@Underexposed @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

ALL GONE, SKIPPED SPACE & TIME

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, January 9, 2019

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Camel’s lips and tattooed hands of henna meet in dubious places in space, all for the humps

My humps, her humps all get atop the dromedary creating Andromeda infused data dumps

L.A. ladies and NYC hotties movin’ north to south from Chicago and on back to old CalExico

Mixed in exact order of explosion, first the outermost matter and then the nucleus of it blow.

Meeting with the dubious boss of the entire planet is silly, no meet or greet a queen or king

Son of a saint, a seamstress for a rock and roll band who traveled with Hubble’s Space probe

All of it y’all on a laser tape record player jute box, only thing certain is, ‘timing is everything’

Blown out pipes of exhaustion, rocked me to tears, shot hoops and diamonds on the ear lobe.

Tigers whether male or female do what cats do, kill and eat, reproduce and sleep and fight

Naturally it is what it is to be a cat whether in a cave, a tree or in a suburban cottage sight

Beautiful in the mirror of a blind man is as pretty as the darkness before atoms gotta blow

I ain’t drunk, I ain’t high, I’m educated to 16th grade, rest in peaceful history, make no foe.

I want to blow you away but if I do you won’t read this diatribe all the way to the bitter end

Where you’re meant to go but will never get to unless you keep steppin’ out, ‘round the bend

A lick means nothing other than you’ve got salt and bacteria on your palms and finger tips

Get over it gangsters, gold teeth and blood on the asphalt to look at my lost traces of ships.

Ones that sailed away in the night and never seen again on the face of Earth, I am one of ‘em

Not a reward but just a pathway down the center of the farm, the ranch or tiny town of them

Right down centerfield’s two-way street, caution, peaceful wind, blowin’ stops, mortal sinnin’

Grapo changed to vino at the right time, licked the henna off of camels, the pine & the wine.

One way or another, we’ll give them something to talk about one way or the other, huddle up

We’re goin’ right over the top into the end zone, there’s only ten seconds left, just get in step

One, hut two...hut hut...hike, passed, touchdown, we win, it’s a hustle for a thing camels love

To talk and to feel deeply in and out of it, I loved, I licked, eclipsed my solo flight, a cut above.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Wednesday January 9th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:44 PM

{ drafted while jammin’ to the Eagles #Legacy #TheLongRun & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/QyUW98ROjbk }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#LowJack #Bulletproof

BULLETPROOF, LOJACK HOMELESS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Wednesday, January 9, 2019

ssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Taillights are all I saw as my wheels drove away from my sight, a handshake, an odd ass’ kiss

I found the skeleton stripped on down the road behind the red barn and low-ball snow drifts

My soul dropped and my head nearly blew up like a room full of TNT’s holy, red-hot sparks

Sitting back, picking and grinning about the rhapsody’s melody, homeless in Chicago’s parks.

Cruising for bruising, coasting for slides along, no beat goin’ on, yet I rule it, a Main squeeze

All nothing, when you stop breathing, your heart stops beating, your eye balls stiff in a freeze

All of your muscles, bowels trained by the civilized culture go slack, last memory of this chit

A lingering odor of fecal matter, meat and cheese processed for life on the third stones spit.

Gas moved into liquid and solid, an evolution of the solar flares of hot, blown, atomic mass

Leaving the light and the heat in the wake for the waif to swim in and ponder fusion’s glass

All that’s left when atoms fizz or fuse into the thing itself, Oh Popeye of God, Olive Oyl is hurt

Eating me spinach just because it’s green, full of vitamins’ minerals, we kissed the filthy dirt.

Ragamuffin’s and waifs ruling the streets, homeless street urchins abandoned by mom’s pop

In line for the soup and the hot, fresh bread to fill the empty heads and bellies of the top crop

Children born and raised to keep the Earth rockin’ and rollin’ around the ecliptic, infinity’s Id

Animated from One state of being, at One until a Nova consumes this fake, holy, atomic grid.

Lies told to the children to pass on as the Truth of the ancestors become a sacred saga’s fuss

Unbelievable, incredible and not ready for prime time, revelation that emptiness is Void of us

Nobody, nothing exists where there’s no gas, no air, no matter, no energy, roll away the stone

Holy cave, radicals put games in the ground of being, holy hole cracks open, boned to BONE!

by

r j j stephan, i #GTFOOH

c. Wednesday, January 9, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ drafted while jammin’ to Cypress Hill #PutEmInTheGround & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/nNyDk4Q503M }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

@MrBean #ricoSacto

IT’S A DISGUISE FOR THE UNSEEN

by

Richard Joseph Stephan * Tuesday, January 8, 2019

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Thank the powers that be, whomever and/or whatever they may be, I understand, I survive

Nothing on Earth, above or below the sun, a feeling called Fear within me, blowin’ my soul

Never will be anything to beat or eat me other than myself, even when I’m only half alive

Maybe I’ll change someday like ma and pappy did, way down that 6 feet deep black hole.

Be afraid more than you’ve ever had to before because to meet your demise isn’t a dream

It really happens, you die, I die, we all die eventually, like every other mortal of the Elohim

No wings, no bodies, invisible souls, out of their minds, in one ear and out of the other Jam

Pulling wool over your eyes, die as sheep, an epileptic flash blindness, a sacrifice of a lamb.

I don’t do the dozens but if I did, she’d be the one in the corner with the combats boots on

Nothing wrong with that if you’re in comic mode of breakin’ rules and laws, be in on the con

Pulling wool over eyes just like the sheep, causes immediate flash blindness, angels please!

Lucky you, we made it to Earth, we learned to survive, hate to die now but my heart’ll seize.

As soon as I set my eyes on the object of my desire and intent of my attention to the thing, It

Whatever you want to call it in any language or signals of the drawings or letters, hunter chit

How we survived without being eaten or burned or drowned, only God or Ala knows for sure

Copacetic as a fool on a hill, up a creek with no paddle, balls and bears hit jackpots’ red color.

Underneath the teflon armor there is the blood, skin and bone of the little one grown into big

For the black magic or the red devil, it all comes down to this, back turned on the only origin

All of this came from One thing, what it is, what you call it makes a little bit of difference but

Either black magic spells or blind luck of being in the right place at the right time, mystical!

Rhythm and beat merge into a song from horns, drums and steel strings’ amplified riffs

Chords of flats, sharps, major, minor, seventh and diminished, all help to express the One

Seven notes, seven octaves puts the forty nine places in this space time, no jumpin’ off cliffs

It’ll be over when it’s over, no reminisce routine for the dead and gone, be the Golden Dawn.

by

r j j stephan, i { #EyeAmNotBatman }

c. TUESDAY JANUARY 8TH, 2019 @ 3:33 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to some amazin’ CARLOS SANTANA #Europa & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/JAsfAuvFvh8 }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?