P H I L O S O P H I A

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

#911 @911 Nine-One-One

NINE ONE ONE, #NeverForget

Richard Joseph Stephan·Tuesday, September 11, 2018

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Millennial of this Space and Time results in the bacteria and viral infections in Hades’ stealth

Nothing or something doesn’t matter much when the buildings caved, breathing man’s filth

Chemicals mixed to build the structures that filled the air with Death, present and future slim

Before our very eyes, we can see the Cause and the Effect of the “Ones That Did It” yes, them.

Dream on into daylight with the perpetual nightmare of meeting and greeting with the RAPS

For the sake of the carcasses left to the ones who survived the contact with heaven’s guffaws

Nobody will ever get out of this mellow function without becoming dead ashes’ gaping jaws

Playing the songs until you don’t hear the tune any longer, background noise of the TAPS.

Contentment is paramount to finding the Truth about this trial’s tribulation, nine one one

Way up there at work on that morning, looking for the angels to save the trapped and cryin’

Only suicide remained as a panacea for the idiots who pretended to know God’s name, death

Cursed and unforgiven terrorists resemble the targets in basic training, bulls’ eyes within.

Taps playin’ all day on nine one one, #NeverForget what they did and who they are, their kin

Still want to scrub the infidel from the planet’s surface, nothing has changed, we’re the best

All of the honorable yet futile attempts to become comrades with every species is in distress

I stopped trying to mend chromosomes of the species’ DNA & adapted to a #FakeNews mess.

The Truth is what you’ll never know for certain therefore use the uncertainty to survive here

Everybody isn’t happy so to be happy is an asset philosophers sought long ago, drinkin’ beer

I do, you do, we all do, alas, nevermore can we trust to embrace the unknowns’ ‘x’ factor zed

Even the rich and poor need the air to breathe in and out, to live, to survive, to be once loved.

r j j stephan, i { *NeverForget #NeverForget }

c. September 11, 2001 { a day that lives in infamy )

{ written while listenin’ to TAPS ON youTube link @ http://www.newsweek.com/never-forget-911-three-naval-ships-bear-names-crash-1115558 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

Monday, September 10, 2018

AC/DC - Soul Stripper - #ShootinMeStraight @OsborneBrothers

W.W.A.R.D.? #ItsYourMove #PourItOnLikeAShotOfWhiskey #ShootMeStraight #TimeForHappyHourAndLastCall

#NobodyLovesMeLikeSheDoes #DontLetMeDownEasy #LoveThatLastsForever

HANDS-UP, SYMPHONIC KILL-SHOT

by Richard Joseph Stephan

·Monday, September 10, 2018

Enforcement of the Law is a critical cog in the machine, Order is a man’s holy grail, ten-four

In the lobby or in the attic or basement, the penthouse or the cellar’s underground tide score

Everything is everything, a symphony, you know it, I know it knows, you do too, a victim law

That everybody knows everything that there is to know, no surprises before the gaping jaw.

In this space of Time, in this Tide so to speak in the old English tongue, woe be tide you curse

From the nun’s thirst to maintain order and obedience, the idle threat actually was a magical

Not an idle threat at all but a full-fledged #Spell of word conjunction which causes it’s effects

Now, I’ve got your attention ‘cause you’ve become defensive of your lock on an existence deal.

So, woe be tide back, if y’all hear me, ‘Charity’ & ‘Blessed Virgins’, Creator-God’s holy womb

They were all very nice, holy women who reinforced my mom’s pop’s interdisciplinary morals

First, Oneness and then ad infinitum with the Golden Rule, Ethics, all imperative allegoricals

Orphans spoke Latin at the altar of God’s ad infinitum sacrifice, old school gloom & doom.

Got a motor on your boat so use it to get across the water when it’s slick as glass, a plan son

In no time as all, you will know like only the dead and a few ‘other’ than dead, I am your own

Pinked out on this here and that there, in the name your father and an unwed mother, my ma

Father was a priest who forgot about the fornication celibacy, sister was my mother’s mother.

Yes, grandma was a sister of the blessed virgins yet she was not, and she became head sister

Provocative hair-brains comin’ out of the woodwork like roaches, a day before being hyper

When peace and love were the symbols of the day and death is final, no god ever made man

End of life’s a gas, 208 dead bones playin’ concerto on the 88’s, significantly, ‘all too human.’

r j j stephan, i { from Symphony #3, Opus 55 thru Violin Concerto in D major, Opus 61 }

c. September 10, 2018 Monday @ 7:11 AM PST

{ whipped up while listenin’ to @LudwigVonBeethoven on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/W-fFHeTX70Q }