P H I L O S O P H I A

Tuesday, September 04, 2018

#MakeItBurn #ShootMeStraight #SeventhSons #FourthDaughters @MamaToldMeWhenEyeWasYoung @MakeItBurn

UNDER AN IRIDESCENT MOON

Richard Joseph Stephan
c. · Tuesday, September 4, 2018

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In a change of mind and heart, the blow of death fades from taking over, like Godzilla

It’s not that you don’t want to be immortal and healthy forever until a Rico supernova

Reality is, we all come and we all gotta go sooner or later, but for sure it rings a bell

Nothing will survive either a century more or less, not even a vampire, not an angel.

I ain’t gonna let it get me down, just ‘cause I got a table for two and only One will die

Lonely rooms everywhere in every house from Tupelo to Tallahassee, tons of smokin’

Guns and rifles and plants rolled into cigars, bullets, gunpowder, girls and whiskeyin’

What I’ve done, I can’t remember it all but it was always light of the neon moon and I.

For the first and last time, the absolute Truth about the reality of origins, a third eye’s door

Heaven and Hell are the illusions of the frustrated monks and all brothers who come and go

In their haste to conclude the wonder, conclusions have been bleached, on the ground floor

With accidental fortune and a primal brain-full of mind, philosophy emerges for a deep blow.

Found nothing that I’ve ever lost because the found is valued as a deserved recompense

For the things that you’ve lost and never have found, nobody cares or remembers nonsense

Into the mystic, the clouds part and the absolute clearness of the sky let’s the spirit rise to fly

Out of the atmosphere, this world, jacked jaws wide, now so what, too dang high to tell a Lie?

Hillbillies and city slickers tryin’ to teach me how to be in Chicago or Maui, a little coonsmile

For the sake of Good, Bad and the Ugly the show must go on, immerse my love in dark holes

I saddled up when I was just a boy, rode off into a sunset, never went back to holy lake bowls

Born, raised urban cowboy, speedin’ in the city, past beer country moons, my irridescent pile.

r j j stephan, i { Blown dust off of the bible mixed with a Harvey Wallbanger yields 2P2O5 ! }

c. September 4, 2018 Tuesday @ 5:55 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to @DavidLeeMurphy #DustOnTheBottle & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/uNkF_ZpQ4eg }

#MakeItBurn #ShootMeStraight #ComeOn #WWARD.?

Monday, September 03, 2018

#Adventureland @WelcomeAboard

SKIPPY DAM

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Monday, September 3, 2018

For the alpha test of the journey between here, there, now and then, we’re a liquid black hole

Moving the Unmoved Mover from East to West, clockwise if observed from a northern pole

Counter clockwise below the equator in the Southern Hemisphere’s point of below, as above

My spirit, my consciousness, my memory, my imaginary self, non-existent prior to #Love.

Featureless and without motion, the #BigBang produces the distance between dusk & dawn

Musk of my odoriferous scent embalmed in my RNA, mitochondrion hypochondriac of dirt

Boredom, ennui of my father’s labor, creative urge to animate the given tabernacle of spawn

Recently awakened from the pretenders’ who hawk the blind faith, become extinct, to abort.

In the field of this matrix, you die in the middle of liking the being you’ve become, a #Hitman

Taking care of other people’s business that they cannot engage, elimination of denominators

Uncommon numerators and diminished sevenths in a hodgepodge of muddy blood of a bird

Drunken women and men, more than I need, more than you can imagine, downshift to 3rd.

Dam behind the wall of empty rocks and jagged rolls, it’s all you need to get wet and cold

In and out of the current, flowing like soft silk, currents and eddys below the pebbled beach

For the sake of the California dreamer, I become silent at the climax of the ORIGIN’s mold

Needles and spoons left for the ones who can’t survive in the strangling strangeness, I teach.

Burning and freezing here for a sort of repayment for disobedience or impudence of who?

Distant relative way beck in the day when everything was cool, no Jesus, just man’s booze

Nothing and nobody in between, to save us from our natural feelings and actions, fake news

I got some and you want a little bit, we can scratch one another’s back and lick our fuzzballs.

r j j stephan, i

c. September 3, 2018 @ 2:44 PM Monday

{ drafted listenin’ to # BozScaggs on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/5wNKQ7RRXfk }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#EyeGotMyHandsUp #YouGotTheWrongGuy #ItAintMyFault ....#TrueDat

ATYPICAL MARYROSE PHANTASM

Richard Joseph Stephan·

Sunday, September 3, 2018

Love grows where my @Rosemary goes and all I can do is follow the #Fengshui of #Zen

It is just a matter of time in space, my face and yours reflecting #Uber wonder and hunger

To kill and eat the meat from the bones of the living things that run from your raw power

Nobody wants to be eaten, dead or alive but if you’re killed by a cat, that’s almighty then.

Could have been a cancelled series, one of those 60’s or 70’s shows, reminisce among dead

Pictures and memories of things that used to be and are no more, due to the natural pothead

Blown away in a cloud of weed smoke, make Ala’s faded life completely obliterate brothers

Grace and prayers will have no effect on the stiffs’ ashes and skulls in graves and DJ lockers.

Lost and found in the same place everything always is, time and time again, it starts at zero

A timeline to the past and future at the moment you know that you are PRESENT, as a hero

Came to the planet’s surface through woman’s egg and man’s seed, absolute nonsense, hole

In this game, I didn’t know I was just a player, disposable diapers’ full of my golden #Soul.

Wild I know, I am and it is what it is, the nature of the beast, sneakin’ like a bat outta hell

Getting out of here alive is impossible for the ones I’ve seen, mouths agape, rigor mortis L

Do not pick me to see the light in the darkness and come back to let the world know, I’m in

In the back way or through the front door, up the side street to the dead end’s mortal sin.

FakeNews Revolution for the speck of dust we angels call home, the gist of it, we’re caput

Off with the heads of the Enjambments and Lincolns, Smith and Jones too, in a fake shootout

Between Good, Evil and the Live, only the Ugly can’t outlive what #Fake heaven too has done

A DNA manipulated by natural selection and astral projection of incorporeal rays of a sun.

In a cult of #RoseWine, a cherry blossom straddles the scent, aglow spice of an ordinary hand

Blame and responsibility for the possession and ingestion of the matrix’ sparkling moon sand

In a manner of speaking, it’s academic because in general, out-of-sight pretenders of #Nigh

Runnin’ the #dozens and engines of creation on empty, I’m immersion in a #MaryRose high.