SORE EYES EXPLODE, BEAUTIFUL!  *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are not the image reflected in the eyes of the one you love nor are you a glass of red wine

No spice grown out of the dirt of this burned out cinder of an ash, microscopic-macro divine

Please don’t follow this to the ultimate conclusion, assume nothing and conclude, slow-blown

All greased, it’s all wet down to the soul-rubber, prophylactic, invisible six-string down song.

It comes in orgasmic simulation of a star’s death, letting loose of the star stuff into the Void

As if the macroscopic and the invisible are One and the same microscopic and invisible, a toy

Playing games with the mind and body given or the ones stolen or borrowed for a time’s boy

Home run or triple, double or single, it matters little if any that the game’s all over, android!

Necessary condition is annihilated for the sake of the abyss’ presence of , dead star river flow

Men and women, old or young trying to stay alive without being killed, gutted, cooked, eaten

Perfectly deposited in the middle of the empty circle, the solid, liquid and gas mixing reason

In the deep, dark holy place where the orgasmic frenzy lurks to coax the effulgence to blow.

Not dreaming now, never dreamed at all and I never, ever will in the future, it’s all a mirage

Nothing to see, feel, taste or hear but you can smell the odor a mile away from a holy origin

It is the scent of the dead, fish, birds, gods and men, stench of places that garbage dumps in

Paradise of the imagination, what was lost and found without a clue, just the end of my Time.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 2, 2018 @ 12:12 PM PDT  

{ drafted while listenin’ to my iHeart station 94.7 WLS-FM-chicago https://www.iheart.com/live/947-wls-5367/ }

 
*HAPPY 67TH ANNIVERSARY MAMA & PAPA ALFANO/STEPHAN & HAPPY 64TH BIRTHDAY TO MY ONE OF MY FABULOUS SISTERS, @JoJoDomico & here's my JoJo tribute GOOD DAYS IN 1950 & 1954 !

@Radioactive#2068


W.W.A.R.D.?

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HOT D.N.A., #AllHandsOnDeck

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If you get mad about every little thing that goes awry and become a persnickety mermaid hair

Life will be a waste of time for the likes of you, it’s supposed to be a pleasant trip, only for her

Yet it’s not, she’s not where she wants to be and that’s where ever she’s not, a tad out of reach

Angels n’ mermaids flyin’ and swimmin’ around but no happy ending, stones in a sea’s beach.

Pick a number from one to nine and then multiply it times three to the infinite degree, to see

Nothing’s left over when it all comes down to the addicts who breathe air, drink blood of me

Make movies about what they could’ve been doing if they weren’t dead and gone, outed bled

Always a thought after the fact when it’s too late to apply to a situation at hand, hindsighted.

Trippin’, workin’ for a livin’ waitin’ for the weekend, pretend like it don’t matter, just forget it

Perfect world, life on Earth is a complete story of what was and will always be, #FakenewScat

Don’t doubt me, doctors and masters, mad professors and drag queens, mutants of you & me

It’s all ‘bout revolution and orbit of this dirt ball of ash and snow, poppin’ caps, river and sea.

I used to drop to my knees when I had two but when I lost those bones, I lost the way to kneel

Before the statues left for the living to look at and pretend the dead didn’t die, pretend to feel

The bruises that stay once the pain is gone, to remind you that it will hurt again, if you let it

Conditions begin perfectly then deteriorate with the passing of moments, life froze my spit.

An act of love this is, to analyze and categorize the concepts to come up with the Golden Hole

Doing, acting like you’re the creator of this heaven and Earth and every other galaxy’s speck

Deeper than a gap in cosmic stardust, the Mariana Trench sucks you in whether high or low

208 bones glowing in the plasma, cosmic effulgence of terrestrial pablum, all hands on deck!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 1, 2018 Sunday @ 6:66 PM PST

{ written while listenin’ to #PhillyForgetMeNot by Daryl Hall & John Oates & Train on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/FGMDKNSQC44 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

 "IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE THE NOD"

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Used to nod off before even blinkin’ twice just because I was mellow, you were mellow yellow

If the whole world could be in black, white or in technicolor, the natural selection’d be #Hello

Just because there’s no reason for the Life being in the universe, there’s no reason for doom

A miraculous event creating something that didn’t exist moments before creation’s big boom.

Under pressure, undercover, under the bottom and over the top without a leg to stand upon

Just some words and songs about the past events and people who lived through Space-Time

Jingled liberty bells rung until cracked under the vibrations from the Mariana Trench’s fun

Putting perspective into a proper format, a bullet mystery of this skin-tight, tin-horn rhyme.

Perpetual light on the dark side of Uranus, where that burning star won’t shine, I dig that bro

Even if you’re a paperback writer or sportscaster/disc jockey/talk show host or butler for a ho

Coming to know the six days of work by the seventh day when there’s nothing to fix of create

Day of rested bones and mind overload download is required, insanity avoidance is my fate.

Rode the ticket I got at the depot, sat next to a fine looking grandma with her comfort dog

Barked and growled, snorted breath and more growling for five and half hours in flight log

Boredom or apprehension are the only two choices available, nothing more or less, our fates

To be here and now or not in Eden’s garden, Eve’s addiction to the buzzkill and blind dates.

I smoked and drank it until the gas was all gone and I burned it all down and up into smoke

Just because I could, I knew it didn’t matter in the long run, just the short one, before a toke

Over the line sweet Jesus, where the buzzing never stops because the lows need to be higher

In the blue sky, the black sky with the stars, grey skyscrapers between blood and bone scatter.

Band of gypsies left me all alone, my father called me one of them, a gypsy prince I was, I am

Chip off of the old block, livin’ off of the lake’s streets and city boulevards, I knew well, oh yes

Fortune’s a matter if and only if there is no energy independent of a cosmic principle damned

To the end of the line where we get chances to roll the bones, snake-eyes dead, never confess.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. June 30, 2018 Saturday @ 9:11 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Darius Rucker #WagonWheel & random HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/hvKyBcCDOB4?t=3s }

W.W.A.R.D.?