#WitchesHallow #NeverForget #LastBreathWillCome @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

 

DON’T LIE TO ME BUT IF YOU MUST

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, October 31, 2018

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Make sure it’s worth the risk of losing the love of your life when you take on the assignment

If you choose to accept it, you will be well compensated without worry for fame heaven sent

Chances are slim and none this isn’t just a nightmare, dream within a dream, without weight

It doesn’t matter a bit if you honor the ethics of civilization or that you deduce a Gomer‘s fate.

Hockey puck flyin’ past the blue line for an icing call, so the defense turns to an offensive role

Reverse skating and on defense going backward at the netted target, screening the goal hole

Style and grace on blades of steel, on a wooden stick of backup pine to slap shots, high stick

Checkin’ the bodies up against the count of the command, all’s well and counting down quick.

There’s feathers on the ground but more still on the Eagle flyin’ above to the nest, high or low

On a peak of a mountain, Big Mouth open wide like a gaping Mariana Trench rockin’ below

In some kind of a stranglehold on the culture’s voice, a muffler stops the signals to choke it

Air to breathe and gas to burn, gravity to churn, make the world turn, fly around, oval orbit.

You will, they will, we all will do what e’er needs to be done before we die, including nothing

To know that there is nothing that anyone can do about anything, is to know the truth well

Without compromise, from the thing itself, the matter, cell by cell of the body and soul ring

DNA and RNA blocks to form the matter, to shape and force it’s being to become, all #Hell.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi, ROCKTOBER 31, 2018 @ 10:10 PM PST

{ DRAFTED while jammin’ to Stevie Nicks #EdgeOfSeventeen concert #LiveInChicago on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/S3DhXcQepbY }

W.W.A.R.D.?

BONA VENTURA------- & a Happy #WitchsHollow to y'all! ------------->>>>>>>>>> @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

COME TO STARS’ & SAINTS’ HALOS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, October 31, 2018

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If not for the evolution of the orgasm, just like the lemmings jump, mammals would vanish

What I’m referring to is Nature’s evolution would never allow survival of any shadow’s dish

If not for the cosmic soup left over from the Big Bang’s solar system, creative internet stream

From Nothing we all became what we are, what you see’s what you get, our holyhell scream.

My town and your ciudad in the middle of nowhere or deep in a hood’s magnificent OMG

I do not exaggerate when I say that One could not make this up, it must be an accident I see

Complete and utter fear of the shadows that move in the day and the night, irrational scare

Get jacked up on the sugar and monosodium glute, fascinated by all of the girls’ long hair.

It’s much more and much less at the same time, in spades, play cards or roll snake eyes’ die

Anything to win the jackpot that is the jackass’s gold down the road, invested blue soul’s ice

Pawned it all to get the return of it all, now with nothing left after the last bet came up dry

It’s purple or red at one extreme of the spectrum, Spirit devours the prism’s light, high price.

In a dark place where the stars never sparkle, the sun never shines, there is Nothing living

No bodies and no souls, no spirits in the night, from my lips to God’s ears’ good old waxing

I am not in jail, I am not in a full lockdown, high security place free from the shanking dag

Killed none, blamed for a spree on fifteen or twenty, innocent of the guilt, a murdered jag.

From the tip of the Earth’s mountain snowcaps to the bottom of the Mariana Trench’s matrix

Everything’s everything and that appears to be an inescapable fact of life, as is you got my six

From the virus to the dinosaurs, spiders, snakes and Homo Erectus, we’ve come into this One

Hide under your bed, FUN to be these Homo Sapiens on a #Holloween dead moon, BOO son!

When you die, you’re dead and I’m really not a Jehova perpetrator of Truth or Lies of sheet

Being in me is exactly like the being in you, consume my flesh and bone, get you in the mood

Without the power, Corpus Christ to die and there is no spirit or soul to boot, so die real good

Revolutions won’t be televised but UFO’s left monster signs, we’re all Holloween sweet meat.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi, ROCKTOBER 31, 2018 @ 7:11 AM PST

{ DRAFTED while #ScreamingInThePumpkinPatch listenin’ to #TheNightmareBeforeChristmas #ThisIsHolloween on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/kGiYxCUAhks }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WitchesHallow #HappinessIsFlyingInARollsRoyce

I THINK THAT’S MY DAD! WHAT IT IS?

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, October 30, 2018

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

That man right there, he really does look like my dad, a bit tricky to treat you on Halloweens

Dark eyes a little bit different but the rest is exactly like him, as the wind does, we just blow

I was about two months old the day he died, he was about twenty, reduced to smithereens

Compared to this present day, he would have been the #BlackPanther or the #WhiteShadow.

With a fix on your life and limb, you are the last man and last woman in the solar system

Make the Earth your home and propagate the seeds to make life grow and thrive, civilize

In concert with the origin of species which you are, keep that the occult mystery of flies

Maggots and spaghetti who thrive on the refuse and recycling of the wasted fuel’s orgasm.

Cleaned of the wrong-minded conclusions which follow from invalid premises’ deductions

Back to the origin of species when wonder about the matter and hunger, why such a pout?

Mortal or venial and possibly original, garden of Eden type of hereditary, witches potions

Compared to normal, as above so below, during a storm there’s turmoil within and without.

On the day when the souls of the faithfully departed who’ve rested in peace, quake the yard

Graves’ piles of muddy, rocky dirt begin to wave like the ocean surf does with tide inbound

Out of Mother Earth, living corpses rise because the undertaker hid bones in shallow ground

Inner peace in your neighbor’s hood, heart and soul, I’m all, criminally sane, praise the lord.

It is thrilling to say the least when you get scared and you know it’s pretend, as opposed to

Reality animates the body, bones, the emotion and until the heart ceases to raise an eyebrow

When it’s dead and gone, it deteriorates and festers into a subject, buried, creepy ghosts too

Backdoor slammed behind me but it opened up again, enter this monster of August ‘51 stew.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. MARDI, ROCKTOBER 30, 2018 @ 3:33 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Michael Jackson strut-slam-boogie on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/rmCA3qQkqso }

W.W.A.R.D.?