#DreamsComeTrue #WatchWhatYouDream @ricoSacto #ricoSacto #IDGAS ...ENJOY, BON APPETITE, YEAH, #IMAWRIGHT

MAKIN’ DREAMS TRUE, TICK TOCK*

ssssssssssssssssssssss 

Look deep inside your own mind, your head in your own good time, it’s the least you can do

Asking people or reading what they’ve written in humanity’s languages of babbling stupido

I am not qualified to speak with authority concerning the nature of the human beast, daddy

Where did you go without telling me the reason for being alive, I gotta golf, I need a caddy.

In a totally blindsided version of an accidental collision between boys without stop signs

I died, you died, the cemetery buried the dirt and bones of the rest of eternity’s triple plays

Social and political beings without borders rule the world’s Third Kind forms, It ricochets

At rest when in the original state of Nothingness without a shape, it is the First Causings.

Bring your mind here and now to analyze the following conclusion, stay outta SingSing

It’s a likely and probably example of what I or we think is true but not beyond any doubting

There is a chance that the perception used to evaluate the analysis may be a near-sighted blog

Words of mice and timid women teach the boys allowed to see daylight, oh blinded eyes agog.

A moment after your own death, it will be identical to the moment after my own demise, copy

Of the DNA and RNA to survive the accidental implant of life, spontaneously byte on a floppy

Recollection of a memory you and I’ve forgotten in the desert and at the top of the highest hill

Down to the center of the core out to the empty vacuum where angels fear to go, so take a pill.

It will make the worry and fear go away for some time but it always returns to overtime, score

Rocks are soft compared to hard things between nothing, being nothing things I can’t follow

From one coast to the other, one continent to the other six from north to south poles’ equator

Seeds’ in StarDirt, mortal life lives within a myriad of forms, a categorical imperative, wow!

by

r j j stephan, i { *TIME FOR DAYDREAMS! APRIL FOOLS DAY, LIKE IT’S YOUR LAST! }

c. April Fool’s Day, 1st of April, 2019 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST

W.W.A.R.D.?

#PERFECTIONisRIGGED #FakeNewsIsTheWholeTruth @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

A LITTLE SOMETHIN’ TO JUMP FOR

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, March 28, 2019

---------------------------------

Way up higher than ten feet, the hands’ bones slam on the rims, no longer hard rocks to fall

Easy as a swish through a nylon net, big boys and girls throwin’ the pea down, jammin’ a call

A little game created to keep the young fellows out of trouble, without it we’re doomed to see

Just a civilization of smaller skeletons, less than six feet long, two feet wide, miraculous to be.

Computers, #2 pencils, ball point and fountain pens, vaporized trees’ pulp into leaf pages

To capture the light and the ink in accepted, standardized forms, to read and digest sages

Wise men who told some tales without giving away the secret, why we’re here, who we are

Gods gave a narrative to the scribes, they wrote it, we read it, nobody ever knows it there.

Until you and I reach the final showdown, before the fear of death overtakes your tiny mind

Think about it, you were thinking of things and soon you won’t be, it will all be over my kind

Presence of sons and daughters of the unseen, above the matrix’ essence, below a poop deck

Children of men and women are what we are, that is all, no more or less, hey what the heck?

Motivation to move up and down, in and out, over and under in a 360 degree kind of circle

Is dependent on the ingestion of proper sustenance for the apprehension of momentum’s pill

You and I and no one else but the first man you met on the street, horns blown, here and now

Back doors side-locked tighter than tom toms, snares and a bass drum, skin of god’s spells.

Strings to rub the sound out of the friction, melodies and rhythm from hearts’ ebbing souls

Provided the stuff that dreams are made of, nothing substantial, no substance of tide flows

In or out of love, in or out of veins, bloody feelings seem to be all there is, either to be or not

Nobody knows, philosophers and priests pretend to know, the sheeple’s need to be a robot.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday March 28th, 2019 A.D. @ 7:35 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Joe Satriani “LIVE” #AlwaysWithMeAlwaysWithYout youTube link @ https://youtu.be/BsJisD7n8_Q }

 

 FINIS

Follow Me

INSIDE OUT OF THE VORTEX

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, March 16, 2019

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Utter hopelessness and your godmothers and fathers is the catfish hole, a noble holler

Wherein these words enter your cranial cavity and your mind wraps around the star

Horsewhipping’ comin’ down the pike to a neighborhood near your city-country trysts

If and only if you are an idiot, a moron or a nutcase then you will take offense at this.

On the way back to the barracks from the doctor and dentist I fell in love with signals

Stop, slow and go at corners or for jaywalkin’ stone-agers, ate a savior’s human genitals

Without iced cream, our world doesn’t rock n’ roll around the sun’s ecliptic, killed dead

Death is already gone and you might not like it, this eternal immortal being is voided.

Revolving and repeating, automatic and systematic, a function of the calculus instead

To be or not to be in this material world of rock and dirty star debris, gods’ dams dead

Dreaming on Saturday night, I thought it was real but then I awoke with a foot cramp

Rolled out of the rack, rested in the room, hit the streets and boulevards, lick a stamp.

Steeped in the vat of gas you breathe in and out, it’s a prank call to your mama’s kids

They know you when they see you but they have no idea where you’re at, row of skids

Off of the corners, in the gangways where angels fear to go, boys use foul, pig squeals

Complete smokin’ of #MrPickles, hunger and thirst aside, waving yeller banana peels.

Burned, buried, lost at sea or inside a volcanic eruption of the planet’s hot, rock soup

Around in circles or from point A to the infinite point at an end of a right angle’s line

Consumer of the Word, there you are you liar, call me and I’ll put your foot in a stirrup

Stepped in it more than once, smellin’ like the putrid smoke of refused matter, mine.

Naked but still alive and hungry for the food to continue the trip around the One down

Second, third and fourth down’s notwithstanding, it’s a perfect game, a shut-out clown

Mothers and fathers of the malformed, maladjusted homo sapiens, rest in empty peace

Where there’s no sights or sounds, feelings or smells, Vortex sucks, God’s highest priest.

by

r j j stephan, i ....if the mountains tumble into the sea, bada bing bada boom, that’s all!

c. Saturday March 16, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to TheDrifters #StandByMe & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/YaqjpfZJjpk }

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

-------------------------

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.?

#3DisasterInTheDesert @TheRollingStones #GotGreenMoss @Aristophanes

INTO WILD, OLD BLUE EYES’ SKIES

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, March 8, 2019

----------------------------------------

Put yourself in the place where nobody else has ever been, without a roadmap, expect success

It’s willed to flow down from snow-capped mountaintops all the way down to gravity’s recess

Impolite to disregard the nature of the sophisticated ladies and gentle people, even some men

To have been made up with coloring powder and face of he purple people eaters in a lion den.

Finest lookin’ skeletons walkin’ around on the surface, swim only when bikinis drop derriere

Below the Mason-Dixon line or above it, a struggle to survive begins with a farmer’s daughter

Finally the struggles end as body clocks stop, Time halts in the Space warp, burnin’ god’s eye

If you haven’t tried it yet, there’s no way you will, shoot shots in the end, sunrise up, then die.

For the sake of all orphans in empty space, collapsed into a Void of sisters without mothers

Sons of men and mice, roaches and the lizzards, priests, nuns and outlaws of step brothers

Peace and War just two places for shotguns and pistols, amending seconds, boom boom-pow

In the clouds of the beauties and their ugly step-sisters, nothin’ to worry about, ebb and flow.

Every time there is a reason to bake the dough, we run out of the gas to burn, can’t bake it

Fire and ice is both the necessary and sufficient reasons to suspect that real things are not

Real that is, jackin’ your style and puttin’ my money where my mouth is, I bet you ain’t shit

Not because you don’t think you are, I know the ego I see clouding your vision’s blind spot.

Spectacular lights as above, so below the conscious awareness of the spirit, the soul of Ra

Inside of a body or the small fragments of mutated acid down in the dessert salt mines of Ga

Lies to the chief, naked truths broadcast to the urchins’ decaying carbon, botchin’ my revelry

At least we got to surf the waves, tan on the beach, had ecstasy to the very end, I lied to me.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. March 8th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:20 on #RichStephan’s my #1 son born on this day in 1973 A.D. & he and his brother remain my only two contributions to the #Herd of the #BeastOfBurden

{ *drafted while jammin’ to #HITS of the THE ROLLING STONES 2018 LIVE concert on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/9WqQyMsonQ0 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

Lady Gaga, Bradley Cooper - Far From the Shallow Now (A Star Is Born)

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhereDoYouThinkYouCanGo? #NowhereIsCloseEnough

A PRINCIPAL WITH #1 PRINCIPLE *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, March 7, 2019 

--------------------------------------------

March on, during the “Ides” I learned Francis Bacon was Shakespeare, he hacked the whiffs

Another Bill of lefts and rights, uppercuts and roundhouses to knock out the conscious stiffs

A quip or two to persuade my father that I was that smart-asse all kids and adults fads’ trends

Systematic dissolution of conscious thought and bodily extinction and decay, #Good offends.

Not just because I love to shock monkeys and make ‘em uncomfortable in caps of coonskin

But also because I myself, need to focus upon it a moment, an asteroid-spawned, fool’s mate

So here we are the 48th year after the booze-fest of teenage angst, drafted in a monkey’s bin

On a mission for the head or tail of the human putsch from the continental drifts, atomic fate.

Proof for the indefensible, undefinable and unbelievable, only you know like I know, misters

Not for a small reason, a big deal, this is a big, big deal, so what, who cares, not me, you do

Long stem roses are all history, no more flowers once in a while, once a year anyway, boo

Not something I’ve thought about much but I’d say I’ve traded gold for a thousand flowers.

Go out on the weekends until you need to go drinkin’ on the weeknights and drink before 6

Or after 6, AM or PM, amazing how the fire in the water becomes One with your DNA’s #Six

The exit and the entrance remain closed to the denizens of this Twilight Zone, like it or not

You’re stuck for nine innings, four quarters, three periods or just the duration of God’s plot.

They said we inherited this from the First ones who muffed up the perfection of blood rips

But why the progeny must pay for the sins of the fathers sounds like Slavery, indenturement

Standards for society of the twenty-first century written on the basement of pyramid crypts

Out of sequence in chaos’ disorder, I’m in Time’s Space, Will of asteroids the Big Bang sent.

by

r j j stephan, i { *Happy Anniversary to whomever may have had a #FalseAlarm in 1973 }

c. Thursday, March 7th, 2019 A.D. @ 1:11 PM PST

{ drafted while #Grovvin inside of the womb of the Void where #Wiseguys fear to go & listenin’ to the #YoungRascals #AllTheBest on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/-OJlfgSBNkY }

FINIS ECSTASY

#ComeAndGitYourLove #RightHereRightNow

RAINING, SNOWING, CRYS O’ SKIES

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, March 5, 2019

-----------------------------

NIMBY is the WORD of the day and that is what will be done from yesterday to tomorrow

Huckleberry Fin would have just moved on as the cartoon would have you believe, a low blow

On a factoid which may, in fact, be a gleaning of #FakeNews muscle cut to BBQ on the pyres

You and I know nothing more than anyone who has ever lived, as much as the unborn fires.

I gave it all when I did not want to give any at all, there is no will to power, it’s arrhythmical

The magic, the occult, the digital unknown left off by silicon valley UFO backengineer pals

Little glue sniffers who used to make plastic airplanes, cars and boats, high on glue you fools

Nobody told the 8 or 9 year old why he acted crazy as a loon, no psycho-analysis in schools.

Swearing to the slaves and the masters that this is all there is, there is no doubt that it’s true

Blind faith in the lizard brain inheritance of the evolved amoeba from the swamp’s residue

Upon the social media you and I pray to the gods that the server doesn’t crash into Katmandu

All there is left at the point of no return is Nothing but what you see, blinded by bloody blues.

Perfectly interesting pumping the sewers to ream through the pipes of the excreted groceries

Gold under the ground, stinking to high heaven, ferment what the bones shat into the ground

Love of pure air, pure water and your mother’s milk, the stuff inside the teats not the tin cans

Always subtract from perfection one way or another, I’ve once again stooped pretty low man.

I’ll die free, a man alone, married twelve times two, on a northbound train to the Yukon gold

Without ice and hot rocks that make the world go around, rollin’ country in the city’s house

Drawin’ lines in the sand, puttin’ fences and walls up higher than the goats jump, so I’m told

Wind and rain are what makes the world roll, our home’s skies cry, on a maggot and a louse.

by

r j j stephan, i “....if the tears roll down like rain....well then......you know......let her be!”

c. March 5th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:10 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Darius Rucker on youTube #LetHerCry & HITS youTube link @ https://youtu.be/WB5iDs-kxUw?list=PLME6FOIvldEW9Re-1NIKNpaClci359xdx }

FINIS

#AMAZON @AMAZON #AmazonWomen @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

SADDLE UP MONKEYS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, March 1, 2019

------------------

Shapes of the light-blinded vision, inherited by the DNA of this world’s slugs’ bloody souls

Inscribed by gouges in the slate and rock-hard CD’s, film and tape, fake humanitarian goals

As the flight moves the herd ahead, following the leader who fears nothing, invisible fakers

Of the purple sage or the ones who gallop with the storm, the cyclone caused by #Doors’ sirs.

Keep your friends closer and your enemies closer, know who each of them are and where too

Knowing who they are is useless if you don’t know their intentions toward you and your farts

Pricking up your ears automatically as you recognize that you’re getting ready to turn to glue

It is what they do with the plugs and thoroughbreds alike and it ain’t my fault, is it yours? Uh

Dogs out of the war and living amongst us, in the middle of civilized society they stalk prey

Good, bad or ugly matters not one twit as the meat on the bones falls into the hot spit foray

Dirty and burned fingertips, hands, wrists, typed words flickerin’ on screens, rockin’ omega

Behind the shadows, the thing itself remains at One, alone and at Rest, as it has since alpha.

You don’t know like I know, listen to the song if you don’t believe me, it’s not for me to say

Take a stress pill, think things over, try to overlook your need for vengeance, forget about it

Why don’t other species of animal and plant pray to God? Why, what the #SamHill! Pray

That is all you and anyone else can do, a data byte of ideology, Langley in Urbana sang today.

#Daisy Daisy give me your answer too, I’m half crazy all for the love of you, dada dada dada

You’ll look sweet on the seat of a bicycle built for two, on the other hand, maybe it’ll fa la la

Thought provoke this if you dare, nobody knows anything about the genius of the genome

A finale of watchin’ the sixes of all living on every continent, apes will rule the #Shrewdness.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. March 1st, 2019 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to WAR THE BAND #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/WJMAzHaPaOU?t=1 }

FINIS

NONE OF US ARE FREE - SOLOMON BURKE