#WhoDoYouThinkYoureFoolin' @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

ME, SELF ET AL, NO THING AT ALL

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, February 8, 2019

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Pork and beans on the open pit fire, out on the prairie runnin’ the cows with the boys

Fell off of my horse and broke my neck and now I can just watch the roundup ploys

Of the hungry and thirsty ones who are not from Terra Ferma but from far, far away

In another galaxy on a parallel plane of existence, at the same time in another’s space.

Satisfaction is never guaranteed by anyone and should never be but the gods can do

Override my good judgement and go along the path of least resistance, where gods go

Above and below, beyond the sensory perception of a fake reality and a killer instinct

A soul, a conscious and ethereal essence of being nothing, what happens to be extinct.

Ripped into the system for the upgrades and updates, just for the hot scat, giggles and such

Indeed, it is what it is as it always is and then some, for what it’s worth, it’s a fake boondoggle

It being the nature of you, me and everything you see, what you feel, smell, taste and touch

Dam up over the Auburn Ravine and Forest Hill bridge, where steel-head fear to hatch roe.

I may appear to be crazy like a fox but I’m actually just a scavenger for the folly of hu-men

Not that the women don’t have any but I’m not down with their plight, red ridin’ hood hens

More or less right on the money, right time, in the right place and it’s bada bing bam boom

Buried bones, hatchets and rock and roll records, no reason known for a witch on a broom.

Magic spells and concoctions of powders and pills to mix up the simple mind of the genii sign

Completed and fulfilled as the stars move from birth to death, things alive, just for a slow-ride

Don’t get all uppity on me and become holier than thou either, looky here now, I ain’t lyin’

Monsoon, typhoon, volcano blown, UFO dash, time trippin’ a #Sugaree space’s scree n’ me.

Coaster rollin’ up and down the track gaining speed around curves, downhill to B-Neg blood

Before we all die we’ll know why we came on a no good God trip, a dead, opiate struggle bust

Punks singin’ and pluckin’, blowin’ poundin’ and mixin’ it for the polka hip hop of the hood

Daddies and mommies all tell us, beg, borrow and steal to survive, con game USA gold dust.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. February 8th 2019 A.D. @ 5:11 PM PST

{ drafted listenin’ to Lynyrd Skynyrd HITS live @ https://youtu.be/Mqfwbf3X8SA & https://youtu.be/UGKIX2_ViF8?list=RDUGKIX2_ViF8 }

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

#Batman #CageTheElephant #NoRestForTheWicked #MoneyDontGrowOnTrees #ThankYouVeryMuch #DaddiO

HERBS, SPICES, MORTAL SOULS & I

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, February 7, 2019

----------#LookoutBelow @MsThang ---------

On Earth, never content with naked ape hypotheses, where you want to be, here & now, free

Here and now is not for everyone who is conceived in love or misery, to be or not to be cool

A transitory state of being from a zygote, an atom, an ion to the predators who masticate me

I’m everything from a germ to an eagle on top of a pine tree, from nothing I come, gene pool.

Safari through the jungle of blackboards and internet grids, here to eternity and back again

Rhinoceros and hippopotamus were here before the men and women came to garden Eden

Kiss all of the blood sucking insects and remove the threat of spreading infectious diseases

Millions of people are dead because of the viruses and the bacteria, fleas, mosquitoes, ticks!

Pass out from the alcohol and shut down your liver, in time, you will die like the healthy ones

Only a bit sooner or later than an accidental termination, you and I will get the infinite’s sin

Eyes wide open, blinded by the light from burning gas, at the home of the #HighlandTiger

#TigerBlood runs in veins and gets the medicine to go down easy, teaspoons of extinction.

Do not believe me, check the facts if you can identify them, they’re abstract like your soul

Nothing really for the words to explain other than defining the nature of Unknowing, so

Winding dirt in a whirlwind, in a hurricane, a tornado twister, a typhoon, POTUS tycoon

Judge not lest ye be judged, who said that, who wrote that, who the phuq cares you goon!

Yoyos’ up and down the string of the im.W.A.R.D.perial or the butterfly, doin’ the swingin’ role

You might be wrong and you might be right, you’ve got to take a shot, out on the limb

Never broken because the One is not dissectable and that is a Void, a holy black hole

Freedom of jaguars to roam jungles to the desert, to eat the men, analog and digital kin.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday, February 7th, 2019 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

{ #Attenione written in a interwoven carbon-grid, grounded to the source of Earth’s EME & listenin’ to Powerful Joe Rogan Experience links BELOW HERE! }

W.W.A.R.D. ?

#AnnieCreepinIntoYourHead @LedZeppelin vs. @ArethaFranklin on the #FreewayOfLOve

ON BEING A RIGHTEOUS BUCK

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Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, February 6, 2019

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If you could see what I saw you’d hope for the rest of the wicked, incredible truths

Coming from out of nowhere, creeps comin’ out of the darkness of this dire farce

Chasin’ your spirit and tryin’ to slow it down so they can catch a quick bite of arse

Peelin’ eyes wide opened and insight for money growin’ on trees, wooden sleuths.

They were here before the light and they’ll be here when the lights go out, the dark Ones

It’s all a #Void that nobody alive can avoid, from a deception conception in a karmic sea

Persuading you and me to believe the blind faith of morons, idiots & sons of seventh sons

Unknown fathers, alien mothers, all dead and gone, left nothing but pain’s misery and me.

Both corners of my eyes in a cube, in a box, on a black board, on which a white man sings

Close your eyes for good one day or another, then you’ll see what millions have already seen

Dead souls resting with the rest of the wicked angels, all of them grounded without wings

Think about It, survival of the fittest, you must be related to the Best on this planet of kings.

Conceit and contentment will prevent ultimate survival, a moment from being a bitten byte

Inside a cyber-fade and movement of the rhapsody and concerto’s noted scales, trouble treble

No doubts for the stanza in askew mental funk, It is this, that and every other thing in a fight

Pretty girls and top dog boys, tip top of the apex of a money tree, wood on a teal blue marble.

Mouths to feed to animate the DNA meat of the balls and holes, try to make a move, it’s done

Robbed the banks, computer data download dump, all bytes bitten, swallowed White Dwarf

Black Holes cannot contain the entire Cosmos but the entire Thing is inconceivable, my son

Daughter, you too, walk down easy street, cash on a freeway, the Way is narrow, now I barf.

by

r j j stephan, i { header is #Chief }

c. February Sexth, 2019 A.D. @ 10:10 AM PST

{ #NeverYouMind #IGotPlentyOfTime #KeepRollinOn ...#slowdrafted while jammin’ & #DroppinThePedal in my #PinkCadillac to Aretha Franklin #RidinOnTheFreeway & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/AikdRRU3ow0}

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 W.W.A.R.D. ?