#ForegoneConclusions & #ForlornLonelyAndGenius

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MOMENTUM AND THRUST, COO-L

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, January 16, 2019 *

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Angels and doves can kiss and say goodbye because they know it’s only so long

Never goodbye because that is impossible not just highly improbable, like if 6 was 9

And then 54 would still be the same either way you’d multiply, adding to 15 or 69

Trouble is a slide into home and being safe, no doubt a score, a run on a hit song.

A bong along with a song and before you know it, Malibu and Oahu beckon the sky

Writing the word and the note to compose the repetition of chords and rhapsodies

An amazing fait accompli and a force to be reckoned with, not your usual kinda guy

No Popeye or olive oyl for the simple Alexander the Great salad, conquered eddies.

Black and blue on the green and yellow, orange and purple back down to red, #ricoSacto

Hunted and stalked for the sake of the herd’s health, tigers, lions, bears, fish, gators flow

All of the animated, living, killed for pelts and coverings over the privates’ party on Wayne

Garth too, the son of a farmer ‘s daughter, finds himself and me, upchucked Zomba glow.

Benign and positively, absolutely malignant at one and the same Time ala Space, pressured

On being the thing itself as opposed to the appearance of what the thing is, loved and adored

A stark reality in the middle of winter, spring too far beyond this twilight zone, just because

Some friends and relatives called you to be at their funerals but it was them at yours, #Cuz!

Dam A street blues on B street or E street, I can’t remember but it all felt like I got cheated

Paid for the saxophone and the bridge of sighs where whiskey flows over the fire, overheated

Billy or Richie doin’ what the bad boys do before they join the service to see the world US-ish

Before anyone knows it, you’re bendin’ over and kissin’ your hind end farewell, edit, publish.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi à 21h11; Un seize; Deux mille et dix-neuf Anno Domini *1-16-2019

{ drafted while listenin’ to #SlowRide by Kenny Wayne Shepherd band on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/b2FIpU3lgwA }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

@TheRollingStones @Slash @BBKing #GatheringNoMoss #TheThrillIsNeverGoneUntilTheSingularity

#LightEmIfYaGotEm #DontStopMan

SLUSH FUNDS AND 64 SQUARES

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, January 16, 2019

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Losers get it out of focus to disguise the Truth which is obvious and clear to the One above

Spirits of our ancestors or the origin of the species’ galaxy and universe, God of a banana

Awakened within the dream to know that this and that is but the hope of another, a love

What it’s like to be all alone? Jammin’ in memory of thin skin, I shreds my red bandana.

Changing the bushes and the salt water to be my canvas to be my artwork, a soup of glycerine

Movin’ the waves and tide because of the wobble and revolving around the planet’s orbiting

Star above, the sun of our origin, not Buddha or God or Guatanama or Zeus’ dad or mama

Pain and suffering a feeling or the nervous system, real until the brain turns it a Void drama.

In or out of a neighborhood, angry and charming, you see from the point of view of my screes

Punks, gentlemen too, ladies ahem, excuse me, there is no stalling when Scratch comes callin’

When my train’s gonna come is the day and the night you won’t see after sundown, capece?

My lights stay on all night long just in case I die during the night, someone will see my light.

It shines to the bottom of the rabbit hole and before it hits bottom, it disappears forth with

To be or not to be is never a consideration when survival of the fittest is the mantra of styth

It is always to be forever beyond the grave, beyond the dead bones and dried up black felt

Heaven above this planet surface but below down at the go-dang dying fire’s asteroid belt.

Too blinded by the light to ponder the sixteen moves upon the sixty four squares of misery

Got stuck in the muck and mire and couldn’t shrug it off, didn’t see it comin’ but a survivor

I was the Extinction and personal extinguishment of personality-spirit-soul function, clearly

Invested in the dream within the Poe-epic dream, appearances, forms, come and go Igor!

Bringing the life back into the dead dirt requires divine intervention, a Big Bang of red hair

Start from the fear of being eaten to the discoveries from fire to pottery to skyscrapin’ terror

Indulged for a reason or not, it becomes the harbinger of fathers coming to high heaven buds

In the foothill gardens and the High Sierra plateau, hops flowers bloom into green beer suds.

Emotional rescuing nobody but your mother’s souls and father’s fortunes, still out of control

Draining the putrid swamp of the deep, black water and the strangers show without a soul

No help from family, relatives distant or near, no friends or acquaintances, just the homeless

All alone on the corners and in the gangways, found on road dead, outside a city pool of cess.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Wednesday January Sixteenth, Two Thousand & Nineteen Anno Domini

{ OH Boy! ...drafted while listenin’ to the #StonesRolling #OutOfControl @The Rolling Stones & Derek Trucks & Susan Tedeschi & Ronnie Wood and Simply Red’s Mick Hucknall  #IMissYou #BridgesOfBabylon tour on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/CxlTx8mmJEA }

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W.W.A.R.D.?

#BigSmo #HonkyTonkin #BBQRibs #Tequilla #YourNeighbors

 
BEIN’ DIVINE TROUBLE’S BLUES

by

Richard Joseph Stephan  ·  Tuesday, January 15, 2019

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Shine on and bustin’ out tweets with the only way to act, Zeppelin death callin’ for you flakes

Life itself tried to move us both, deep down assault, we didn’t budge, we don’t partake, #Jake

Classes began in the middle of the semester, the teachers have called off the strikin’ wizards

Sisters of Charity and Mercy leftovers, Lords of Rings, platonic spoils, buzzkill of buzzards.

Perfect oddities from squawks of bald and golden eagles, a hit from heaven to rock bottoms

Dreamin’ in the middle of the day when all is well, everyone else is awake except my mind

It’s not my choice, I have no freedom to choose one way or the other, it’s a DNA coded kind

Force to be reckoned with if you’re a force of either one or another, good as a swayin’ totems.

Without reasonable doubt, bad blues keep track of the dirty, rotten river of tears on my flank

Coming just because the feelings are hurt due to the love withheld, the dastardly deceptions

From your woman, man, lover, mother, sister, brother but never, ever your father, sacrosanct

New year or olden days, back in my father’s fathers’ houses there were no rules, just my sins.

Benign scales and octaves of noted sounds of air through holes, my 88’s, 4, 6 or 12 axe strings

Makin’ the rhythm and rhyme to beat the meat into the holy soul-spirit of divine chantings

It makes you move when your mama and papa are long gone, all alone with no chess to play

There are no other options in the mix, on top of the world with the A-game, night & day DNA.

You’ve loved a woman or two, me too, it’s all I know, can’t love man, my mamas all satisfied

There’s no shame and it’s no sin to squeeze and be squeezed, sisters of human queen’s pawns

It’s what happens in a herd if you’re no hermit on a desert island, wishin’ ad infinitum dawns

Burning stars stone cold, the time being right, infants in doom with stardust dirt, God’s died!

by

r j j stephan, i {tm #LedZeppeliin}

c. Tuesday January 15, 2019 AD @ 4:44: PM PST

{ created from #Nothing listenin’ to ‘2’ hours of #SlowBluesBallads on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/J9fOs1wcEv0 & HITS of Led Zeppelin link @ https://youtu.be/nSceHXScQww }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?