#TakeMyHand #NoDont @BobMarley @SamanthaFish

NO SOONER SAID, LAW’S UNDONE *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, September 4, 2019

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She’ll follow you deep into the bowels of the pit of Hades if you’re leading, A wizard’s song

She’ll follow you deep into the bowels of the pit if you’re a leading blindman, pyre get along

Can’t see anything in the smoke, even with the two-way mirrors that aid a self conscious Id

Out of shape, there is no form to speak of, nothing to refer to other than the nugatory Void.

When the blackness clears, there is only blackness left over, nothing minus nothing for Zorro

No more can be said when the finale is staged and the last man standing falls into a glory hoe

Insider songs sung to outsiders, to mystify the mystery which is the #Unknown to God’s kids

Nobody is going down below the ground before they know the Truth, This is It, eggs in beds.

Living in the history and science books that were hand-me-downs from sisters and brothers

Fictional dreams passed on from a ghost to another until the One becomes enlightened first

Up from the South and down from the North, it’s all a matter of Time in Space for the atom

Speck of imploded mass with an amorphous megabyte of ones and zeroes sent under a dome.

Earth? Come on now, use your mind and the microscopes and telescopes, introspection fails

Truth laid down good, rockin’ row of words created anew, at the Harlem-Irving, in a ‘67 jaws

Screamin’ drag strip at the Forest Preserves off old River Road, or makin’ out for grim tales

Keepin’ the girls from screamin’ and keepin’ the taillights aflame for the law’s cross-cut saws.

Slow down Linda is what I always sing to myself when it all comes down to goin’ fast as hehl

If Linda won’t slow down then nobody will, it’s time to settle down even when you’re a tease

Gotta save a little bit for the end of days when you’re just fine but the end of days comes, I fell

Down to this trip, looks like a movie and you’ve got no idea how it ends, just know, it’s FINIS!

It is ferocious and just a series of functions from conception to inception to voidness’ Id ilk

Do not shoot the messenger with the hate darts of yo’ mama, my man, you got fear of milk

If you can’t or don’t drink it, you’ll die before you get a chance to live, a formula of my might

Power for the animation of the thing itself, a consumer whose consummation is 3 all-rights.

You’re just a punk, you papa said that to me but I knew he was just talkin’ about himself, yea

For I am the winner in the end, I would be a liar if I said that I lost, I win, I loved it alive, eh?

Not in a robot now, not in a casket or urn now, I’m here and now, not broken, all in One piece

At the fire, standin’ inside of the flames and burning skin and bones, ash of a supernova feast.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. September 4th, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 PM PST

{ rocked listenin’ to Rock of the 60’s 70’s & 80’s on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/b6iBclM2CkI }

* header above poem is my darlin’ & me on Alaskan Princesscruise in August 2019 A.D., oh VENUS!

WWARD?

#EverythingIsIndeedBroken #CheckItAndSee

 

WORDS ARE BROKEN, SO FIX’ ‘EM

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, September 4, 2019

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Intelligence quotient is divided by the multiplication of the added to subtract a buck back

Where the rubber met the road there were only skid marks, nothing but ol’ burnt pine tar

Coming right out of the twilight zone to show you that I’ve got no tongue or spooky tooth

Everything is missing, old men broken and it’s always been that way, tanned, whitish black.

To be or not to be a snob or a slob, that’s the honor of having a free will to choose spirits

Either the good, the bad or the ugly haunt the world, the Earth, other planets and stars

All of the alpha and the omega in a tizzy fit over who is in charge of the whole shebang

It’s not you nor I, in our humane capacity to drool and drill the innocence out the Tang.

Astral plane of smoke, all too human tractor-trailer jockeys, ebb and flow on Jersey turnpikes

Highways, freeways, tollways and back-roads all contribute to the ape-men flow of old kikes

Where all of the linguistic certainty flows out of the empty Void of a tiny, universal lost mind

Inside and outside there is no such thing as after, all’s here and now, I got your six past nine.

No skin is black unless it’s dead skin, eyeballs are all too human and they’re blind to vision

Think about the language and the culture given to the babies, in utero through college pain

Justice is not what you get it’s what you take from the deal, it’s a Big Deal, it’s an Art, hotrods

Walk away when you know that you can get more favor in the mix, negotiate with holy gods.

If and when the pleasure comes from the pain you’ve lost on the way to the Void’s depository

Squeeze it tight like it’ll never leave your hug, inhale deeply, it’s the mighty fog, broken to be

On the grounded being, dirty dice roll sevens, microbe to star, paradise struggle under a sky

Hold on for dear life’s fear, thieves always bet with the house, snake-eyed dice, scroll and die!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. September 4th, 2019 A.D. @ 1:11 AM PST

{ drafted listenin’ to R.L. BURNSIDE “Nothing Man” & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/mVUIasMNdt4 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

THIRD OF SEPTEMBER, A DAY I'LL ALWAYS REMEMBER...MAMA'S BIRTHDAY September 3, 1923 AD RIP MAMA!

DOG IS GOD, BACKWARD, EH? *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, September 3, 2019

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Stars and stripes mean more than thirteen bars of red and white in a solar field’s scarlet blue

‘69 Chevy with a 396cc engine, four on a bald headed floor, dual carbs, header-glass pack fool

First heat and the last drag race of the storm, I win, I see, holy pretenders are really uncool

Some guys give up and start dyin’ little by little, some just go in a blaze of crimson glory too.

Blown away under their seats when I clocked that 9.2 1/4 mile, a Camaro tease, oh wetter T’s

No, I never let the word or the world get me down with the rest of my enemy-friends, race me

If I bet I win, if I don’t bet I win, it’s a #WinWin situational ethics type of deal, props to Boss’

There was one, was a hog and there was one risin’ in the back alley, mean street mental floss.

It’s a major revelation to shivering homeless boys or girls with no shoes, God of a Dog, yeah?

Dancin’ barefoot with the dead and buried memories of who used to be here and now, today

Yesterday came and went, today’s goin’ fast and tomorrow may never come for some to play

Forever past the last day, the sun won’t ever set again, it’ll never rise again, it’ll be fine, OK?

Recollect that day you were born into this windy, wet world but you can’t, weren’t present yet

But now you are here and now, fresh from the past, wild eyed and bushy tailed, deep in debt

Sinning before birth, just for trying to multiply DNA, drilling the soul for infinitely long trips

From the rocks and dirt, concrete and steel, supersonic jets, skyscrapin’ steel kissin’ two lips.

I’m goin’ down, way down to the bottom where nobody ever goes, I’m already gone, so nice

You cannot burn me when I am already the flame, so hot that the iron’s frozen cold, blue ice

No sweat and no offense to you my friend but you’re out of bounds, lovin’ my huggin’ frown

Beatin’ my tom-toms, sixty pound stones carried up and down the hill, pops to throw down.

There was thunder on my road too, the lightening kept the way lit long enough to see the end

Across the porch, radio playin’ Bruce and Roy, tellin’ tales of the Man, lovin’ the Woman sins

No problem to get into the trouble of the historical survival of the fit and the lucky dogs fend

For them and their kin, for the orphaned souls, zip haircuts and bald, blue-red painted skins.

To the far side where every loser’s winner finds a hook, a saga of talkin’ heads, clappin’ hands

Crowd works and slaves to pay to hear the sounds of the music men and women of Peter Pans

Sisters and brothers from mine and other mothers of red-blooded, tough, dead roadies’ scree

Fools believed #PurpleRain’s Truth, hooks, lines, sinkers, reachin’ for a kiss, now, cover me!

by

r j j stephan, i * #BeenAroundATimeOrTwoToo - God

c. September 3rd, 2019 A.D. Tuesday, my mama mia’s birthday back in 1923 A.D. Happy birthday from my lips to God’s ears mama! “If you’re ready for love, I’m tougher than the rest!” - Bruce Springsteen LIVE LINK ON A THIN LINE @ https://youtu.be/HSNI0jwsZ9k }

 * * *

FINIS