#MojoIsWorkin #MakinAComeBack

FORTH & BACK, BAWLIN’ INSIDE

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, September 26, 2019

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Hoarse and unable to say the word, nothing but mercy and love for the four legged big ones

Moving us all further than we’ve ever meant to go, out into the Tundra and Jungle dry runs

Paranormal and just a bit unhinged from Reality as we know it, substance of the highest bid

What’s been leftover by the supernovas and singularities, defunct since the First Cause kid.

My babies came from me and I came from a baby, grown up into the Earth and Sun, One’s

Finest smoke and gusts of pure power winds, injected into lungs for the blow of It’s guns

Aces, Kings, Queens and the Jacks of all trades, the masters of the None, Nothing’s Voids

Perusal of the opinions generated by the dead men, philosophers of continental androids.

Kicking the can for the fun of it, the game with hidden rules to stay within the realm too

Cannot go out to blow your top outside of the venue, gonads and eggs slide aside for you

It is not what it never was and everyone alive knows it, ignorant and wise, same old Us

We move in and out of the dream, forgetting the nature of the beast’s slumber, the fool!

Makin’ up the reasons for loving and hugging and kissing, it’s a survival mechanism byte

One without the end in mind, unforgiven, unforeseen and malignant beyond the montage

Brutal scales played from an A flat to a B sharp to a ZZ Top concert of rolling rock sight

Bad, evil in a sense but more like the Goodness of the essence, smokin’ back of the badge.

Mirrored image in the reflection of still water and shined glass mirrors, what to see & fast

Not just One but Many more than one, a multitude of shattered shards of subatomic blasts

Armor of skin and bone, shields high and swords drawn against the machine gun’s blow

It is love, it is charity, it is humanity, self realization that we’re dead, the herd’s gone glow.

Stallions and mares galloping through the shallows, running away from paid hungry cats

Hiding and seeking for the sake of survival, avoiding the tooth and nail shredding my fats

Muscles down the hatch, broken bones open for the marrow, it’s the life of the teeny boners

Cells of amino acid, like whiskey in a bottle, a way too high preservation, 4 cornered w#ores.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. September 26th, 2019 A.D. @ 4:44 PM PST

{ drafted strokin’ youtube for ZZ-TOP fine focus on LIVE https://youtu.be/-BBKOlz2SLE & Stevie Ray Vaughan LIVE Montreux, Switzerland https://youtu.be/mMTblDDqJUA }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#AsFarAsIBlowBelow

AS FAR AS I BLOW & A BYTE MORE

RICHARD JOSEPH STEPHAN·WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2019

Perfection is in my personal repertoire, thank God for my DNA, mama and papa holy charity

For decades I have stuffed the turkeys annually for the sake of fake pilgrims’ sweet inner-city

My own love and hate is a thing itself expression of the Earth’s Wing and Fire, now we’re here

And now, the music bleeds order from every open pore of my eclectic corpus delecti fun-fear.

Catholics of Rome and beyond, Protestant protester’s and Calvinist orchard picker’s I-tunes

Dreams came true when they were false and the ones that never came to fruition, God goons

On the front end they got back loaded, high & tight like my flattop-cut above my chin’s nose

It’s so basic and technical, it is what it is, heavenly Hades, Earthbound inches and feet shoes.

Sweet and sour, delectable, even-odd roll of the bones, deadpan curves ahead makin’ me sin

Earth has no angels but they fly away from here, in due haste once a last breath is drawn zen

Visions and sounds of the blown horns, the sawed animal strings and kettle drum beaten skin

Love’s got so little to do with the explosion of gas pockets of a matrix, living life of dead men.

You wanted some shelter from the wind before you faded away but y’all yell until y’all fly-die

No disease was more than just a kiss away from your two lips and turned-up nose, eyes’ high

Angels and the demons that run the terrestrial show, expect nothing less than a holy mother

Between the sheets, on the frozen tundra, out on a limb, I knows the tree in open-sea, father.

You call it Knowledge and I call it Power to Be a survivor of this divine dream, shaboom kid

That ego won’t ever leave once it’s embedded into the flesh and bone, you’ll see how it’ll look

No sooner than much later, we all hope, immortal leaves of words’ compounded in the Book

Completely empty vacuum, no air, oxygen or hydrogen, myth risen Savior’s sorry game of Id.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. September 25th, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 AM EST

{ drafted while playin’ DJ to the moron within THE bones, an eclectic blend from #Cielo #TheCrewCuts https://youtu.be/Q9G0-4TWwew #TheMcGuireSisters https://youtu.be/8ys1XYmL51A #DreamLover https://youtu.be/wVHAQX5sSaU #OhCarol https://youtu.be/4XHe6dSngt0 #BluesCousins https://youtu.be/3ctQiIPE2IA #ThePlatters https://youtu.be/3FygIKsnkCw #PeggyMarch https://youtu.be/jgPMYQTINNk }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#THINGSaIN'T...

THINGS AIN’T BROKE, GOT IT BUB?

RICHARD JOSEPH STEPHAN·TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2019

There’s a whisker of a chance that the obelisk and an all-star are a bat and bawled out-liar

Play it cool and maybe you can choke up on your grip and maybe hit a bunt-ball sacrifice

Out to center field where nobody can throw it all the way home without a hot, infinite fire

Rounding third and on the way for the slide into the home plate, err on catcher’s thin ice.

Perfect game from the hurler and a grand slam by him to boot, won the game 4 by 2 three

All you need for a perfect game is one more out, 13th strikeout of the game, hard lot of sand

Sponsored dreamers and schemers, coaches and players, even the manager and the fans see

Nobody can beat the best there ever was in the best of five, seven, nine or a hundred grand.

What do the men do who are not only human but also divine sons of a universal creator God

No evidence in the black out of Space’s Time that there’s a man left on screens of cellphones

Here and now or then and there, past, future or right this very moment, it’s but a mega-flood

Bringin’ no tears of joy to the epitaph of yo’ mama but she flipped over her urn’s dusty-bones.

Do not bring on the finale until it’s well prepared for, ready for the ending, final curtain down

Ready for the bows to the crowd, salutes of the hands clapping together, whistles and a frown

From the bottom of their hearts, they want out #ASAP like it or not, exit to stage right below

Your guess is as good as mine, conceptual analysis of things and their perpetual soul’s blow.

I know and you know what it’s like to be all alone without a care, without a friend, battle blue

Just before the challenge of trying to survive in a hostile environment, hungry to eat old you

Whether dressed or gutted, it’s the chewing of the infinitely small to the ferocious dog or cat

Ripping the muscle-meat off the bone, raw as the living thing breathing fresh air, fly to swat.

Appearances allow no errors to formulate the equation of inequality, it’s the essence of the O

I ain’t a freak but I am a mutated genome of the original 32 genes of Homo Sapiens of blow

Tons of the cocoa leaf, chopped and pulverized into the power of powder, up a mainline rose

Compared to copulation of moments, causing animated conception, we’re light a heavy dose.

Down under or downtown MAGAlopolis, the water drains just like the Earth’s wobbling spin

Pink sky punked the blue, all of them just obscured deep, black space where mortals lips sing

Spin in a prison cell with no view, just light and air to enter for sustenance, midnight’s origin

In the corner because an ogre pointed the way and ordered the action, soon to be a blue king.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. September 24th, 2019 A.D. @ 8:53 PM E.S.T.

{ drafted while listenin’ to #BluesCousins #TheDream link @ https://youtu.be/3ctQiIPE2IA & https://youtu.be/HRJGVbMtzBQ now, #OpenTheDoor }

W.W.A.R.D.?