#DrySkin #WetSkin #MySkin #StaySkinny #NoButtsBoutIt #runawayJane

THAT IS ALL THERE IS Y’ALL *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan  ·  Monday, March 18, 2019

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Make the world? Not even close for the denizens of Earth, you are a speck and I am even less

Now you’re scaring me! I have a relatively large ego and I am more than a speck, I’m a soul

In a black hole maybe nevertheless, just a deep, empty void of nothingness, before the Words

At One moment of Nature’s First Cause, Oneness splitting as an atom’s split into two worlds.

Under a microscope, invisible to human eyes, things are alive and moving to and fro in doom

Off of the books in your mother’s womb you go, from nowhere to here and now, badaboom

If and only if you know what happens after the living things die, you’ll know fate’s holy Life

All lives matter for certain, it’s a balance of the good and the evil of the beautiful, loving wife.

If you write a book that nobody reads, was that really a necessary reason for living? Just die!

There’ll be nothing but a rock above ground above a metal or cardboard box, nobody too high

Conditions are ripe for the fruit on the vine to be picked and sucked dry of it’s mineral hiccup

Up and away from the ground of being, the chatter ceases, the blame, the obligations fade up.

Pretend you are on your last ten breaths of life for a moment, you can return to home insane

Jumping into a deep end is better for your head, no pressure sub-surface, deal top of the deck

As above the #ThinBlueLine, so below the #PlanetCore, academics prowl for purpose in vain

Utterly One, being this thing itself completes this imaginary, logical, circular insanity of pain.

Back down to conscious, consciences inside the things themselves, imagine you in a vacuum

In the jungle where bugs and cats want to eat you raw, without the fire, survivors in the ice

Frozen brain in a survival mode without a cerebral cortex, not a naked ape girl or boy person

Halfway house crows sqwaukin’, shoppin’ cart thieves, rollin’ & rottin’ in a Man’s fake prison.

Be born for a reason or none at all, die for a reason or none at all, this makes sense to whom?

If there was no reason to be conceived, there’s no reason to live since inevitable death says it

We’re #Scroomed and that is screwed and doomed together and #AtOne without fake doom

It’s the real one, souls go there, nothing moves, nothing twists, emptiness’ tryst loves #Chit.

by

r j j stephan, i { * THE last flash you’ll see B4 your own lights go out! Enjoy! Bon appetite! }

c. 3-18-2019 A.D. Lundi @ 7:47 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Nickelback #IfTodayWasYourLastDay & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/lrXIQQ8PeRs?list=PLKE4WpGi4wJoTONZB19Iu6a-F3klNJ8yL }

W.W.A.R.D. ?

#CanYouBuyYourOwnDrinkMyDaughter? #MamaRockMe

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WildHorses #WhatADrag @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

ALIVE EYES LOOK, ZERO-VISIONS *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, March 17, 2019

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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.?