#NoReadersAccess #DontThinkIDontThinkAboutIt

CALIFORNIA GOLD & MY HOLY RA*

Richard Joseph Stephan·Sunday, August 26, 2018

I will try to cop out on the whole shebang if I can, if there’s a will and there is, this intent

To be or not to be here and now, with y’all and the ones who ain’t here yet, heaven sent

Bottom line at the core of the essence of the solar system, galaxy and cosmos, is Evil yet

Evil is merely Live spelled backward, just sayin’ it is NO coincidence, you better #Think!

About the cause and effect of your actions after your mother and father conceived your egg

Microscopic DNA or just a miracle from the storks flyin’ around the partly cloudy, blue skies

Neither #United nor #American in a fractoid kind of way, over Niagara Falls in a houseboat

What the combination yields is this dream you see before your blue eyes, ears, nose & throat.

When I say ‘you dig’ and if I say ‘it’s all on you’ then you might want to become in the know

It’s all on your mind and your spirit, soul’s stuff of red, white and blue to discover the crow

Not just a bird on a fence, squawking and squatting in the yard, waiting for crumbs of mirth

Laughing at the #Struggle of you and me, one flight away from The New Day’s hidden birth.

Jump and slide to the left and right, stay out of the way but know exactly what’s grabbin’ you

From behind is the usual sneak’s modus operandi and if you’re ready, the wimp is the screw

Hidin’ in #Darkness, out of the mind of the #Others who kill n’ chill ‘round a black hold sun

From caskets on state Rte 1, #ZaZen keys your ride with #rock n’#soul, a Ra dam revolution.

What you will do is not what I shall do unless you planned to fly far away yesterday, it is done

When you hang above the earth to be eaten by buzzards and crows, the humane way is burial

Under dirty, burned ash of a star that used to be, dirt we call planet Earth, yo’ mama’s home

Hope and Faith will lead you to your dead ancestors joint, deep down in catacombs of Rome.

Old whitehead, old man that stayed away from the sea of #DavyJones, not my or your place

Not in this space, we need the air above the ground to seed genetic freaks here in this Space

DNA created from ashes of Nothing, you feel me? Am I rubbin’ your blind faith eyeballs raw?

Don’t shoot the messenger, I ain’t lyin’, it’s in the books my father wrote, #WordsUp #Ma.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 26, 2018 @ 9:11 AM PST

{ *drafted while listenin’ to @BlindFaith #CantFindMyWayBackHome on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/VLeZvv1EhYo }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#RednecksOnly #LadiesOnly #WhiteheadOldMenNo

SCOUNDRELS & INFIDELS, #HITME

by Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, August 25, 2018

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

OMG, he used a bad word, an evil word, the end of the world word, it’s a #WordUp, pal

My feet carry me across the ash of this dead star, pretendin’ it’s still alive after it all

A flash of atomic fission and fusion terminated the essence of #Rock remnants of spark

In the blackness of the emptiness of #Space, there is no# Time, you are It, you are Dark.

I don’t mean your skin or your mind inside your fouled-up cro-magnon, top-shelf above

God’s heart beats for a certain number of pumps and that’s it, that’s all, your caput, Love

Not only because you thought you were so pretty and/or smart in too-human crop shrills

But wait, but also there is no God, this is an accident of atomic collision without any Wills.

Amazing in the grace and outrageousness of supernatural emptiness, an obedient, #Fippy

An unknown, mighty invisible legend of the human mind, a contrivance of extinction fear

Stronger than the suboordinates and weak examples of genetic recombination gone #Viral

Northern to southern hemisphere, all around the circumference of the equator, Adam fell.

It’s a mythological generalization of the hidden misery to be abandoned, without a backup

Nobody to cover your #Six when your yin is exposed to someone else’s yang, “Yah! Giddyup!”

No reason to feel left out of the saddle without a foot in a stirrup my friend, ride her bareback

Hold tighter than a buckin’ strap and get ready to be thrown into the middle of a jet tarmac.

Whine and write about the woes of your conscious mind’s confrontations with fear’s whiplash

It comes and goes but it’s never real, it’s always an illusion of “Feeling” the superhero #Flash

Feeling inside what you think anyone feels outside of yourself is an act of futility, self-torture

If there’s a match at once and suddenly the match breaks apart a heart, love remains pure.

A philosopher inside job, it’s not the Time in inner nor outer Space no notice of Space’s Void

Pills n’ burnin’ cherry tree sap from livin’ in the crib of Captain America, refuge of the Freud

Unconscious. burned Ego and an Id’s Super Ego, #FakeNews crumblin’, sabotagin’ my solace

Get back in your dimension, back to #Scoundrels and #Infidels say that to my go-dam face.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 25, 2018 Saturday @00:30 AM PST

{ written while listenin’ to @SamSmith #TheThrillOfItAll Tour link @ https://youtu.be/7AXo-bYGXI4 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#JerseyDevil @JerseyDevil on the #EveOfTheMiscarriage

MIRTH AND THAT SMELL, KYPD

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, August 24, 2018

Laughin’ because it smells like gunpowder in the air, again a battle to avoid a reaper

No peace for longer than a New York Minute, it’s the nature of the battling soulmate

Burden is no more nor less than the future well-being of the Earth, mundane ecosystem

Presence regurgitated from the historical past of Time and Space, omnibus in a meme.

I’m not laugh-in’ just so you know, when I say something I think is funny, I won’t grin

Join in the stupefied mirth and recollect your function on this back stage for a thin fin

In heaven, your soul sheds your material thing, what you thought you were, you weren’t

Don’t look happy yet don’t look sad or lonely or uncomfortable, look like you do, gent.

Dropped a dime on me and you when we weren’t lookin’ and the grim reaper procrastinated

Needed to take one of ours into the inner circle where only the chosen few are initiated

Secrets divulged as if they assuage the fear and angst at the bottom of the holy cherry pit

You can’t see it but you can kill it if you just conjure up the right spell for hocus pocus.

Firewood burns but it’s not like that smell, like gunpowder burning, maybe napalm dust

Blinded and muted without hope to regain the power lost to the agent of fallacious rust

A moronic manifestation of the original Adam, first dude before every other who birthed

Twisted and burned, nothing to hold together the pain and suffering or the shock or awe.

An arrow clean through the heart’s left ventricle began the leak, life evolved to be Love

Omen of the alpha and omega in the system of this ups and downs, a round trip so easy

Raised hands, feet up on a rest to make sure the black panther feels the growl of the dove

I am what I’ve been since day one, no name for it except, lil ole me, so below, as above.

by

r j j stephan, i { “Hunter of Invisible Game” -- #BruceSpringsteen }

c. August 24, 2018 Friday @ 1:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to the #JerseyDevil @Springsteen #HighHopesCD & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/KYEg8K5HKzM }

W.W.A.R.D.?