W.W.A.R.D. ? #ShipAhoy #MotionOfTheOcean #HungryBirds #LiftThatBale #CrackTheWhip #NobodyIsMyMaster #IAMNobodysSlave @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

 

WHERE YOU GONNA GO, BUSTER?

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Sunday, October 28, 2018

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Steppenwolf fingers of Family’s right here and now, smiling at me playin’ The Fool, a beggar

Different from the Others in gene pools of neutrons, protons and electrons, mama holds dear

Satisfaction’s never guaranteed woman, no money back, golden ring is God’s demigod blood

A flow out north and south poles, my lucid dream sold to a white boy in a backwater flood.

Some sons of does do run with herds of spiked bucks, roaming without purpose, live to die

No purpose it seems other than to run, to avoid being eaten alive or worse, a trophy for Moe

To be or not is an option for none other than the human naked ape, a la mode of apple pie

I can still hear the basement door creak when the hinges were swung open, Homer’s below.

No spirits stick on matter, used and consumed, beware of smiles and backstabbing googles

Liberty from the northern and southern banks of extinct Americans-Asians, prenatal survival

Compared to the freezing cold, naked and hairless skin of ancestors worshiping Ra & Baal

We’re the gods that we thought came dropped a dime on our ancestors and left us struggles.

If you have eyes to understand the nature of destiny’s reality, a search to breathe in and out

You suck it in, chew and spit it out into leagues of muck and mire, spirit son of a sea biscuit

In and out of the air, all around the whole shebang of matter and energy, go hug-out doubt

Can’t make Man or God out of bread and wine, respect to knock-off hydroponic honey bees.

Sweet, warm, bitter, cold, #FakeNews unknowns of this Yin’s and Yang’s real serendipity, GA

Trees consume carbon dioxide and exchange it for exhaust, this oxygen we suck as if cream

Mystery of the deaf-dumb sensory perception of mankind, resolved in seizure of this dream

Look and see a UFO blink152, Persia-Greece-Romano category imperatives, Mazda Zeus’ Ra.

All these verbs, nouns, articles, adjectives of interjections nobody wise or idiotic ever finds

There’s an empty, black void between linguistical hell, good-evil hands in mine, angel minds

Doors never existed to block exits or entry, being Space’s place where Nothing is God’s face

Godsend, a burned core, #BlackHole dancin’ with a hot #SuperNova , my Void, All My Space.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. ROCKTOBER 28th, 2018 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to #Backstabbers by the #MightyMighty The O'Jays HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/hzTeLePbB08 }

#SkimminRocksOffOfYourHead #ThillsAreAllGoneNow #GiddyupYall @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

NEVER BE, TRUE DAT LIE TO ME

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, October 27, 2018

When there’s trouble dead ahead and you’re ready to drown, a smokin’ n’ drinkin’ down hard

Burnin’ the leaf and swallowin’ the swill of the ones who came just before your Mama’s spit

She screamed and you got down here to this Ground of Being Human, lucky you even made it

It could have been worse, aborted in a flush, superstition of Ones kissin’ up to an insane bard.

Mighty changes in the sea of gas, the hydrogen atoms fiddling around with the DNA o’er here

Wars, firefights, skirmishes for the DNA and RNA battle for total control of #FakeNews fads

Grouping the acid-heads in a marvelous dance that animates the rocks, pretending sin & fear

Ruling grip on this morning star, God to die for, never see god-sped light, Satanic, Ra gonads.

Go way back into the occultism of the ancestral denizens of this rock, right here, dirt down It

Deepest hole in the entire universe where no sun, no star ever shines, center of nothing, a dot

Now and then you can almost get there but you are required to return, to breath the gas’ exit

The burn is what we feel, what we are, it is what we do, we burn and get burned, it is our Lot.

Down the hatch with the pablum of the angels, the eggs of the Here and Now, Time’s Laplace

Remember the recollection that’s been forgotten since you fell downstairs to the stuck Space

Kickin’ your jaw shut down on your ragtags so when they find your bones, they’ll bury your It

Agape throat, post nights n’ days of exposure, out to sea and back again, cryin’ for Jesus’ spit!

Georgia peaches, Memphis blues make you feel HOME, a breeze of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s innards

On back to the Beatles, Little Richard, Elvis, Frankie, Johnny, Billie and Sara who the who do

Notes, melodies form the air around the dirty rocks, dirty black water and a creator’s scree

Gone daft, wild, missing, never to be found, It came before the WORD, It’s to be or not to be.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. ROCKTOBER 27, 2018 AD @ 7:77 AM PST

{ drafted inside of a helium balloon flowin’ drinkin’ bottles of DiHydrogen Oxide listenin’ The Rolling Stones #GimmeShelter & HITS youTube link @ https://youtu.be/RbmS3tQJ7Os }

 

W,W,A,R,D, ?

#Punks #Gangsters & #Crooners @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

ONLY YOU, NEVER LOL OR ROFL *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan  ·  Friday, October 26, 2018

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Save the last dance for me ‘cause I know you won’t have fun if you don’t cry a river over it

No heart and mind besides the one that moves the prime out of you, hatched a star’s orbit

From a little beauty mark on the jugular up to the heavenly spirit that rotates out the Earth

Stardust is dark matter of my FATHER’S bullets, MOTHER’S sweet lips, stargazed a hearth.

Photos of the thing itself, the thing is Salvatrese Alfano, #MamaMia of mine and the #Five

Brothers and sisters a microcosm of the whole shebang in the valleys and down by the river

Quality and quantity under total control of the One, nobody gets out alive because it’s jive

Talking and walking about meanings of things, places and persons who animate the liver.

With or without the blood, you won’t recollect your grave or your final space, a vanishing twig

From the thin air or the thick muck and mire of the dreams dashed or come true, just sing

Lucky you got a second or a New York minute in this dimension’s Reality, just ride n’ swing

Like your ma and pa before y’all, even if you’re an orphan, just thrive with the jive, you dig?

We flew to the moon and stared at the blanket of emptiness between gas balls of burnt soul

Greasing gears for the entry into the abyss, I have a tidbit of love for y’all in a nutshell’s nut

Sit under a tree, on the ground, back straight, knees folded, hands in East or West holy chant

Listenin’ to the reason why I don’t get around in circles anymore, can’t twist and shout a rant.

Next door, A DREAM came true, don’t get around much anymore, hardly ever get to the door

It’s all One and the same, I see what I will see when I die as I close my eyelids with a tie score

A darkness, blackness without sound or any light, nothing to smell or taste, Nothing to know

Life to live and death to die, from Plato to Poe a search due to wonder ends, curtains, no bow.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. FRIDAY, ROCKTOBER 2 6, 2 0 1 8 A.D. @ 5:55 AM PST

{ written while jammin’ to some Harry Connick Jr ticklin’ the 88’s with some Sentimental Journeys & ownHITS link on youTube @ https://youtu.be/Caabqbp7RVE }

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W.W.A.R.D. ?