genome

Why it’s the Y-genome that causes the Earth Mother to animate the wobbling, ecliptic drone.

I pretended that you are important, more important than I but deep down I knew, I’m sacred

Without me, I don’t see or hear anything here and now or evermore, I’m the thing Itself’s Id

Drummed into my conscious mind, fighting for the right to live free of the overlords who kill

They’ve a view of the points of light in the black Void between me and a scam, you’re a shill!

All of the doors have been slammed shut, there are no locks, no keyholes, no handles to find

I had a professor or two in college who attempted to assault my 27 year old mind, they failed

Marx and Lenin studied The Word made flesh to dwell among us, queer nature of mankind

Light of ultraviolets and infrareds become all too human nature, hopeless idiots God’s killed.

by

r j j stephan, i * header of poem is the head/lips of a fav femme fatale of mine, Stevie Nicks

c. March 13th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:11 AM PST

{ drafted like a caveman up before dawn, listenin’ to #PokeSaladAnnie #TonyJoeWhite on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/MCSsVvlj6YA }

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W.W.A.R.D.?

#PushinTheSeed #NoExtinctionOfThisSpecies

PUSHIN’ SEED IN, FILLIN’ HOLES

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, March 10, 2019

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Just gave me a lickin’ and I cursed the blood that flows in your veins to your tiny love heart

From that day forward, I knew I would run away and never, ever come back to a holy start

Blue on black and black on blue, the bruises come from the pushes and shoves, pre-mortem

Naturally, the same thing has happened ad infinitum, for the reasons hidden by dream REM.

Pouring the liquid out of a pitcher into a glass that’s both half full and empty, simultaneously

One little stone on the rock pile of broken, earth crust, star dust of the cosmic menudo mass

Impossible that this is an accident that the dreaming consciousness of the yoke, posits gravity

Or Ra or humuhumunukunukuapua’a , the orbit on the ecliptic is affected by Matter’s body.

In extreme orbit around our star we call the Sun, our matter is spinnin’ to death’s deep space

Ad infinitum for the sake of nobody special, we’re leftover astrophysical collapse of God’s face

No reason to be or not to be, there never was a question before the #Word was made flesh

It dwelt among the land animals, it swam with the sea animals, it soared with flying animals.

Enlightenment of your sister and mother became yesterday’s trouble, they got shook awake

Psychic and in the flesh and bone, storage of the guilt of disobedience to the supremacy flake

Called it the gods, The God (by a thousand sounds of the Word) and just the idea of a Void

From DNA codes appearing out of nowhere in a microsecond, quark microscopics all collide.

Perplexing distinction between the nature of the human which I am and the prenatal zygote

Where I was before my mother and father mated to conceive me was nowhere, all she wrote

Between the emptiness of space and a random movement of atoms through Time and Space

I do what I like and like what I do, I’ll take the risk, a Death punch in the nose to fix my face.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. March 10, 2019 A.D. @ 2:22 PM PST

{ drafted in a Void’s vacuumed interior, in a room on a planet, deep inside of an electrical current waves (#MIlkyWayGalaxy) & listenin’ to #ShockAndAwe on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Gtp51eZkwoI }

#MysterySolved #MovedFirstAndLast @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

GETTING LAID, A FIREMAN’S STYX*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, March 9, 2019

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Underneath a broken Ad sign on top of the brick building at Harlem & Lake, gangsters’ fight

There was a secret entrance underneath the cellar that crossed the road in a sewer of knaves

With the rats my grandpa showed me in the traps near Ohio & Wood street, a Sicilian delight

Where I come from, where I was born and suckled, nurtured near Ashland & Chicago Aves.

Comin’ home with candy from Brach’s, my grandpa popped a vein and into a coffin’s wake up

Never got to ask them why they came to die, caravan to a #DesplainesRiver cemetery mix-up

I couldn’t always be full of grace and Catholic virtue, but I did get out of Chicago alive, MFers

#Death nearly arrested my benign attention, God dam it, magnets attracted evil dog howlers.

Putting the hot porridge out to cool on the window sill the dogs came and waited for the end

When the silverware clinks on the bottom of the bowl for a remnant of a lick or two, depends

On the way I feel and the opportunity that doesn’t knock, sneaks up behind your old bones

Vibrations inside the heads, where the gongs bang, inside the kegs of suds, mash corn-pones.

Only you know and I know what this is all about, nobody else really cares much about life

Break hearts for real or figuratively from east to south and north to west sides, bytes of strife

Glory holes suckin’ the joy out of the last refuge of scoundrels, happiness in ignorant bliss

From One we come, maybe two, that’s alright, it’s this holy trinity ghost I can’t see, no tryst.

No changing the tune in the middle of a medley rant, just get your kicks on Rt. Seventy Three

Jersey to California to Alaska and Hawaii and back, love all 50 states of logic’s ninth illusion

Cats scratch autographs for the checks of debits, traded for silver pieces of eight, me booty

Function of the equations is to measure the Time in Space, to wonder if to be or not, is to be.

by

r j j stephan, i *Header is a tribute to my hometown, where I come from, Chicago Avenue!

c. March 9th, 2019 A.D. @ 10:10 AM PST { a cornucopia of noise from the diotynic dream }

{ drafted while simmering on goin’ to Starbucks (4332 Watt Avenue, North Highlands, CA) for a #Cappucino and listenin’ to Styx #PiecesOfEight #ImOK link @ https://youtu.be/8FkEtB075Ng?list=PLAFA5AC6331D3F6BD & a special treat about #ClimateChange & #Plankton on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/cpUf2EAmHxk }

W.W.A.R.D.?