#MrMisunderstood @EricChurch @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

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TRICKS n’ GAMES FOR #scatHEADS

by Richard Joseph Stephan·Thursday, August 9, 2018

You and I bury our heads deeper than the ostrich that’s almost extinct, don’t ask, don’t tell

But me, it’s just not something I can do once I find out the incredible that is occult protocol

I know that you think your body will die like the others you’ve seen come and go, just caput

That’s it then, the end of the days is the last blinks you get in your life, no more sign input.

Silence and sightless, a soul can’t drink or smoke it therefore it’s useless to the gods, Ala Ra

Seeing the sensory perception, comprehending the nature of the beast and this matrix Ga

Nothing left over when it’s end of days for me, I am not sorry but I am upset about the Lie

A fib that the priests and nuns told my mother’s father, they kicked him off the ship, ahoy.

Stuffed or starved, either way you’ll let your heart stop the beast within, total breakdown

Not just the nerves but the entire DNA complex from head to hormone, seeds are sewn sod

Dug a trench, deep in the ground to bury the roots in stardust, to suck the bytes of a clown

Goin’ into the #Outernet for the #Innerspace peace of your piece of mind, on loan from God.

You might have an aversion to thinking about the end of life philosophical analysis of sounds

Either you turn out to be the food of a carnivore or cannibal or you get your form sucked dry

Then, wrapped in a favorite outfit, while stiff and rotting, you’re buried under holy grounds

Prayers said to the #DeadAir and without any answers from anywhere, soul fire hits the sky!

Puns intended if there are any, they’re all in your mind, nobody’s colder and harder than I

No softer than the basalt rocks under volcano holes, where the lava spews into heaven’s sky

A song now, a line in a poem then, miracles one after the other to make the things all be high

Ideas blew over my shoulder, past my mind into the #666 atmospheric pressure of your Guy!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 9, 2018 Jeudi @ 2:22 PM PST

{ written while listenin’ to some @EricChurch #SmokeALittleSmoke & HITS/jamz on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/XxWjtWONuGc } 

W.W.A.R.D.?

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE FOREVER TIME (Episode 1)

W.W.A.R.D.?

HONEY AND LOLA MOVIN' #ricoSacto @ricoSacto #CominToGeeZiz

HONEY AND LOLA MOVIN’

by Richard Joseph Stephan·Wednesday, August 8, 2018

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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. ?