#WildHorses #WhatADrag @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

ALIVE EYES LOOK, ZERO-VISIONS *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, March 17, 2019

---------------------------

Barking at the moon’s reflected light from dead stars does nothing for the Pope’s holy Void

Just smile for the same effect, Nothing special, nothin’ gained from an unabashed android

Empty and without matter, without energy, no mass singularity implosion of all seven seas

A tool used and abused from the first rock to the last stone, sticks don’t work on my bullies.

Pointed heads and pointing fingers leave my dream as empty as a holy plastic bag, all’s blown

In the wind, down the street, overhead, underground way below the depths of despair’s own

Summers, winters, ad infinitum St. Patrick’s day of the smashed snake and great, ocean flood

Impossible useless data, induced deductions, evil/live vampire sucklings drink purple blood.

Protein, for the life of the cells DNA and RNA and then there’s C6H12O2 kills It, prematurely

The Gas in a form of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen will turn off the #Work, the #Cells agree

Animated matter, solid liquid and solid gas perform the circus of the sun’s light and thunder

Dug deep down near six feet but the box is three feet thick, therefore, we’re only 3 feet under.

A trail on a path goin’ down a long road to the end of the line is empty, no boots ever’ve tread

No moccasins or sandals, high heels or gym shoes can coverup the nails and toes-up, undead

You breathe now but you won’t at some moment in time, the day after you stop, you’re done

Nothing left to be sorry for, no planning of the future or pining over the past, Presence, Son!

Probability’s high that you’ll die, just like your parents’ folks and every life alive, stun-gunned

When your breath leaves one last time through your face, mouth’s agape, paid a graveyard fee

Revolutionary beans planted in the ground of Be-ing by travelers and warriors, abandoned

Time’s up for this trace of space, to live and to die for, empty, holy, caput moment, a century!

by

r j j stephan, i { *Pickin’ & Grinnin’ your praise of #TheLoad, #TheStruggle to survive! }

c. Sunday March 17, 2019 A.D. @ 7:61 AM PST

{ drafted while jammin’ to Gov't Mule hits on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/A13tUxH09SI }

W.W.A.R.D.?

@Audioslave feat Dave Grohl at Chris Cornell Tribute Concert, 'Show Me Ho...

W.W.A.R.D.?

Follow Me

INSIDE OUT OF THE VORTEX

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, March 16, 2019

-------------------

Utter hopelessness and your godmothers and fathers is the catfish hole, a noble holler

Wherein these words enter your cranial cavity and your mind wraps around the star

Horsewhipping’ comin’ down the pike to a neighborhood near your city-country trysts

If and only if you are an idiot, a moron or a nutcase then you will take offense at this.

On the way back to the barracks from the doctor and dentist I fell in love with signals

Stop, slow and go at corners or for jaywalkin’ stone-agers, ate a savior’s human genitals

Without iced cream, our world doesn’t rock n’ roll around the sun’s ecliptic, killed dead

Death is already gone and you might not like it, this eternal immortal being is voided.

Revolving and repeating, automatic and systematic, a function of the calculus instead

To be or not to be in this material world of rock and dirty star debris, gods’ dams dead

Dreaming on Saturday night, I thought it was real but then I awoke with a foot cramp

Rolled out of the rack, rested in the room, hit the streets and boulevards, lick a stamp.

Steeped in the vat of gas you breathe in and out, it’s a prank call to your mama’s kids

They know you when they see you but they have no idea where you’re at, row of skids

Off of the corners, in the gangways where angels fear to go, boys use foul, pig squeals

Complete smokin’ of #MrPickles, hunger and thirst aside, waving yeller banana peels.

Burned, buried, lost at sea or inside a volcanic eruption of the planet’s hot, rock soup

Around in circles or from point A to the infinite point at an end of a right angle’s line

Consumer of the Word, there you are you liar, call me and I’ll put your foot in a stirrup

Stepped in it more than once, smellin’ like the putrid smoke of refused matter, mine.

Naked but still alive and hungry for the food to continue the trip around the One down

Second, third and fourth down’s notwithstanding, it’s a perfect game, a shut-out clown

Mothers and fathers of the malformed, maladjusted homo sapiens, rest in empty peace

Where there’s no sights or sounds, feelings or smells, Vortex sucks, God’s highest priest.

by

r j j stephan, i ....if the mountains tumble into the sea, bada bing bada boom, that’s all!

c. Saturday March 16, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to TheDrifters #StandByMe & #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/YaqjpfZJjpk }

W.W.A.R.D.?