#YouHaveNoIdea #WhatItsLike @CLoGreen #DarylsHouseClub #DeepSpaceAintHereAndNow

FAVOR? ...BLOWN AIR IN A VOID

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, February 28, 2020

------------------  #CropDusted  -------------------

Get the intercourse off of my cloud, it’s all mine and I don’t care if it’s #9 ‘cause I’m IT, a #1

There were six before me for mothers and fathers to dote and choke off under the big ol’ sun

Suddenly, there was only One left over in the icebox, refrigerated with the Freon's deep Space

It’s all free, we’re all hungry for Freedom if we’re restricted and shackled to whipped up face.

For the third time, you shot doubles for an hour between seven and eight, then made a date

Blind lucky as I am, I was always full of good fortune and healthy paranoia to survive the fate

Of men and mice who crawl on all fours or bipedal upright, hands free to dig deep into Sin

On mortal bones and wings, none can escape the graves of the ancestors, tombstones’ of gin.

Everybody found the alcohol and the ground up leaves and buds to become atrophied fights

Boys and girls alike, discover the meaning of life is the good and evil of their active thoughts

Nothing behind the idea’s other than empty, vacuumed progeny of vacant gods and creators

Naked apes covered in mink stoles and the mud and blood of the dead, long gone warriors.

On a timeline from the origin to the present, here you are over here, in the darkest light of Ni

Black or white matters a byte of data, where you’re from is dirty balls of sweat, planetary high

Empty ‘tween the miles of smiles and mirth generated without prejudice, feeling hot, burned

All in the family of atomic fusion and fission, a black hole in transition from a Big Bang’s Urn.

Dust of cosmic, atomic brokeback DNA mixed up directional signals, up, down, in, out, above

Whatever is below has no currency, it’s free of value and the foundation of an ultraviolet dove

Dream in a whiskey bottle or a hooka hose, that don’t confront me at all, I ignore the white lie

Pretending it’s OK to be an ignoramous or a phuqn idiot, I’m an evil genius on a SloGin high.

I will mess with your mind and your head until the day I die, you have no say in the scenario

I’m the sheet of ice you avoid, you will slide to your demise if you step foot on my surface hole

Falling into the empty liquid, the living become the dead and break down the fool’s gold show

Where in the end, comfort is good, nothing’s bad, nobody’s here, we’re all caput, “Let’s blow!”

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Vendredi 28 février 2020 Anno Domini à 3 h 33, heure normale du Pacifique

{ Drafted while listenin’ to #SadGirl by Everlast on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/f9CjzZesbCE }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhatDoYouSay? #Peace/out #DuckDuckDuckGoose

WTF? BATCHIT AERODYNAMIC OPS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, February 27, 2020

- - - - -    #NUTCASES & #BravoZuluFunk  - - - - -

A happier birthday than the one you’ll never have is way gone, it’s out of sight, out of mind

To fly with or without your body is a good thing, it’s better than crawling or slithering, a sign

Of the stops and gos and the cautions regarding the danger to come, just ahead of the Time

When the past time has become what is right here and now, just before it drops a thin dime.

Monkeys and birds are all that’s left of the arc of the world flood, the last hope of Earth H2O

All that’s left over from the big bang around here is a moon, a planet, deep space and a mojo

Your mama and papa may or may not have helped the situation, being young, stupid or both

Yet here you are tryin’ to figure out what burning leaves in a bong might be, the gods’ meth.

All of the mixed chemicals and gases in subatomic and macromachine fiddlesticks, bear smoke

Fire everywhere when the spark causes a flame of ultraviolet blue, light in the dark, be woke

Or never complain about the nature of the beast you refused to control, remained fast asleep

Are you in or are you out of the pilot’s seat? Are you strapped in and counting down to leap?

Three, two, one, blastoff from the foundation of all that humanity has ever gleaned from Love

Being nothing more than a resistance to kill and eat the flesh n’ bone of the bloody con above

Up or down in any direction east, west, north or south, there’s nothing but an empty vacuum

You and I will die just like all who came before and all who’ll subsequently be, the overcome.

Pointing to the direction of the thing itself, attention is drawn to It in proportion to it’s colors

Purple, pink, silver and black all enhance the thing itself in it’s appearance to the final scores

Everybody wins and nobody loses because this is neither a game nor a mystery, we’re the fizz

If everything’s everything and nothing’s nothing, then Nothing at all is, all too human kids!

I got a vaccine for your virus that will kill the RNA and reverse degeneration into obliteration

It will cost you dearly, to find the truth of where Corona virus was created on Earth, do a shot

Maybe two or three down the hatch, Jose Cuervo or Jack Daniels puts the spirit in the mood

For the slap in the face, the slam onto the canvas or the stab in the back, we are God foo-food.

At Kiddieland on North avenue, we spent our thrills on rides before cool ice cream joint blow

Father, mother, sisters and brothers are way up country, too far gone to reverse a slam dunk

What I do now with left over SuperNova ends, killin’ It, wisdom dissolving in a wad of funk

Last word of the last thought, who you are, why you were here, ends in a gasp, ‘Aw, hehl no!’

You know it’s a long way to the top now, long time trying to get there, Satan’s hell’s bells rung

There’s no ending as there was no beginning, corona viral illusion virgin birth, test tube dung

Something that’s actually nothing at all, left over dead bones at the end, no soul, no life body

Move from a First Cause makin’ a Word flesh, I’m it now, we’re it now, an ox-burden of One.

Eat the bats and snakes and rats with the genes to extinguish your genome, consume it dead

Alive won’t work, too much wiggle and resistance to the bite of sharp incisors and canines all

Moving the living into the dead, the refused fuel dump of the homo sapiens, high in the head

Fired up smoke left over from a Big Bang, this Way of a Warrior, a knife and sword, last call!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday, February 27th, 2020 A.D. @ 4:11 PM PST

{ Drafted on my pops birthday, RIP @AlbertRichardStephan (93 years young sir!) #MakeMyDay #AreYouTalkinToMe? ...& listenin’ to the SOUNDTRACK OF M.A.S.H. the Series #NakedBet Season 1, link @ https://youtu.be/446xrl7d_AI }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#HollywoodWalkOfBlame #YouAreFired #ImNoAngel @OhioPlayers @GreggAllman

PERCOLATE? 5 9 1 2 MEANS WAR!*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, February 26, 2020

------ #CrumbsMakeGoodBeefMeatballs ------

Blind faith in historical civilizations and the markers they left for posterity to recollect origins

How many years have gods been on the planet Earth? Why did humanity get set up for sins?

Fascinating UFO’s are undercover of our sun and group’s collective soul full of giants’ bones

What is written in a foreign tongue is unintelligible because our grandfathers loved i-phones.

This and that system move the stage from the porch, settin’ on the swing, watchin’ the dragon

Sent the same size of living bones into a mini-world of villages and to create another dead son

Nobody will get out of Earth’s gravitational pull alive, if you’re not buried in ash, you’re fired

Eaten in tongues of flames, screaming wimps meltdown into the muck, fake news’ lion’s lair.

You are welcome onto the porch if you promise to get off of your keester and rake the leaves

It’s every year, the trees lives run their courses and enter the hibernation phase, l-air thieves

Unable to eat due to sleeping and nearly unconscious, evolutionary adaption to darkness’ fit

Due to the wobble, the revolving revolution and counter-clockwise orbit of viral bacteria chit.

On a One-Way street, a four lane highway or the expressway to your heart, I know the Ways

It will be what it will be not because it has a choice but because it’s a necessary condition, eh?

Braced for the outbreaks of airborne violations of min-bots in the form of microscopic plays

What goes up must come down, there’s no third choice of thieves, what’s yours is mine today.

What would Ayn Rand do if she found herself on the streets of a capitol city in California gold

I believe she’d be under a gag order to shut the Hades up and not allow free speech to the old

Used up by work, labor doing something for others’ everything’s everything, a universal papa

God invisible, unknown, occult viral contagion mutated into the holy birthplace of my mama.

Here’s a little something for your change purse in your handbag, two bits of a buck is all of it

Why and where to begin the plays of the story when it really doesn’t matter a microscopic bit

Horses harnessed, oxen burdened, the species’ genome is a legacy from the star’s soul’s shine

This sun of Apollo, of Zarathustra or any choice of Anunaki or the men in the moon, all mine!

by

r j j stephan, i *Header is my better 1/2, @CarolAnnStephan gazing at the sunset @PacificGroveCalifornia

c. Wednesday, February 26th, 2020 A.D. @ 4:44 AM Pacific Standard Time

{ Collected this soul addiction while listenin’ to Gregg Allman #ImNoAngel & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/NWNKHi2joJE }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.??