Last Resort (explicit) - Papa Roach

W.W.A.R.D.?

IT IS WHAT IT IS & IT AIN'T WHAT IT AIN'T - #EyeAintTrippin

WHO WOULD HAVE KNOWN

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, August 3, 2018

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It’s my Chicago cap that rules the day in my world, didn’t have to catch a pitch or hit hard ball

Got it for a gift from my brother or my sister, sent it overnight service up the FedEx air ramps

I smoked my last cigarette in the dugout with #14 when I was sixteen, in the Colt’s league foal

Magical all stars moved in and out of a dream at an All Star game, where we beat the chumps.

Pardoned by the President and the Pope for the sins of hitting ten homeruns in one ballgame

Small bears moved around the diamond, steppin’ on bags around the horn, on the way home

The score tied or lopsided to one side or the other, maybe even a blowout without any blame

A pitching gem of a no hitting shutout game, perfect except for a batter hit in the bald dome.

Bottom of the seventh for a stretch when the leading run is on first, cleanup hitter, bags load

Fast ball down the pipe embeds it’s cork n’ skin stitchin’ into the Wilson’ wood, slam, explode

A homer or an ancient, elder male or female, soul food of the creator of two gonads’ monads

Peanuts, seeds, nuts to go in or along with the fruit, all grown for the Paradise sinner fads.

Amounting to little or nothing at all when it finally comes down to it, be a king’s fresh squirts

Into a queen who doesn’t mind a labor of love for jokers and thieves who love to be perverts

Parameters of the diameters and radii become the thing in the space, it’s dimensional blow

A Chicago Bear hungry for another Lombardi Trophy but a Cub can’t wait for #CommishTro.

Winning is everything and it’s the only thing worth while, losers lose the game, the race’s sin

Pummeled by the competition, the loser crawls back to the ranks of the homeless human race

Where the singles and hordes live to die without ever caring why, a non sequitur apostrophe

Superstitious glyphs on a dirt wall signals no free choice, all things are just to be or not to be.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 3, 2018 Friday @ 11:11 PM PST

{ written while listenin’ to a cornucopia of rockin’ stream like Marvin Gaye & HITS link @ https://youtu.be/H-kA3UtBj4M }

W.W.A.R.D. ?

#LoafingOverHer #JoinTheUnionLeague #GotChillsAllOverMyBodyAgain

A MANBOY FROM A BUOYMAN’S YOYO

 

I had green hair when I used to swing that piece of round wood or plastic around the world

I walked the dog and rocked the baby in the cradle, even had a butterfly backward stack yoyo

Up and down and all around the world from the Filipino Yoyo inventor Pedro Flores’ mold

Two pieces of wood and a string, using gravity and resistance to throw and return the gold.

Just about twenty-five miles from home now and I tripped three or four times since noon

I haven’t felt this good since I was about eight years old and that was sixty years ago, goon

There’s no reason to feel good nor bad about it, it is what it is and it can’t be any more Jack

Not a thing more than a small bit of knowledge that’ll yield the power you need to kick back.

How come you have to wake up every day and go to school or work or even be a broke bum

There must be more than the reason I’ve been told, alone in darkness, we hang in and run

From the nightmares and dreams that happen when everyone’s asleep as a fortunate son

Marked the beginning, the original start of the go-green light, holdup, Origin’s Zen scum.

Putting the payments into arears mode and noticing that Jupiter no longer aligns with Ga

Aquarius is gone and a sympathetic dreamer turns to the holy of holies, locked in a box

Where the sun never shines in to allow the sight to see the vision of the unnamed fairy

Neither a godmother nor an honorable sprite, can you say ‘yo-yo’ bandoleer animation.

What goes up must come down just because it does, we call it attraction to Eros’ love

To the core of this spinning elder piece of the solar system, where molten iron simmers

Underneath China and England, a fire of the origin remains while the night eats riders

About in and out, over and under, all around up and down, leave my horse, stars above.

Kiss my ain’t that something, you know better than that, I don’t mean literally, you crazy nut

Cracked as you are and totally bereft of the modicum of intelligence you’ve been a joke’s but

Betting that you’re getting the best of my love in the world, two bits I gave it all, spit my spit

Dreaming this baby down here, who in #Ga I am, a man-boy, a boy-man, Richie Rich’s #Hit.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 2, 2018 AD @ 7:77 PM PST

   

{ Header's a masterpiece called #TheKiss a sculpture by @Rodin as well as #TheThinker below the Abbot/Costello video, so there, BOOM, THERE IT IS! }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

{ written after a grueling SUV purchase day, drinkin’ shots with my old lady & listenin’ to Steely Dan #Aja & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/fG2seugAgnU & jammin’ to my personal hit #RicoRockHardFavorites program on #iheart link @ https://www.iheart.com/favorites/ricorockhard-724148/ }