"KICKS OVER SIZE #7, EMPTY TOMB!

KICKS OVER SIZE #7, EMPTY TOMB!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan  Friday, July 13, 2018

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Civilization of humanity, stuck the men, the boys, the girls who grow into the tax-you gang

Who defend Freedom, kickin’ in the barn, little feet over size #7, in a deep pocket blowhole

Took all the jobs and shoved them, the herd heard with their ears, they hear the gong bong

Filling the creator’s Void, empty pocket is impossible, it’s full of emptiness and a rubber soul.

Pumped up muscles, young and strong, energy and drive to be the best, to become the One

There’s where the Many reside, All for One and One for All, two, three or four musketeers

Grabbing the babies who are born to the unfocused, uncivilized parents or ‘parent’ is a rash

For the boss of their life, the people who reward your labor with a paper check of the cache.

Is it really an accident that the mantra isn’t generating peace and love, sharing the free-fall

I don’t think that can be proven or disproven but it’s an important point for the sake of all

You have the high hopes of the dreamers who live under a tyrant’s rule, island or province

All humanity want to be taken care of by the Big Daddy in the sky or a POTUS’ footprints.

Today may be rainy, dark or light and sunny but tonight like magic, it’ll now prestidigitate

Rolling and rocking not even felt by any of the residents upon or below the burned as#es

Leftovers from the #Fire that was the origin of the petroleum we use to combust our fate

In a deep, wet dream or just praying that there’s a Creator who cares, holes, women, ashes.

How did the ignorant, young idiot pay attention to the language long enough to feed the face

The meaning of life, maybe Monty Python and Benny Hill Funny Videos shed the ultraviolet

Disguised as the infrared wavelength, unseen yet present at all times, everywhere void, Space

Minds born to xy-zygotes, DNA’s size #0 to#7, All of It’s alone, a Divinity’s empty-mind-set.

by

r j j stephan, i { If you don’t know what the HEADER is a representation of, just forgetaboutit! You already did right? Yep, yep. Google Iwo Jima! }

DAWN IN IWO JIMA

c. July 13, #FridayTheThirteenth, 2018 AD @ 5:11 AM PST

{ consolidated the random stimuli into the inferior scat preceding this bovine excrement and all the while being entertained by Curtis Mayfield #SweetExorcist “To Be Invisible” & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/81foxlORujM }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#PowerAndNewWorldOrders

POWER AND NEW WORLD ORDERS

by Richard Joseph Stephan

 "...can't you feel the motion of the ocean?  They're wavin'..."

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Civilized and generated from the stars’ neutrons, protons and electrons, it’s gas on fire

Kept into the form of a human on the outside and billions of burning stars within It

Perfect old world and perfect new world both out of order in the chaos of mindfulness

Here and now where nothing is, that’s where I’ll be, dwelling on the hot funeral pyre.

On the natural order of the Earth’s rotation and wobble around a gas ball, spittin’ fire

Powerful accidental birth of DNA in the burned out cauldron of astral slush of beer

Perfect and permanent monolith in front of my house, keepin’ out the war dogs’ ire

Hungry to bite and kill something, dogs ferocious ready to assist woman with her, sir.

Appearance of the illusion to be the reality of your presence in this matrix of the tower

Outside the bubble with my gnostic perfection and hard liquor catapult the soul to Ra

Where the gifted and the depleted merge into One, being burned at the stake’s fire spa

Spreadin’ legs or moving the friction into the nervous system’s sex, knowledge’s power.

Eyes close once more, one last time and they won’t open up again, don’t look now, holy Ga

Pierced with swords and stakes, all of the lives I’ve lived are more than I’ve taken to my ma

Fallen off of the double-cross and crawled away because both ankles were broken up clean

On the way to the mountains, I got bushwhacked and took the stage, the Law’s order seen.

Flaws of Fate are merely a skewed point of view, an error of neglect, cathouse morticians

Some fortunate and others not so much, the fate of this man is the end of life, yours fool!

Wishing on a falling star or imploding core to expel the myth of Nothing, mathematicians

Version of an Imperative Category in a momentous realization, I’m the fire who made you.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 12, 2018 Thursday @ 3:33 PM PST

{ WHIPPED OUT while listenin’ to 992 arguments of The O'Jays #MightyThree #PutYourHandsTogether & HITS listenin’ to @ShipAhoy on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/AjOgxv177cs }

 #CrackTheWhip 


W.W.A.R.D.?

#NationalConscience #CashIsKing

#BENJAMINS

CASH FOR NATIONAL CONSCIENCE

Thursday, July 12, 2018

 

It is appropriate after fifty years to divulge the Catholic secrets of parochial school in the city

Sisters, brothers and fathers they referred to themselves, in secret orders of myth-rich scree

Often pretending to be the dominant and demanding a subordinate rebel, toes the line erect

Become this or that woman or man, ethical in governing humans, to be or become the fire.

Bias in your opinion is normal due to the nature of opinion, it is manifested from assumption

Of men and mice looking for the food or for the resting spot to avoid being killed or fire dried

To be reasonable, a conscience of the nation deduces ideas from facts of life, everybody died

Interpret the paper and the ink, the words, the meanings, the numbers of dreams I’ve eaten.

Then and only then, the solid argument using propositions which follow assumptions’ deities

Nobody’s ever seen any and the only ‘people’ to claim to be a god, are dead and gone bodies

On the day you and I die, the only thing that will matter is not how much coin-cash you bank

Diamonds and gold in a galaxy might buy you a NY minute, stacks of C-notes go wet n’ dank.

You want more Time in this Space so that you can do what? Do good for your survivors souls

Your own kin, friends and neighbors, superiors and subordinates descend into a Black Holes

Because there’re no ATMs outside the North and South poles, outside of this Life, It is a Void

City hall won’t help, a POTUS has no remedy for mortality or life satisfaction, kiss this, droid.

Chin up, pessimism leads to optimism right after you discover the somnambulistic tendency

To pretend to be awake while you’re asleep and walk around in a sort of daze, nothing fancy

My thing’s not your thing and this thing itself is all there is, in the middle of empty Space sin

So, go your own way and I’ll never see your face or invisible soul outside of this Earth’s spin.

by

r j j stephan, i { *in desperation #DarkWeb #DeepState in disguise, invisible! #ShakeItUp }

c. July 12, 2018 @ 8:88 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to the mighty The O'Jays ‘ESSENTIAL’ HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/yz-Nx0s5_j8 }

 W.W.A.R.D.?