#ThirdOfTheFirstOfTwoZeroNineteenAD

GIVE A RAT’S BEHIND, STICK IT!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, January 3, 2019

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Livin’ in a van down by the river on a Thursday at 7:11 AM, fully armed before the cock crows

Motivation to be satisfied with the fact that you pay for the things you consume, by working

Labor of blood, sweat and tears of your forefathers, absentee fathers and mothers of mating

Deep thought is not required in your repertoire, wear your baseball hat backwards, albinos!

Now, get past the hot tip above and you’ve still got holes in your Dumbo ear lobes’ holy skin

Cauterize the wounds of the saviors who rise above the loudest mouths, stars, stripes, gunnin’

The most toys in possession of the degenerate genome which is the fission and fusion of Mum

You know the girls that raised us become what we are, holy garbage in garbage out, ho hum!

Now then, all educated with the logic and reason, the high metaphysics of wisdom, hear that?

Keepin’ whose hands off of my property, my right to possess and bear, a revolution to begin

Shell shock and battle fatigue come in handy when you’re at war, operational exhaustion sin

A little thing called #PTSD ,a post traumatic stress disorder, a Vietnam GI love of country scat.

Landfill of the garbage inside and outside of your heart and soul, become your preconception

Prior to mothers’ pregnancies, religion from East to the West, concealed divinity in clear skin

Soul and mind, spirit of the condition of being, moving, animated DNA out of nowhere above

As below, maybe an illusion or dream within a Poe dream, guest appearance, die white dove!

Pass away from death do I part, I shall expire, life throttled me by the throat, I choked a byte

I swear I shall overcome the impossibly illogical tendency to survive when death is inevitable

Narcistically speaking, without me here and now, I don’t care what happens to a world’s balls

Start at origins of ignorance, collect a compendium of fear’s mythology, now you know It all.

Revolution against the Big Brother that nobody knows even exists at all, that is God’s Truth

Ten or seventeen Rights on the written word of humanity, the pretenders awake, we all alone

Inside or outside of seven continents above the saltwater of the fish in the sea, I am uncouth

Uncivilized and enculturated with being a skeptic of the patronized eyes of rods and cones.

by

r j j stephan, i #MolonLabe Moxy Molonlabe

c. Thursday January 3, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ drafted while improving my self-esteem in tune to the inspirational #GeorgeCarlin standup on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/h6wOt2iXdc4 }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhatWouldAynRandDo #WWARD #LoveMyBaby #ImHerLittleLoverBoy #Happy2019Yall

20/20 DIRIGIBLE’S HINDSIGHT

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, January 2, 2019

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Forks in the road is where we come to in the end, comedy or tragedy, One returns back home

Not to the town or the country, the city or the territory but to the Origin of our soul genome

In or on the land and sea or in stealth mode through the ether’s gas bubble of air, deep Hole

Inside our outside of it is everything else other than you and I, It is in Jersey, in #Freehold.

Compared to the #ACME, your grocery and department store pale in comparison, oh #Deli

I smell salami and ham sliced to perfection, fresh bread out the oven, over river from #Philli

Utter distraction with parables and recollections of a young child’s mind, to be alone, skipper

Now that I’m all over it and done with altar boys from Valhalla, I’m just Hades’ philosopher.

It can and must be 2019 A.D. since everything is the same as it was yesterday, trouble is hers

That to be or not to be is NOT just a question out of a hundred, it’s the only one that matters

If the essence of wisdom is to know the nature of being and to act, move with direct intention

Then I consumed that essence the moment my mother decided to NOT abort my zygotic sin.

Performing in my own act on my own stage for the seven decades, I cry to return ignorance

To the creator of the Void, the creator of your momentary experience of Earth independence

In the funk of your recollection, categories of the form and matter of atomic neutrino quarks

Coming, going, sinking, swimming in Cosmic stew goddess and full of #Dead’s ripple sparks.

Punks from the inner cities broken homes, fatherless children’s skin and bones animate dust

From simple minds, repetition bred the followers, dependents of the welfare state’s disgust

You and I will discover the Truth in the end, bitter or welcome, it’s going to come to hide out

In shoes, boots, sandals or moccasins, row your boat, dreaming now? My intent, #NoDoubt !

There is no question that you and I speak to a hard piece of metal that replaces wasted faces

Ones you used to speak with and look at, now it’s a flat-screen or just sounds from no places

For the sake of the ancestors, recollect the reason why you’re here, #FullMonty accidentally

Get ready for the emptiness and force of gravity to take your bones down, burn, #dillyDilly!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi 2 janvier 2019 après J. -C. 9 h 11, heure normale du Pacifique (HNP)

{ drafted while kickin’ through a bog of fueled intensity that you’ll never know & listenin’ to #BigSmo & Upchurch 2019 link @ https://youtu.be/nzDTFYwV7MY }

W.W.A.R.D. ?

@TheTemptations #Papa Was A Rolling Stone 1972 Single Version

#POLICE & @HomelessWhiteKnights !

by Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, January 1, 2019

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

It is the time and the place in space to put the pedal to the metal, hammer down Mex-Texas

Or Iowa or Ohio, it redux of the rerun for the minions’ predilection for the Perfect, infectious

Bringin’ home the bacon to get the home-made enchiladas in foil, cat food and a kill instinct

Empty, bombed-out structures that used-to-be hospitals, schools and churches now extinct.

Magnetic waves, infrared and cosmic stellar amusement and the trouble is you’re a pawn

On and off of the thirty-two squares of the playin’ surface of the black and the white Dawn

From the monkey man mind without a care other than food, shelter and protection of God

In the emptiness of the darkness a deal is struck with the devil inside you and me, full blood.

Down to me, down to you and down to the smoke that rises from the burning, funeral pyre

Pumped up and jammed down into the ash from which it all comes, stardust, fool for hire

I don’t care that you don’t care, yet you read on hopin’ for the catch of the day, rollin’ a rock

Funeral and burial, incineration for all two hundred eight bones, all under my thumb, phoQ!

Don’t trip just because you are more holy than I am, I was a Catholic altar-boy, 13 years, a lad

Then the Force educated me on the actual #reality behind Ma and Pa and a military bunk bed

Pink sometimes but mostly lonely and blue, just in time to listen to boogaloo, midnight’s spec

Gambler and pawn shop, dealer of the cash to burn, bet you’re right when you’re a bluff, dick!

Ramblin’ with the spirits and souls, around in circles from lucky day to sad, good day in hehl

Wind blows four or more ways, depending on the trajectory of the matter in the space, I fall

Shroomy Cow and Alice’s #Vunderland hole, I and you in gravity collapse, we’re singularity

Rambling around the block in a Hearse or a Rolls or a Volkswagen in or out of this reality.

After the last breath you gasp for, right after that moment right there, that there, this here

All of it means little or nothing, I should have been, I would have been, I could have been

Features of the creatures that look like forms made of shapes of plastic, pig iron and steel

Compared to this thing itself you see, alternative reality has nothing to do with human zeal!

Downhearted and drained of the tiny bit or two of microscopic particles, angry atoms I am

Changed now and I am in total control with the will of the One at the helm, Lord helped me

Which Lord you wonder? For you my friend, to find out and I’ve got no say in the guy’s scam

Just remember, it’s a choice, your choice, you can be wise or foolish, a heavenly body #Slam!

Lonely and finished with the wonder of the surviving with the fittest amongst us, we survived

We never became the food of the carnivores, the bone-yards have our remains, our soul freed

From desire and need of the breaths you and I are takin’ right now, in and out, borrowed Time

It’s almost out the moment it becomes conscious of itself, a matter, a force of cosmic slime.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. 1-1-2019 Mardi @ 7h11 Hors de contrôle

{ drafted while #CatchinAWave to The Rolling Stones #OutOfControl & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/MHlxGg0QIqE }

W.W.A.R.D.?