#POOHDOGs on my lawn with malice aforethought! #BringItOnDownNow #1 #2 #3 #4, 1, 2...3 4

WHAT’S ON MY GRASS, POOHDOG?*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Sunday, August 4, 2019

sssssssssssssssssss poo poo scat ssssssssssssssssss

Between the lines you see what you are, a dump you placed right outside your filthy s-come

Right there in front of your eyes because they are stalkin’ your safeplace to be their kingdom

Without the power of wisdom or knowledge, idiots and morons screw on curbs or in the mud

Wanting the morality of a roach and rutting boar in a mid-summer pool of my killer’s blood.

Anyway you look at the comedy of life in front of your eyes, you live in a ghetto so #MoveOut

Get the For Sale sign on the front lawn and show your house when it’s turned into a box bout

Intruder living in the space near the roaches and rats, ghetto where they were born to welfare

Food stamps, Women, Infant Children (#WIC) and much ado ‘bout a pile of scat on my lawn.

Suddenly, right outside of your front window, ne’er do wells without employment, screw dads

That girlfriend was someone’s daughter that I could not defend other than getting my defense

Of my property and the trespassers who picnic because they have no cents and want all yours

They got built by county welfare department to get big enough to rob us of our proper cents.

They want what we own for free, they heard America was the home of the free and the want it

My stuff is their stuff, as they’ve been taught to take it all in the ghetto or you’ll be a bit of chit

If you’re not the dominant One on the block, concealed armed & dangerous, you appear prey

Then at the moment deadly force is required due to fear for safety of property and life, I say!

Before you bid adieu and leave the petri dish of your amigos, amigas and the ilk left by germs

Give tribute to the ancestors who allowed my presence to complete the mission of the worms

Breaking into and through the crust & gas of this Earth, down to the core of flaming, fake fire

To warm the liquid and keep it from becoming as cold as ice and kill the DNA forms of pyre.

Concealed hands, feet, elbows, knees and skull from the vacant, no neighbor, no hoodie fool

Came from a ghetto city, rat infested roach homes, deep inside of a lateral ghetto, stamp-food

If you can’t work because your welfare check/ food stamps are gone, y’all be just chicken fried

So, you stalk the innocent, naively finding the end of your breath’s heartbeat, bad DOG died!

Didn’t know the prey was indeed a predator in check, with the power to annihilate your beats

Whatever you thought the thumping sound was before you met your maker, that wasn’t teats

Since your mama abandoned you at birth and you never got one, much less two, you evil dog

Spelled backward the word itself #dog is just a #god spelled backward, forward, it’s real, Gog!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 4th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:44 AM PST

{ took a stab at drafting this piece straight out of the hood in the #Highlands, where neighbors live in a garage, rut and relieve themselves on your front curb and lawn! Now, I’ll listen to some #WARtheBand on youTube to celebrate my application for a #CWP. . . youTube link @ https://youtu.be/WJMAzHaPaOU #OUTLAW #wordUP }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#NameWhenILose #DeaconBlue #ThatIsYouFool #China #Banjo #Binjo

WHAT IS HIP? A RAMBLING FOOL!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, August 3, 2019

-----------------WHO IS THE FOOL?------------------

 

For one thing, this is not what it appears to be, this is the form not the essence of Id’s It

Subtraction of the addition to multiply the division is all we can do, y’all get to go, Exit

This room and the house’s floors, walls and ceiling, basement and top shelf, two by twos

For no reason or for any reason, the Earth continues the rocks-a-rollin’ under the blues.

All the way under the whole shebang, there’s nothing but the air and space of the hot womb

Empty of atoms and without the babies of Eve, interstellar Void is the gist of the grim tomb

Where the mothers’ fathers lie under soil and grass, in an aluminum room with no bunkbed

Cannot get out no matter how you try, full of formaldehyde anyway, hard to live deadhead.

Who knew what nobody ever could fathom, that God was the Gold, all mystery is all of that

Last calls for alcohol over here by the heavenly bar of stars and empty thirteen stripes of fat

Very large people eating all of the fried food, candy sticks for stupid kids, lickin’ it, my food

Throwin’ the projectile to a bull’s eye where nothing ever goes alone, we woke up with wood.

Wondering why we’re all here and now, or maybe we know why we’re here, to live then to die

Like all the food we eat that was alive before it died, the same for us except we’ve not been ate

It’s a Game of Life, survival and extension of the breathing, heart beating to the unholy finale

No ma or pa ready to help you kill the thing itself, suicide, free choice, God’s dead in Tripoli.

Hopelessness for hapless minions, babies, innocent teens and DNA denizens, that’s cruel see

Compare this to the alternative, heaven haven or Hades of the burn, stayin’ alive, Dogod folly

If not you then who will carry on the specie's genome, don’t worry enough just to be so happy

Worry more and feel the sadness and the gloom of being dead in a tomb, rocks don’t roll, see?

I spun the tops and the yoyo’s with nowhere else to go but down in the street, in the yard hole

I walked the dog and rocked the baby in the cradle for maybe two minutes, into a rubber soul

Boys clubs and paper routes, music lessons, preschool onto college, I enculturated fake blood

For the Time and Space allowed, it’s all you can and that’s Be The Ball, I’m Earth’s Manhood.

In a few short days and nights, you and I will move on to the end of the line, nobody to care

Out of our hands, this is all that it is, a moment in Time to see what nothing looks like to me

Then report back to no one but me because I am all that I am and all of that but I don’t care

I beat snakeskin in a Void of Nothing, don’t tell me What IT Is, smoked blunts of it’s not fair!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 3rd, 2019 A.D. @ 12:12 A.M. PST Saturday, my day, all mine!

{ drafted while listenin’ to the mighty @TowerOfpower #WhatIsHip & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/SN8pWdZhVaM 

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#LikeTheOldMeBetterToo #ThisAndThat @GretchenWilson @ZZTop #WhatsUpWithThat

 

THAT AIN’T THE WORST OF IT YET

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, August 2, 2019

Bad feelings come right after the good feelings or you would not know you’re awake, alive

It’s what happens when you run in and out of the holy surface of the itch, a planet nosedive

Where the sunlight came and vibrated the rocks and rolled them into the oven, bake all of It

A hundred degrees or so, more or less, frequent or often, it never mattered, it’s all fake chit.

Not just the news but the old traditions of the dead ancestors who shout at us through Word

Making love and falling into it or not, makin’ the zygotes crash into the prisons and the fjord

Am I wrong? I don’t think so, what, you’re goin’ to heaven when your corpse lays stiff? LOL

Be strong when it comes right down to finding out what’s what, the Truth, gotta build a wall!

Cheater in your ‘hood screwing a girl on a curb, screwing in a neighbor’s yard, with no candor

Treat her nice because she got your jock wet with your fool jazz, paid nothing but GI marches

Your daddy never taught you much other than how to get your rocks off in your sister’s parlor

Castration’ll work or eight weeks of #USMC #BT to ship to a War or dishonorable discharges.

Fools n’ jokers pullin’ my attention to laugh, be the absurdity of it all, formatting the pigskin

If I told you once then I’ve told you a thousand times y’all, now you see me, my genes and kin

Songs, played and sung for the subjects that seek the objects of the predicates, to hell & gone

South of the border or coast to coast, it’s a compact space for Liberty’s best chance, free One.

Miracles are all in your mind, your head, an imaginary scene that moves the stupidity to hurt

Inside the deepest hole of a place where you store the chains of fear, banished solarflare flirt

Hotter than a hundred and diggin’ on my place in space that couldn’t remain, peace who says

That the battles for your life and/or soul, your conscious awareness are fake-fool resistances.

If stupid didn’t hurt everyone would die at the same time of the stupidity, in a Father’s name

Blaming it on the Mother, the Earth is not going to change the fact that this is a divine dream

Some scenes from the cooking in the kitchen, for the minions are not able to survive trouble

Important to nobody but me, if you come over into my space uninvited, you’ll see my double.

Takes care of all the business that craves quick responses and a terminating attitude to melee

No wondering what’s coming since it’s always either me or someone else, I saw it on the T.V.

No comments from a peanut gallery or a preacher’s choir, not ungrateful, already know a bit

Again, reincarnate fever, prove I’m wrong, chosen 1, same damned thing all over again, s#it!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 2nd, 2019 A.D. @ 4:44 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Keb' Mo' #SlowDownCD #SoonAsIGetPaid on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/NEJx59fKPUE }

W.W.A.R.D.?