P H I L O S O P H I A

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

#UtterBLISS, #CheechChong #PrisonerSurprises

{ #HistoricalRecord of brothers who I loved #ForeverDave, #Hispanic, #Mex, #Chicano, #Jesus }

BLISS, #CheechChong PRISON PRIZE

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, November 14, 2018

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Midland or in the middle of the work, the art, the picture, the portrait, the #FakeNews

Before the time when you can’t breathe another gasp of #SmokeyTheBear’s hair blues

Burned brush and redwoods, cedars, spruce and whatever the #HellFire ate, It scrams

Consumed down to the rocks and the dirt, now like a moonscape satellite of God’s dams.

Picasso could not trumpet the coming, it wasn’t on TV or backfired radio news in the AM hail

It just came with people in cars yelling and screaming to “Move, get the #Phuque out my way

As if someone wanted to stay in one place and become consumed by hot fire sparks’ #Topgun

Invisible Man upstairs, give me a break, pray to who for what, man’s or gods’ good or evil fun.

Nobody knows anything for certain, including you professor know-it-all, you googled-it-all

A fool in the rain or the snow is a fool on the ground of being, a lease on one of God’s balls

Growing DNA from rampant RNA spinnin’ in circles, wobbling in an ecliptic ad infinitum

For your eyes and ears only, nothing to feel or touch here, smack the bad taste out my bum.

Giants cannot see the microscopic microbes, mitochondrial survival of the fit scum’s slime

Animated bone bags, calcified soft rock, bodies formed of an idea, a modal unit’s primetime

Of the mice and the women, the fish in the sea to shining sea, we get around the blue climax

Knowing that the end is near or far is not a panacea, bars and locked down in a prison #Max.

All you have for the punishment of the crime is the thoughts between your ears, inside a 6x6

Payin’ for the freedom you took for granted and threw it all away forever, incarnated dust sex

Gloves on hands, red duct taped wrists, boxing the 4 walls you got to beat your God incarnate

Time won’t heal any wounds beyond Space’s third day, you got an itch, so go #Scratch a date.

r j j stephan, i { *grati for the #header above the scroll Escuela Deportiva Pablopicasso }

c. BLOVEMBER 14TH, 2018 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

{ *drafted while listenin’ to a cranial pressure release listenin’ to the mighty Cheech and Chong historical cyber-record on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/iMYHEhyf_Rs }

W.W.A.R.D.?

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

#BlackOnBlue #BlueAndBlack #SoSorry #LiedToMe #MONEY

STRIPPERS, ROLL ME SOMETHIN’

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, November 13, 2018

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Could be beautiful and invisible at the same time, in stealth like a bomber ready to annihilate

From the pity of the rat-infested cities to the sorrow of the back-wood, dirty-road caliphate

Pills and salves on within and without the 208 bones of Adam’s Eve and the DNA star-trust

All Time in every Space is One and the same, nowhere and everywhere makin’ out holocaust.

Creation of two F-22’s, a raptor 412 million bucks each makes a 1/2 a billion buck shadow tax

Go to work and pay the piper, take it from your sweat and blood, to hell with your baby tears

Bombers and flying wings of flashing lights, back-engineered mothers not of this Earth’s men

What is it? What are they? X-15 shoes on my feet at 13, never wore out, taken, God’s whores.

Escort performing, #Underground nature of a Being, Earth’s your mother, it’s not your pop’s

F-18 #Skunks have an odor of bloody punks pretending to be tuned to invisible, cosmic gods

Numbskulls and intelligence merge into the bleeding river of nightmares and daydream stops

Wore a top hat and white gloves on the stage but naked as a j-bird in a rumble seat’s hotrod.

Greasing the gears to hide the naive, all too human fears, nobody knows everything ‘bout Life

In the river’s stream, playin’ the games in the right place at the wrong time, got to beat a wife

Not mine or yours but the wife of the guy in charge of the whole shebang, all-Broadway funky

Slippin’ in/out of dreams, creepin’ in the AM darkness, to find a dead-end ghetto OG junkie.

I shall survive alone and at one with the universe but I won’t have time to trump Hearts’ aces

Cards are dealt and I didn’t shuffle the deck, I didn’t cut the deck, I never knew divine faces

Could be beautiful and invisible at the same time, in stealth like a bomber ready to annhilate

My darkness without light consumed the moments I had laughing at the moon’s death fate.

It’s a burned out star, don’t shine or heat the bones and blood 186,000 miles away from here

A satellite of Earth’s status as Home of Android and Cellphones to communicate with Spock

Wandering and wondering with an evolved chain of lightnings central nerves, full faux-fear

From the get-go it’s Truth or fake Pride, be mellow, Hollywood be rollin’ bones off the dock.

r j j stephan, i { *header is a DNA mix of The Jezabels, here, now! Blind between the eyes! }

c. BLOVEMBER 13, 2018 @ 5:05:05 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Kool & the Gang #HollywoodSwingin & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/YK-cvcw3ngM?list=RDd-z2Kyiu0Nk }

<3 br="">

W.W.A.R.D.?

Monday, November 12, 2018

#CloseToMySpine #HollowAndNaked #SoulStrippers

MONDAY DREAM ON A CUFF LINK

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, November 12, 2018

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Forgot my top hat and white gloves, I’ve become nothing perfunctory, infallible or certain

My mind dreams outside and inside of things themselves and there’s electronic confusion

A prison with bars and solid steel doors cannot hold the spirit inside the bones of the Pope

Punks and derelicts all over my dream within a dream, doin’ dirty deeds with AC/DC dope.

Compared to yesterday tomorrow is an unknown, right here and now is past in a flinch

Why your mother and father conceived this life you’ve got, there’s no way to tell for sure

Probably an accidental crash of two heavenly bodies and disqualifying me, a tiny pinch

Putting Smash back in graveyard’s dirt, front of the fence or outback, deity kills the pure.

Beyond the burning fire of atoms in each star in the cosmos, there’s Nothing but fool’s gold

I don’t have any proof any more than anyone has any proof that there’s Life out there, oh Ga

Sisters and brothers mating, fighting, dying for no good reason at all, for the Karma on hold

Wings on my back are in use and I am not coming back to the nest to rest, swamp of the FLA.

Begin the life in innocent ignorance and end the same life with identical wisdom of a saint

Nothing to begin with and nothing to end with, not even a slight reward or rebuke for Evil

Alive is just a girl named Evil A. and that is all there is for real, who is that lady? She ain’t

Peach, apple, bean and animal fat goin’ in and out of the machine, your mama’s on the pill.

Extinction of the species is an act of contrition for being so mean in a garden called Eden

Where the First Lady named Eve, came before Christ’s mass, an anointed elf, Xmas twerp

Presents of unknown intent, to dupe receivers into longing for words up in a fountain pen

Pointed to the quadratic equation and the categorical imperative and I hear crickets’ chirp.

Smell and breathe the burned grass and wood, the pungent odor of dead dirt, a tornado spout

Alive in the fear and loathing inherited from the teachers, professors of faith in an Unknown

Without seeing or hearing the miracle presented, a blind faith is reduced to the only way out

Utter hopelessness, midgets smiling, universal faith in nothing at all, I think I’m overblown.

r j j stephan, i

c. BLOVEMBER 12, 2018 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

{ written while in inbred-audio-mating with the #Marconi on Talk 650 KSTE-AM & the mighty Armstrong & Getty givin’ opine re: gangland killing.....maybe they can learn from the draft of the WW I thugs from the #BigApple back in 1917? link iHeartRadio @ https://www.iheart.com/live/talk-650-229/ }