#PutYourFootOnTheRock #LetsRoll #RASTAMAN #SixtyFourSquareZone #ThirdPlaneSpace #FourthDimensionTime #Unashamed #Unabashed #LydiaPense #ColdBlood

* * * * *

UNASHAMED & UNABASHED

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, May 18, 2019

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Think about it pawns, kings and fortunate sons, we are all kin to hungry cats and hot canines

Now, my friend is bein’ honest whether parents are priests, nuns or inmate dressed to nines

In revolution around the burning, hot star, gaining momentum, a holy, gravity wobble busted

Enchanted, being the third stone from a sun’s quirky nonsense, a One religion of Stardusted.

In numerical-alphabetical order, we’re all on the same page of an Emerald Tablet’s scratchin’

Recollection of conception between four alienated forms of immaculate con-deception, a sin

In love or lust, a mating thing beyond wars’ glass thrones of kings’ fake queens on the blocks

Fired-up water sums up the planet’s groom of it’s #Rockness with no Blue Sea, cool sky rock.

Without a trace left by the ancient trail of smoke in the empty valley of tears, I am, the F-son

The air goes in and it goes out of me, until one day it will end, it’ll be finished for the bleedin’

Heart stops pumping and only gravity and muscle relaxers cause bowel-evac, I’m a heathen

Out of the cave yet hidden in the plain sight of the hunters who starve for the cry and wine.

Who exists as your soul’s accountant, is to know that you are a walkin’ deep-sleep Time flip

Cannot awaken easily since it involves leaving the Earth’s gravitational twirl, God-death grip

Married to the dreamer until death do us part, it ain’t my fault that it is what it is, so just chill

You could but I don’t recommend attempting to explode firearms into my skinless, holy skull.

Name and serial number on your dog tagged jaw, kicked shut by a loving combat boot’s soul

Equations mirror a real life, inequality being the essence of Love itself, eyes watch my steps

On freeways the secluded roofs over ape-UFO modality, Oneness without atomic form of hole

Black Holes, White Dwarves as above, so below a 64-square plexi-glasstop, apes, “Let’s roll!”

by

r j j stephan, i

c. May 18th, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PDT Samedhi

{ drafted while listenin’ to @LydiaPense & @ColdBlood #WhenImKissinMyLove & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/s_S4rDwVBl0 }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

A CAPELLA BATTLEAX NAMED #Mjolnir #ItIsHammeringTime #HolyScat

A CAPELLA, THOR’S BATTLEAX

by

Richard Joseph Stephan  ·  Friday, May 17, 2019

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It’s not ‘just’ a hammer, it’s a piece of an imploded dark star, a black, unholy, my singularity

Fixed in an infinite menudo of atoms and quarks excited to be here and now, full of fool glee

Interested in mountains and valleys, rivers, seas and the stratosphere down to the One core

Merged into a banquet phantasmagoria where the whole thing is but Thor’s hammer score.

Mjolnir thrown out at home, sliding into 1st fear of loathing, spikes high up Alexander’s thigh

Conclusion from deductions of highly probable observations’ premises and the monster mash

Seasons come and go, the life you had this AM will certainly in a Manhattan’s minute, will die

To the point of being or not, bullseye representing against the prison’s wall, it’s a six by nine.

Lacking perfection is the means to the end of times, the end of the games, played by the Force

Of the air, the land and sea, this Earth’s spin and wobble shoots the revolution, sun Evolution

It always was and always will be what it is, the rock and roll from seven continents to the seas

I know this is not the Time, I know this is not the place in Space, a slippery slope with no skis.

But that is all I know, that this is not the Time in Space, The Time, that is, in The Space above

We know what’s below with dead bones of our ancestors, the ashes of our spirits’ turtle Dove

No reason and no rhyme to the nature of the beast at hand, lookin’ in the out door’s window

Off to battle I go, fool-me ending, a war I knew from scratch, an angel I am, way down below.

Inner secrets of the black house nobody gets to rent or buy, it’s the last home of the boneless

Rubber or plastic entities annihilated when outside of the gases of the Earth, aliens are gods

Nobody comes in saucers or ships and visits the weird parts of universal Milky Way humans

From Thor’s Big Bang until shock and awe #BattleAxin’ your head, I Am Mjolnir, old friend!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. FRIDAY! May 17, 2019 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

{ GENERATED by random recombination of DNA in a petri dish of viral RNA from nowhere & listenin’ to the replay of another Golden State Warriors romp to the #Repeat link @ http://www.espn.com/video/clip?id=26720261 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#FerociousPrevarication #MeanLies #NoMercy #NeverEverForget

SHADOWS IN MY HOLY DARKNESS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, May 15, 2019

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It could never be worse than it is when I find nothing at the bottom of Earth’s rabbit hole city

Nothing to see or hear or feel down here, no water or radioactive light’s invisible superfluity

Pertaining to the health of the body and the soul and whatever else you call it, God in a dam.

Perfectly grim and in the pedantic mode of being holier than thou, it’s true, I am what I am.

Not holier than you but perfectly grim I am and that seems to make me holier, sublime stuff

I am on my own in the darkness and although I sing and cry out loud, it’s silence is quite def

In a million years or in just a few centuries, the world’s living, being plans and animal sins

Will all be dead, probably the species will be extinct for the rookie seasons’ mass extinctions.

End of days, world remains in revolutionary mode, church, mosque, synagogue weekends

Never mine or yours, all of this here in front of your eyes and under your feet are loose ends

What you and I may get fortunate enough to do, filing our last wills and testaments to Life

Giving our possessions away, today because these dreams were never ours in the first place.

Off the road and into a marsh area where the evil lives fear to go because they’ll dye it there

Evil fears death just like the Good and the Beautiful, there is a reason for that, no biggy scare

Nothing left after the last breath, no scars or debts to repay without the bodiless, low prices

What that was when you called it the soul, was the activity of the body, a neurosis psychosis.

by

r j j stephan, i #BLACKoperationsCorporation #CharcoalOps

c. May 15, 2019 A.D. @ 8:11 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Daryl's House Club Diane Birch & Daryl Hall jammin’ with the house band on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/1XORRk8rGes }

W.W.A.R.D.?