#FoxyLadies

COMPARED TO A CANARY & A FOX

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, October 15, 2019

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Birds and wild dogs put the mothers right in their places, back up against the cave’s wall

Inside the mountain where only one entrance it the one and only exit, ‘cause she up n’ fell

Fell into the flesh and bone and succumbed to the heat of a moment or two, anticlimactic

But it’s better than the alternative, no light, no eyesight and can’t fight with a sharp stick.

Rocks can be thrown, boulders can be rolled down hills uncontrolled, bouncing, spinning

Knives and clubs can be fashioned, swords and spears, small and large lead balls to throw

All of it for the territory and the female reproductive function to multiply the herd thing

In an ooze of invisible gas, the atmospheric pressure is lost to the outer space of air flow.

Far away from the place that’s too far out to get to, it’s not my choice to miss the space

But since it must be done, I awaken from the dream that’s been disguised as my face

What looks out of the eyes and smells through the nose, tastes and touches, who hears?

Veils over the faces, reputations precede us all, lead, follow or get out of the way, Fears!

Nuts from the trees grew more and then women made a man come to high heaven’s sky

Bringing the DNA into the gene pool to achieve the survival of our animated acid, I lie

Truth is empty of meaning, it’s what it is after the sound has ceased, post rock and roll

Spun, weaved, wobbled and thrown into a boomerang orbit, this is it, all there is, GOAL!

Marks and scars from the damaged epidermal layer of bone cover, from toes to the schnoz

If I get too sozzled, I’ll need to substitute a pinch hitter into the line-up, to foozle the blood

Pain and suffering all in the mind of the adult babies in pampers, can’t get to the commode

Multi-celled protozoans on crack, on a playground of snakes and worms. as I play the blues.

A phenomenon out of the twilight zone matrix, unidentified object of the predication’s cross

Players all alone or on a team, it’s the nature of a plan to reduce the chance of failure, of loss

Practicing the same thing over repeatedly to embed the behavior and reduce a chance of ends

Too human or not, it’s the way it is, there’s nothing we can do about it, it’s out of our hands.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. ROCTOBER 15, 2019 A.D. @ 4:44 PM PST

{ drafted while listening/watching Jonny Lang HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/bb6wkH7g7zM }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#AhHehlNo #WARTheBand #ACDC

FLY ON A WALL, ON THE BORDER

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, October 15, 2019

----------FLIES----------

Frozen water in the shape of a fake heart, in gloved hands of a woman, ready to make a move

To be or not to be all, it’s not the only question but it’s all about the First Light’s time of day

What’s reality without peasants and royalty, asymmetrical triggering from discipline’s groove

Explosions induced by the pressure of blood inside a bag of bones, that’s life, the people say.

Here and now, then and there, this Time and Space, I insist it be my matrix of choice, death

This is what it’s like, dead and alive at the same time, within a New York minute’s blind faith

On the name of the game, all the people have said is just an accident of woman's’ womb soil

Silence broken by the noise of the revolution of the Earth, civilized counter revolution recoil.

Senseless like a mother’s consciousness after childbirth, glad the pain’s over until a future fit

When the manifestation of being all too human defers to being the children of divine ala Void

Black, silent, a grim darkness, nothing but what’s been annihilated, a phantasmagorical idiot

It is pitiful and simultaneously the target of my despair, to be you or me, blood, life, android.

I shudder to look at the light coming through the prism, blinded by the white rainbow in a fit

On the floor, under the ground, up in the air with nowhere to go but around in an infinite pit

Open hole in a twilight zone where sleep is awake and woke is a supreme dream of slumber

Grown without obstruction in a cemetery’s tomb, down in a grave without a breath of the air.

No fear of the hideous and revolting, blinded and deaf, without the disorder of being human

Pure food for mothers’ fathers to survive on the burned out ash of this star system’s flim flam

Growing seeds of Time and Space, now, here with no place left to go, my matrix-damned men

The new end is like the old loose end, ready to be tied but impossible to connect, it’s the Zen.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. ROCKTOBER 15TH, 2019 A.D. @ 2:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to #SUMMER by The Original WAR Band on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/gSQAlfyaKyc }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#JumpOnTopOfTheCasket #ElderSicilianWomenRock

PREMATURE AFTERBIRTH, OMGs

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, October 14, 2019

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You know what I mean when I think about #ArmsSales and then lie about Truth to you

In the morning after a long evening asleep in a dream state of being, a supernatural fool

For the sake of being responsible for my obligations, I have none, therefore, I am alright

I think I am alright anyway it goes, lucky to have been here for a NY minute for the fight.

Digested the presence of the presents for Christmas and my seventy birthdays, give or take It

A box with a sweater or a set of boxing gloves or a saxophone, I could blow the horn or fake it

Deeper than purple and more floyd than the pink, superb malfunction of yo’ mama’s friends

Disappointed with the Truth of pain and suffering in Time And Space, move onto the Ends.

Where everything goes up because it can’t get down any further than the ground of all souls

Emptiness between the stars and planets far exceeds my insight into the Trix and Cheerio

It’s all about me and not laughing dogs that are chompin’ at their bits ready to chew y’alls

Marchin’ through the pain, privates, sergeants and captain’s feet, rise war, afoot, git git ho!

We had a song, we sang it once and then we died under the waving flag of black X’s & O’s

Whomever started this crown of thorns in the head of the gods, they’re to blame for defeat

Nothing you can do about it being that fortunate son with silver spoon or rummage blows

Jolly Roger flag of the skull and crossbones, patched eye and crushed velvet on raw meat.

Spearheads in rib cages of the buried bones of humanity’s skeletons, Jolly Roger’s stronger

Than the life that moves the Earth around in circles, in perpetuity, never ending story, to sir

All you can do is laugh or cry and there’s nothing else to know about, a philosophical twerp

A will to survive makes no difference, sisters fall, resist we must, it’s a renaissance, brother!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. ROCKTOBER 14, 2019 A.D. @ 11:45 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Michael Crichton #Sphere on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/74eRSVR1Cdo }

W.W.A.R.D.?