Nickelback - This Afternoon #JustLikeFireWould #SmokedMyLastCigaretteInTwoOhNineteen

WATCH THE CLOCK ROCK & ROLL

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, May 6, 2019

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If and only if you have the time, I’ve got the cache in a stash, down with it, sight blindsided

Golden ore in various forms of precious, elemental metal content in pure rat formaldehyde

Whether it’s Truth of the facts of life or the invented Lie by a deep-state spy guy, disguised

As a friend, a relative, a lover, an acquaintance of collusion, addicted to faked passes, I lied.

In or out of the funk, can imagine drowning in the quicksand of civilized discourse squalor

Lucky to be a free-spirit infused angel without the human DNA genome, acid deficiency core

Inside and outside of the being in and out of this dimension of Time, future and past all One

Nothing different to distinguish without the categories and forms of exasperation, it is done.

What time it is depends on where you are at the moment you ask, dimensions are variable

As the world turns around and wobbles on it’s orbit about the sun, I wonder if I’ve fallen up

Because nothing in my life appears to be in the down category, although l am below average

In an essential place to be this thing itself, to be me, be born decades ago in a cribbage cage.

Armed and dangerous to the bare handed self defenders who put themselves in harms way

To be or not to be for equal justice under the universal law of karma, do unto others et al

If nobody hurts or defrauds anyone, then there’s no need to worry about retribution but hey

Keeping track of the good karma I’ve stored, I should be Good to Go at heaven’s pearly gate.

Get out of town, get out of my face and that should take care of the problem of being around

Frequent flyer between flutes and the tom toms, I am runnin’ with the wolves’ silence sound

From Jersey to L.A. I change the Time of night ‘n day, living twice, skippin’ 208 bones apart

Dark black aces and eights, confused, abused dead man’s hands, sanctified my broken heart.

by

r j j stephan, i *Header is one of my favorite artists Salvidor Dali and his #Stache - thx Sal }

c. May 6th, 2019 A.D. @ 1:11 PM Lundi

{ drafted while jammin’ to Bruce Springsteen #41SHOTS #HighHopes #HarrysPlace & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/rOPDhoZH91g }

***

W.W.A.R.D.?

#KidRock - Cowboy (Dirty) #TheRealMcCoy

W.W.A.R.D.?

#FiddleStix & #MyThoughtsExactly #PrecisionEsotericLogic

U/V BLUE, OLD DAYS, ONE & DONE

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, May 5, 2019

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Just an empty vessel of solid gases from the atmosphere’s exosphere on the perihelion of God

What in the world is out of this world? God is. It is the way of the warrior, weaponized mind

Knowledge and Wisdom of the Good and Evil of the wobbling orbit, the revolution’s scat-free

All that’s left after the light’s gas is used and abused without regard for sharing or humanity.

On the beach waitin’ for the surf to rise above the sandy turf of tuna, skin of the star games

No bench under my arse waitin’ to go into the game, ready to elicit defense of idiotic dames

Looking into and around it, above and below it, fell the distance between atomic infinite suns

Blowing and glowing, it’s all they do, it’s the function of the atomic genome of misery’s funds.

Days blown, nighttime is all that can shown to the players of The End games of the Voidish

What appears to be nothing at all, a vacuum without a trace of the past or the future, a Dish

With or without you and me, it’s here, it’s there and everywhere else in the Cosmic menses

For to be or not to be is NOT THE QUEST of the man’s skin and bones, one cell to corpses.

Compound the delivery of the Word with the Meaning and Intent of the Thought, persuasion

That I’m right and you’re either Left or Wrong but in any case, Not Right and that is all of It

Become one with the idea, the thought of the path to return to the memory of life’s BBQ pit

It’s the food we eat, it’s all dead and it allows our life to extend beyond the thirst’s starvation.

You died, you gave it all, at birth or in a battle or at the end of the line’s accidental ceremony

To honor the pointless life of a man or a woman and invent a meaning without the substance

It is what it is to be alive, to be a human, to be a homo sapiens, to be this guy in this company

The master of light, the arbiter of the orbit’s byte off of the solar system’s jazzy blues’ dance.

Just light ‘em up if you got ‘em and that is all she wrote, we fired up those fags on a match

Smoked ten packs in the carton in a week, first call to nicotine addiction, pitched to catch

In between innings in back of the dugout, we huffed and puffed before singles and homers

At bat to hit the ball out of the park, fast or curved balls got the wood goin’ over to Hooters.

Blessed souls and sentenced bodies and bones to the prison’s prism, miracles all shook up

I got chills from the ice around my head and feet, happy to be alive but I forgot my #SECup

Fast ball right down the pipe, eighty MPH screw ball in the unprotected groin for the money

Dreaming big, woke up in a dream, in shackles, nested in a sticky heart, my A-B-C’s honey!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. #CincoDeMayo 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ drafted while jammin’ to #AlbertKingBlues #DoesElvis HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/am0HO6Ijfyw }

W.W.A.R.D. ?