#3DisasterInTheDesert @TheRollingStones #GotGreenMoss @Aristophanes

INTO WILD, OLD BLUE EYES’ SKIES

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, March 8, 2019

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Put yourself in the place where nobody else has ever been, without a roadmap, expect success

It’s willed to flow down from snow-capped mountaintops all the way down to gravity’s recess

Impolite to disregard the nature of the sophisticated ladies and gentle people, even some men

To have been made up with coloring powder and face of he purple people eaters in a lion den.

Finest lookin’ skeletons walkin’ around on the surface, swim only when bikinis drop derriere

Below the Mason-Dixon line or above it, a struggle to survive begins with a farmer’s daughter

Finally the struggles end as body clocks stop, Time halts in the Space warp, burnin’ god’s eye

If you haven’t tried it yet, there’s no way you will, shoot shots in the end, sunrise up, then die.

For the sake of all orphans in empty space, collapsed into a Void of sisters without mothers

Sons of men and mice, roaches and the lizzards, priests, nuns and outlaws of step brothers

Peace and War just two places for shotguns and pistols, amending seconds, boom boom-pow

In the clouds of the beauties and their ugly step-sisters, nothin’ to worry about, ebb and flow.

Every time there is a reason to bake the dough, we run out of the gas to burn, can’t bake it

Fire and ice is both the necessary and sufficient reasons to suspect that real things are not

Real that is, jackin’ your style and puttin’ my money where my mouth is, I bet you ain’t shit

Not because you don’t think you are, I know the ego I see clouding your vision’s blind spot.

Spectacular lights as above, so below the conscious awareness of the spirit, the soul of Ra

Inside of a body or the small fragments of mutated acid down in the dessert salt mines of Ga

Lies to the chief, naked truths broadcast to the urchins’ decaying carbon, botchin’ my revelry

At least we got to surf the waves, tan on the beach, had ecstasy to the very end, I lied to me.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. March 8th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:20 on #RichStephan’s my #1 son born on this day in 1973 A.D. & he and his brother remain my only two contributions to the #Herd of the #BeastOfBurden

{ *drafted while jammin’ to #HITS of the THE ROLLING STONES 2018 LIVE concert on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/9WqQyMsonQ0 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

Lady Gaga, Bradley Cooper - Far From the Shallow Now (A Star Is Born)

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhereDoYouThinkYouCanGo? #NowhereIsCloseEnough

A PRINCIPAL WITH #1 PRINCIPLE *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, March 7, 2019 

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March on, during the “Ides” I learned Francis Bacon was Shakespeare, he hacked the whiffs

Another Bill of lefts and rights, uppercuts and roundhouses to knock out the conscious stiffs

A quip or two to persuade my father that I was that smart-asse all kids and adults fads’ trends

Systematic dissolution of conscious thought and bodily extinction and decay, #Good offends.

Not just because I love to shock monkeys and make ‘em uncomfortable in caps of coonskin

But also because I myself, need to focus upon it a moment, an asteroid-spawned, fool’s mate

So here we are the 48th year after the booze-fest of teenage angst, drafted in a monkey’s bin

On a mission for the head or tail of the human putsch from the continental drifts, atomic fate.

Proof for the indefensible, undefinable and unbelievable, only you know like I know, misters

Not for a small reason, a big deal, this is a big, big deal, so what, who cares, not me, you do

Long stem roses are all history, no more flowers once in a while, once a year anyway, boo

Not something I’ve thought about much but I’d say I’ve traded gold for a thousand flowers.

Go out on the weekends until you need to go drinkin’ on the weeknights and drink before 6

Or after 6, AM or PM, amazing how the fire in the water becomes One with your DNA’s #Six

The exit and the entrance remain closed to the denizens of this Twilight Zone, like it or not

You’re stuck for nine innings, four quarters, three periods or just the duration of God’s plot.

They said we inherited this from the First ones who muffed up the perfection of blood rips

But why the progeny must pay for the sins of the fathers sounds like Slavery, indenturement

Standards for society of the twenty-first century written on the basement of pyramid crypts

Out of sequence in chaos’ disorder, I’m in Time’s Space, Will of asteroids the Big Bang sent.

by

r j j stephan, i { *Happy Anniversary to whomever may have had a #FalseAlarm in 1973 }

c. Thursday, March 7th, 2019 A.D. @ 1:11 PM PST

{ drafted while #Grovvin inside of the womb of the Void where #Wiseguys fear to go & listenin’ to the #YoungRascals #AllTheBest on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/-OJlfgSBNkY }

FINIS ECSTASY