#WordsToSay #NoneOfYourBusiness #Weezer #Coachella2019

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THINK DREGS, #COACHELLA FUEL

 by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, April 14, 2019

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Yeah, that’s me thinkin’ about bein’ underground, under a stone, my head’s busted, nothing

Why I came and where I went after the bones quit movin’ is the question for the once living

I am what I am, it is dead to you and your friends, your relatives, both dead and alive now

Present time’s space and in the future Space of the Past, I dreamt of a comical, Cosmic crow.

Waiting every day and night to resurrect myself and become erect for the DNA spigot spout

But something is missing, I think I know what it is but it’s impossible to know if you’re alive

Everybody and everything that lives must die, it’s the required progress of returning to Void

Recollect before your Ma & Pa conceived your DNA combo? No foolin’ Odin, Zeus or Lloyd!

Call it what it is, a miracle of spontaneous combustion of acidic essence of The Cell, The One

It’s always One for All and All for One, like the Three Musketeers, troubles for One are Many

Insignificant, invisible, undeniable plethora of a smoke, a film, no memory of host, it’s worse

A Being alone in Space, spinning clocks’ Time axis's Space of Earth’s body, I’m a starburst?

Back to the grounds of being under the rock of stone ages, no sound, no sight just stone cold

Demons of the republic’s social system want to excrete the genome back into the DNA pool

To mix the menudo back into the hodge podge mess of revolution of the masses to con itself

Into masticating and digesting the enculturation inherited from gypsies, tramps and thieves.

My name’s not as important as the factoid that my father impregnated my mother by surprise

There was no invitation to mate or to gestate for 9 months in the darkness’ warm, black hole

Where you think you can go if you get to a threshold of the #EventHorizon, matter turns dark

Squashed into a Singularity where I’m all of It, One God’s ‘FX’, a stoned philosopher’s snark!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. April 14th, 2019 A.D. @ 6:66 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to #LIVE #Coachella2019 with the other 3 & a half zillion snarks on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/bAS_E1D0UXw }

FINIS

#InstantaneousKnuckleBalls #HellICantRememberWhereImFrom - @JonothanWinters { after being struck by lightening on the way to the @JohnnyCarson show ROTLMAO }

NOTHING’S IN THE PICTURE *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, April 13, 2019

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DNA is one thing and Nothing is the absence of everything, it ain’t so, atomic anti-matter

No past, present or future timing of the revolutions and orbits’ of souls higher, much holier

Than thou and thine neighbors, crazy mothers of fathers showed the way, basic pullin’ train

Gravitational collapse into the corpses all up and down the scales, played the music insane.

My gas’ mix must be without cosmic dust, it suffocates bronchial tubes’ mitochondrial draw

To breathe in and out the wrong mixture on Earth is akin to breathin’ moon atmosphere raw

That I am here and now is a miracle in itself, the fact that I’m able to elucidate nothing’s face

What I will is what becomes the reality, alive and well in front of my eyes, songs and Grace.

Not as lonely as it appeared at first, the measure of the excitement is the flying of the time

It is merely the paying no attention to the passage of the things that age with Earth spins

It all makes sense in some bizarro world where everybody does something for nothing at all

Dreamin’ of runnin’ around in circles to pretend that Life will mean something, oh, The Fall.

Therefore, assuming that DNA and RNA on Earth are a spontaneous result of the Big Bang

Nothing more or less to say than that, One take away one leaves None, that’s it sweet thang

Shoot a messenger for the e=Mc2 equation, it ain’t my fault that Love’s a sight for sore eyes

It’s the Charm and Quarks that will show the way to the mind over shit-babies wales & cries.

Reflected in the mirror, the glass of the watery surface of cess, are you kiddin’ me loose-lips

We and the UFO aliens who never mix it up with us since they’d be warping the Time slips

If and only if you have been moved by logic and reason to the inescapable ends, dead ones

Symbolic Ends and Means, desperate in fear and loathing, holy souls’ 12-gauge shotguns!

by

r j j stephan, I *Header is a DNA strand, what you’re made of if you’re a fool or not!

c. Saturday April 13th, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 PM PST

* drafted listenin’ to Everlast #Ends & #chit on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/MjiMqeD-lrs

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

W.W.A.R.D.?

#SunRefusedToShineToday #SeeItNow #SacredCumLaude

A SURFIN’ PILL, A PONY & WAHINI *

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, April 13, 2019

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It’s finally a done deal, the statue of limitations has passed and it’s safe to shout it to herds

I’m so proud of the facts of life I’ve been privileged to discover before my last day over here

In a very delicate space, everywhere I step, everywhere I roll, anything can happen, my dear

Not being condescending with that said, it’s a terminology acceptable only with last words.

Lazy in New York City and busy in Los Angeles, runnin’ from Chicago to the sanctuary loop

Where all of the huddles masses go back and forth from the lake shore to the suburbia, poop

Not because anybody is evil or bad, it’s just that the Good has shared the wealth with the Ugly

Children of rice and corn, amused, holy farmers and city slickers, we all, hella giggity giggity.

Colloquial speculation of a time after death and before birth, is a chimera of a neighborhood

We call it God as in God is good, the Earth, the Moon, the Sun and all stars in my holy blood

Look outside of the box you’ve found reading the words that point to the essence of a slave

It is indeed, the treasure inside of the empty chest of inherited heirloom writing in a cave.

If you knew what you really don’t want to know, it would kill your verve and will to be happy

Not because of any other reason than there is nothing but a dream happening to us, baby!

Being happy is an option for the lucky, fortune brings the genetic combination to the fruit

Falls from music notes on a tree of ancestors in Ill, Tenn and Cali or Rome, “Now, git, git!”

I dig that dear john note without another, in a heart’s song the holy soul vanishes without it

In a ghost’s spirit of being something and nothing at the same time, in space and outer space

Never, never would you want to wish one of your three wishes away with a magic wand’s fit

Waving wands without occult spells works in backfire reverse, Will to Power in a pretty face.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. April 13, 2019 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

*Header is a wahini cum-min’ to the top of a warm wave comin’ out of the #CosmicSoup }

{ drafted while listenin’ to Chris Cornell #BlackHoleSun #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/2xvnBaxH78k }

#FINIS