#BeTheBawl #Omnipresence #OneMoreThing

BREATH OF O2, GANGSTAS’ PUFFS *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, September 13, 2019

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On being a part of the crew that nobody knows, devil dogs and cool cats, all too human DNA

Blue ribbon, top notch & pep gave the story of Archie, Betty, Veronica and Jughead gold dust

Nothing more nor less than every comic of Archie & the crew graced my trips on the CTA bus

I tried to breathe in and out when the air wasn’t being welcomed into my lungs, breath away!

Mouth agape, kick my jaw shut with my dog-tag jammed into my rotted, kicked in false teeth

Then I can laugh my cracked up, conscious, superego soul into oblivion, OMG Friday the 13th

Wind and the spin make the wobble mix the heat with the wet water, rock salt’s putrid sewer

It’ll be animated if you will it to be, takin’ my breath away, she’s a First Cause’s snow blower.

Heart of plaster and bones of plankton and ether, that’s all of it, nothing to it, all of it, yea

There is a price to pay and that tag has nothing to do with gold or money, it’s a death day

Every day is, yours and mine are on the way from somewhere in future time, already Past

Rich man rags or poor man’s uniform, cutoffs and a tank-top, heart exposed to be outcast.

Carbon date the sundial’s shadows, recollect the mean and nasty men who hooked women

Breeding the herds that roam the seven continents, with or without universal health care

All for the One that claims the borrowed time eventually, down a rabbit hole of sea men

Still struggling on that fateful night or day, while at sleep, at sea, in the air, where I dare.

But alright now, it’s gonna happen whenever accidental meetings of powerful Illuminati

Mother’s and human not to mention divine, Nature is probably just as fine without me

It needs you though, Nature isn’t through with you until you cough up the cash overdue

Taxed in all of the past lives, reincarnation did not erase the eternal debt, let me tell you.

Karma is this here that makes that there, infused into the essence of Thor’s Mjolnir hammer

Odin or Zeus or even a space dimension beyond comprehension, fertile minds don’t stammer

#WordsUp for the characters of form and color, blue ice crystal, five-sided shape, holy SILT

Whether a mason, a pope, a guy in a bar or a bum trip in a comic strip, pinball’s in full TILT.

by

r j j stephan, i * header is ‘Friends of Archiecomics.com

c. September 13th, 2019 A.D. @ 3:33 PM PST

{ drafted listenin’ to Eddie Money [#RIP brother, check ya on the other side] listenin’ to #ShesLikeAMove from #LoveAndMoney, youTube link @ https://youtu.be/4hIqpID6h8U }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#PowerWithin #NothingWithout #Elvis @EddieMoney @VanillaFudge

FRY DAY, ONE 3 STUPID? b@1*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, September 13, 2019

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First of all, I’ve got street cred for me to know and you to find out, baloney grist of the meat

Ignorance is one thing but #StupidShouldHurt you, AG and everyone else who thinks sheet

About the nature of the beasts, the Earth, the sun and stars of Space, regarding the One, only

A universe that has little or nothing to do with the morality or ethics of the hominidal party.

It’s a matter of hashtagging your typed/tapped digital reproduction of your inner self’s suck

Goin’ down fast as the gravity and the rock and roll impediments will allow, it’s a mind pfuq

Not only for the sake of the human race but also for the only reason, a Humpty Dumpty slam

All the King’s men put the broken egg of origin back together again, the DNA is Eve & Adam.

Extinction of the Life on Earth will be done in some random lifetime not ours but then again

You and I never know when they want you to clear your throat or talk to a prism camera lens’

Watch an old movie you’ve seen many times like #MASH, #GoneWithTheWind or #TheBirds

Your false teeth fall out, your #Polident fails, you didn’t even use any, gum ‘em out, #Words.

Double dog dare the triple mad dogs in the pack, in the herd of cows that become a pig’s stop

Ham’s from a pig, flesh on soul filled bones, a brain of a Hog from pig wombs’ full of wet slop

In a position for the mathmatical and philosophical analysis of the thing itself, bride & groom

When my fingers n’ toes nails stop growing in a casket’s box, sweep my dusted witch’s broom.

This won’t happen again, this spin is your spin and it’s all you’ll get, stick a fork in that pork

Enjoy the ride or not, make an error and go to prison or live to be old on social security dork

Gimme back my bullets, ma, papa or brothers, sisters or kids for Papafrancisco Saint’s sake

Good God, evil’s the reversal, the Evil, Live spelled backward, bizarre being, I’m wide awake!

Fried baloney and chicken fried eggs on the spit, hot cakes and maple, cool watermelon seed

Hot coffee bean soaked in scalding H2O, syrup of the mountain lions’ prey, humanity’s creed

Movement, animation on the ground, in the air or under the sea, whatever floats your token

I blog the spots when they appear out of nowhere, right in front of my holy eyes, wide open.

The Yin and the Yang move about the matrix within the heads of humanity’s asymmetrical sign

Half of a non-circular, empty comma, linked us all in a climate changes’ neon dream, so lucid

I am not going to die before my time, it’s my time at any moment, now then, I am only a Kid

Money talks and it’s singing plenty of warbled words, wind pipes stoked toes over a fine line.

by

r j j stephan, i * #StupidShouldHurt (A&G) yet does NOT, check the stupido in the mirror!

c. September 13th, 2019 A.D. @ 7:59 AM PST #FridayHashtagYoMama #FridayThe13th

{ drafted listenin’ to Eddie Money HITS youTube link @ https://youtu.be/2tcD_dVcXE4}

W.W.A.R.D.?

@MorganWallen #UpDown #WhuChuKnowBoutItCleo ? @TheBeachBoys #SurferGirl

SURFIN’ WAVE, SIP ‘ROUND TRUTH

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, September 12, 2019

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Cannot act my age {2}, deserted on Earth, negative ground surf of Chicago’s Oak Street beach

Nevertheless, my two bits of what I believe might shed black light in the apeman monkey ball

Coming from the ancient languages translated into my own, Indian ink and tree pulp of Word

I mean electronic disturbance of light on a program’s blank screen, a fake memory of a Lord.

Pretend you were just born and you have no idea what’s going on in the hospital and the flow

Either you have people who care about your infancy or you don’t, either way you live and die

Free will and free choice are the way we accommodate facts of life, out of our finite control

Pretend that you’ll live forever and nothing can stop you from doing anything, that is a lie!

We’re all gonna die someday, sooner or later, I don’t want to go, I have grief for the departed

Still, something more than a soul and consciousness I can’t see must be comin’, right she said

If not, if this is it, then THAT explains the nature of Life as it appears to my 5 senses, Z is A

On being, there’s the end of my days, philosophical ideas that keep me here, make me stay.

Existence of all animals and plants, of which I am a mere, minuscule campfire of holy 8 balls

Won’t allow the abortions nor the closure of orphanages or infanticide of fake sacrificial dolls

Pearls of wisdom flowing from the doctors and lawyers lips and the most unlikely to succeed

As the next POTUS dreams of being the One who will save the world from the poll tax bleed.

Historical knowledge in retrospect, the hunters and gatherers were both lucky and wise

For the DNA to flourish, successful survival skills were founded by accident or teachings

From whatever came down to this planet from up above or down below and left, in a UFO

Nothing else left other than stories and recollections of blind faith jumpers into a holy hole.

Nowhere else to go except back and forth from the places you’ve been to the places you’ll be

By air, earth or sea on the way from here to there, to see the day and night, in another scree

Cannot discern the mode of being once inside the deep state of the One Being, Earth’s crust

No hell or heaven, just here and now so enjoy the ride or wait for the ridiculous cosmic dust!

Faith you received from the firemen who couldn’t save our lady of the angels, hot as tropics

Back in the 1950’s they waxed the floor with combustible shine, looked good for the myopics

Or President or Mayor of the Second City, where I come from so I can say for whom bells toll

If it wasn’t for dumb luck with no safe place, wax fire melted, trigger-angels yelled, Let’s Roll!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. September 12th, 2019 A.D. @ 5:55 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Morganwallen #WhiskeyGlasses & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/FjBp30kjzTc }

W.W.A.R.D.?