HONEY AND LOLA MOVIN' #ricoSacto @ricoSacto #CominToGeeZiz

HONEY AND LOLA MOVIN’

by Richard Joseph Stephan·Wednesday, August 8, 2018

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

To the beat and thump of an unknown smash from a man or beast or falling tear slander

It really doesn’t matter at all since the same flight will happen any day on yesterday’s fly

No difference between being born right now or just after a Big Bang or Silent Whimper

Parked between rocks and hard places until they get vaporized and make room for a spy.

Unnatural and unnerving if you keep your mind on it and focus on the thing that exists

Inside the mind or outside of it in the essence of the being’s bones, eat the monotheists

Then when they’re all gone, starting a fresh look at the situational ethics we love begins

Coming for the jugular vein of the keeper of the stuff we can’t know, bled on trash bins.

From hidden bushes to the rail road tracks, boys and some girls walk, in boots and sneakers

Looking for a place to be alone for a moment, to be alive and feel safe from God’s assaulters

Won’t leave any one alone, if you are awake and alive, you’ll be cased and swindled out of it

For a love of money and life, it’s all one and the same to a bad boys creed, don’t phuquit me.

Part time and full time wanted to pass the time, reverse the time and speed up time mood

Because in the dimensions without answers, ignorance remains blissful and kills the blood

Immediate attention to the volume of dead dirt left from the forest fire, worst in Cal history

Locked into Lola Myers and drunk on the green tea, whiskey and Honey Bancroft, I can’t see.

Takin’ a stand beneath the reddened sky and killing the hydrogen and oxygen of water vapor

In full view of the devastatting effect of letting a fire happen in the heat of the summertime

Singin’ and hummin’ tunes from the cotton pickin’ days of the master and the slave’s door

Honey in the comb and blastin’ the song that The Kinks sang about her, Lola dropped a dime.

by r j j stephan, i

c. August 8, 2018 Wednesday @ 2:22 AM PST

{ written while listenin’ to Zac Brown Band a live concert in #NapaValley 2013 on youTube with the #HeavenlyBodies link @ https://youtu.be/T721JwErNFY}

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

#PostPartemImpressionism #SavoyBrown #Satch & #SRV

 NOTE WELL:  "@SATCH SHRED OF COSMIC DANK, DARK, GOOEY, STICKY & POTENT "     {originally DRAFTED ON @Facebook & censored by the #FacebookNaziCensor & had to CHANGE the name for the politically correct #FACEBOOK to: 

#SHREDDED #CENSORS #WORDS

by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, August 7, 2018

If you knew what I know you would be ridiculous and I mean in a very good way, not too bad

It’s a matter of going back and forth to the watering hole and drinking lemon-lime Kool-Ade

Prior to the first F sharp and G flat merging into one and the same note’s sound of silent tone

You here, with me now? You’re a momentary planetary consciousness, an ego’s skin n’ bone.

No reward for being such a good boy and girl, a good woman and a meticulously perfect man

Your fortune is that you are here and now at all, in a universal ionic lapse of critical reason

Completely in the infrared zone below the absolute void, where the nugatory rules nothing

Mothers and fathers excreted the revolution, intelligence in the cyborg’s cemetery plotting.

Ready for the end of the days of your and my life when nobody will care about us any longer

Nobody will even wonder what you’re doin’ in the box underground, or in the ashes rained

From the clouds of heaven that never leave for outer space, always contained the #Graceland

Mind’s eye not in the middle of my head but in yours, in your will to power, in the quicksand.

You will die, I promise, it may not be before me but for certain, after me, quite gentlemanly

All you can do is cry, just like the old Savoy Brown jam, if it hits home, just love insanely

Never give up the feeling, even if there’s nobody else human around, grab a dog or hooker

Either way, get something alive in your arms to generate the verve or get to an undertaker.

Think about the sheriff and the law enforcement like it’s your dads and moms, all cousins

All the people go to school to learn the ABC’s and the morals of the culture, society’s norms

Violations are discouraged and depending on the infraction, punished for the severe sins

Doing ‘it’ to others, harm and death, stealing private property, fencin’ it to buyback worms.

It is urgent and it is a necessary condition for the reason and the rhyme, with or without you

It doesn’t matter whether you like it or not, the Truth is the Truth, there’s nothing you can do

Whether you’re a wise philosopher, a quiet clown or patriot fool, all of us live for God’s drool

Pink, blue, purple to ultraviolet hue in a discreet scent of bull scat at the bottom of a cesspool.

by

r j j stephan, i { #Shreds of Satch #ConscienceOfTheNation }

c. August 7, 2018 Tuesday @ 11:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to #TimeDoesTell by Savoy Brown & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/3dQ9H4XrhMs & Joe Satriani #AlwaysWithMeAlwaysWithYou & #HITS link @ https://youtu.be/VI57QHL6ge0 }

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

#FatherOfMine #FatherOfYours #AMotherphqrr

MOTHER’S FATHER OF US ALL

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Monday, August 6, 2018

No fear inside the head, nothing at all other than a wisp of sewer wind, flowin’ in me for fun

Popped up and dropped down into the deepest gully grooved into the crevasse, it’s a scheme

Not that you’d ever know if I didn’t mention it, your mama and papa didn’t say a thing, son

You thought you were a special thing, a thing itself, apart from your form of skin and bone.

Gold in the veins of the dead star’s essence, still moving the super cosmic filth ball around

In relative circles, nearly escaping the gravitational pull but then always returning to the hole

Where the star sun generates its essence and effulgence for the sustenance of your empty soul

Playin’ the games and the music until the end is near, then losing the laughter, giggle sound.

A hit or a miss every year, every summer, every fall, winter and spring but always feels good

Alternatives are unacceptable, for instance, disease, death, pain, suffering, nagging, no food

Therefore, logical and rational as I am, I choose to hunt and store food for the duration of me

When I die, no surprise, my jaw’ll gape open like everyone else, eyes wide open but can’t see.

Supreme love for the process of the evolution of Space and Time and the embedded heroes

Ones that nobody will ever forget because the legend is monumental compared to the blows

Everybody takes them, uppercuts, right crosses, jabs, punches in the ribs, kidneys and groin

On the way down for the count, knocked out but happy in the disease, God’s flippin’ a coin.

Programmed to stop and hold up the process at the fork in the road, nobody can ever go back

From Motown to a City of Angels, round back through Dallas, Baton Rouge, NYC and Chi-T

No 800 numbers to dial for help, no 411 on speed dial, just final blinks, a stain out of whack

Like you’ve done since a teenager, super-kid bloomed out of a puddle of mud by the wet sea.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 6, 2018 Monday @ 11:11 AM PST

{ written as I drifted into a PLETHORA OF CRISPY SMOKE in the California skies & listenin’ to Uncle Kracker on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/06WM8oLH87M & @Everclear #FatherOfMine #MyDaddyGaveMeAName #ThenHeWalkedAway on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/kkcbxjWG9Mc }

 W.W.A.R.D. ?