WTF do YOU think you are? #AllDayMusic

SLIPPIN’ A DARK MATRIX @BigSur

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, April 9, 2019

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Go there yourself and you’ll find the end of this world, the one you’ve been in since birth

Completely open to the elements of sun, sea and this earth down here in an overland heart

Roots of the seeds blown from the Void where angels fear to go, a self loathings’ trauma fit

Centuries of days and nights since a #HarveyWallbangers effect, drove drunk, ended all of It.

That which it is, this proper or personal word, this noun that signals the virtue of a deity

Good that made the Bad and the Ugly is responsible for the effects, no free will there, see?

It is a predetermined fact of life, what is was always what would have been with or without

You and I and everyone else to have been born and killed on this plane’s terminal fallout.

Assuming you avoid murder and terminal disease of organs or mind, take a deep breath son

Let your daughters know, if your fortune allows you to be the xy zygote from neverneverland

That they are a link in the chain of infinity, broken or in tact, the chain remains the One’s fun

Think about it all before it’s all gone, it will be, it is on a diamond beach, fictional white sand.

Rolling on thin ice, diggin’ a jackknife into the stump of redwood trunk, life’s evil, nutty tree

Reaching deep into the ground of being at ends of the roots’ sprouted seeds, you gotta go see

Finished off the fifth on the sixth in the bottom of the ninth, if you know what I mean, hiccup

Mind over matter, it’s the edge, a Void’s disappearance means that God’s dead, now giddyup!

Water, gas, rocks animated by spontaneous combustion, gravitational collapse and so forth

Become all there ever was for you and I, our relatives before and after our existential worth

Extinct species of all plants and animals which were moved by the Earth’s fortunate wobble

Gas, liquid and rocks rollin’ down cliffs of Big Sur, #InAndOut suckin’ spunk out the bubble.

Outside of the ebb and flow of the tidal waves, above and below the laws of an infinite being

A cranky, empty clump of sticky buds without the bang, without the bite’s of sweet nothing

Come to the center and come to the outer edge of the twilight’s zone, either way, neither will

Searched and found my miraculous awareness, my finite end is an Unconscious’ fake-thrill.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mardi, April 9th, 2019 A.D. @ 1:11 PM PST

{ drafted driftin’ & #SlippinIntoDarkness with WAR THE BAND & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/y_fr_F1jWj0 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#ItAintMyFaultEither #DontLookAtMe @ricoSacto #ricoSacto #LogicAndReasonGone #StonedForSurvival #WeedWhiskeyAndWillie

JUST DANCE TO THE POLKA *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, April 8, 2019

sssssssssssssssssssss

My mother’s and father’s house in the Portage Park, a #Polka where angels can’t exit the city

They are long gone, way gone, bodies dead and buried in the holy cemetery of marble signs

Who tripped over the welcome mat a hundred and two times, home on Berenice’s back alley

A place of beefs, dogs, fries and dead fish by metal smelting for iron horses, #MustangsSally.

Mama and papa of me and another5, OMG’S and OM's in a century of surprise package fates

Nothing ever recollected regarding the choice to be here and now to test DNA’s #Hottie dates

Merging the complex and simple yields nothing in particular, everything in general, the mass

It is what makes a foundation for the locomotion of the energy infused, all too human, I pass.

In a game of cards, dice or betting on the odds against your hunches, when you lose, it’s done

Nothing stolen on the line, to be a baseless guess, though educated, 99% certain-lust for one

A theory of everything perceived, conceived and adapted to the host to survive as a genome

To lie and cheat are the tools of the losers, there are many nevertheless, heroes’ triumphs.

Tough cookies are just fine because they turn soft in my double espresso cups’ sewer overflow

Thinkin’ that the water comes from the lakes and streams which come from mountain snow

Water’s the rain that fell to Earth, Ma’s easter-egg of DNA’s grandsons via @SonnyStephan

Without breath, heartbeat or emotion, It’s merely a chimera without meaning, It is #1&done.

You and I can’t care much longer than we realize in a moment, this dream’s a twilight zone

Is a microcosm of the entire universe’s conscious addiction to consummation of burned bone

Silver-Gold are leftover survivors in the #Struggle to survive my taste in wasted, burned H2

Worms eats bad food, be bad, predators will scavenge, get started tasting blood, OK lunatics?

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Lundi, April 8th, 2019 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to @OsbornBros HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/8JjDHqZpdCg?list=RD78BWyNSQ4m0 }

*Header is ‘moi and Mrs. Incognito’ on the porch at 5912 W. Berenice Av, Chicago, IL 60634 #SheLovesMe #Champions link for Queen @ https://youtu.be/wrlm8srgL3Y }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#MonstersAreOverdue #TwilightZoneBest

I APPRECIATE THAT, NOW GO! *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, April 7, 2019

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We all have come to an understanding and an expectation of good behavior, hillbilly in theory

As if you were raised by the categories of rulers’ bishoprics sustained by rational chicanery

Nobody knew it, that’s just the way it is, the way it’s always been since air bit the dazed One

Drinkin’ in the air for tomorrow’s work, labor of loving mothers and fatherless children sons.

Here is the left over bone to pick, there’s a presentation of the issue and an immediate choice

Repair damage or completely destroy the unit’s union, we be kinda rockin’ hard to bone skins

Burned rope instead of makin’ square knots to keep the ship-shapely Rolls Royces from ruins

Blown trumpets and beaten tom-toms get the rhythm in sync with the blues of girls n’ boys.

Acculturated and clueless to the end games’ purpose for winning the games, sick to death

Of human beings’ moving about the seven continents, regurgitating the anti-matter breath

Five or six senses in play, uncoordinated into mass confusion and a recollection of dreams

Innocent nightmares and an adult’s day-mares remain, eastern eggs beaten, at-One creams.

Pole to pole and 360 degrees around the equator, 24,901.55 miles or 40,075.16 km, so long

It’s a long way around the squashed, burned out cluster of metallic, cosmic dust in any bong

A tube to light a bowl of crushed plant chlorophyll and inhale the burned fuel’s ashen flirts

Six feet under to avoid the consumption of organic remains, long sweaters and short skirts.

Luck or intention of the will, that and this over here are comin’ from the same place in space

Nowhere beginning there, going nowhere and actually getting nowhere fast, to save my face

Because I am proud of pretending that I know everything when I don’t, it’s all false fake news

The boy who cried wolf was sorry when the wolf came to bite and chew him, jeopardy clues.

Mercy has much to do with the whole shebang, it is the meaning of life as a human, acosmic

Absolute zero as the function of the calculus, motion as a variable equation’s solution is sick

Laying lower than the snails’ trails, going around the outside of the 40? Maybe, maybe not

Light speed unsupressed travels in straight lines until gravity bends the shape of I, the robot.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Sunday Gabriela-ish April 8th, 2019 A.D. @ 08:08 PM PST

{ *drafted in silence and rewarded with some Jeffersonstarship #Jane & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/6dfih0hdLTw?list=RD6dfih0hdLTw }

*FB Header of this jam is an image of a zig-zag digitized cranium!

W.W.A.R.D.?