@PointerSisters #Gramma #ItWasWhatWas #DreamsPoof #DreamALittleDreamOfMe @DorisDay @EllaFitzgerald #LouisArmstrong

BARBARIAN BUSHWACKIN’ A VOID

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, March 6, 2020

-------------  #LINGERING  --------------

Everything is everybody’s concern, it’s yours and mine and even those unborn, ready to fight

Spirits within us and the spirits that will be in others as ashes return to ash and dust to putsch

I am the One in violent revolt for maybe nine months and some change, then I saw the light

Wide-open eyes see nothing but pure, amorphously formed shapes of things, resist we much!

Can a virus live in the wide open atmosphere? No? Then why are you disturbed about it, eh

You don’t know, I googled it from cyberspace, my iPhone’s smartest groove-gang, #Wu-tang

Your mama’s FB place in space, #FakeNews for us all to pretend to know what can never be

Thoughts inside of a mind, your own and everyone else’s, self-aware now of a huge #BigBang.

You got the i ching from Bodhisattva, it’s out of the bag from Krishna, Christ, Cain and Abel

But wait, monks ring bells, beat drums to remind the forgetful of the reason for being a shill

On this planet Earth, a long, long time ago, the ancestors lived with no wisdom of eye candy

Down the hatch to metabolize the emergency plan of coping with facts of life, fine and dandy.

Off of the road, driven by the wheels and spokes and rubber that animate astral, UV light Ga

All there is, everything including the space between the planetary things from the star’s Sin

Before and after your personal place in Space and Time, intentionally lured into Pa then Ma

There is no other choice other than using the mind, the brain’s power to annihilate the Gin.

Nuisance home of many people living in one four bedroom house, a lotsa fake friends of Hilo

From early in the morning until very late at night, party no more in my neighborhood, hobo

I won’t stand for it, I’m the only One you need to honor, neither your pa nor mama, just me

Over the hill extraordinary, chain smoking critical thought, Bugs Bunny of Siri play AC/DC!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday, March 6th, 2020 Anno Domini @ 7:11 AM Pacific Standard Time

{ Drafted while listenin’ to the Pointer Sisters #BetchaGotaAChickOnTheSide in an infinite loop today on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Jl26xPdY3IM }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#BabyBrotherAndMe #OnTheHunt @WARTheBand @LynyrdSkynyrd @SamAndDave

WHATEVER THEY BE...BYTES IT IS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, March 5, 2020

-----------------  #GrabAndHoldOnForDearLife -----------------

Miss me when I’m gone, a secret that nobody else knows, here’s an occult kiss, a certain bet

#FactCheck the #factoids and get in line with the logic and reason of rational thought, all set?

Like a jello molded into a circular design with the Philly cream cheese and fruity bottom hole

Way before I knew what to do with the naked apes in my future, I knew I had room for jello.

If, then at the alpha state of being there was an absolute Singularity of fake divine effulgence

Enter a random collision of Nothing with Something and here and now is what you get, gents

And ladies please forgive the manners we inherited from the naked apes, all your fathers’ sin

I am not to blame for the wrongs of your ancestors who may have hated their mother’s grin!

On course to be at the Ends where everything moves by crawling, floating, walking or flying

Those stars shining high in the sky every night when there’s no clouds full of alligator tears

Cries of poor and innocent, the rich and the guilty, all of the living become ghosts’ that sing

In the dream you can’t believe is not only just a dream but all that there is, everything i fears.

Inbound ethics justified morality of the behavior of naked apes, with robes and 3 piece suits

Good, the Bad and the most important Ugly animate the frames, one by one, step han steps

Regress to your conception and the conceptions of your ancestors through the stone age guys

Survival of the fittest means that you’re a product of the success, life on a dead star in demise.

Sycamore trees or the Evergreens and Pines, even the Weeping Willow, Elm and old Oak tree

Life underground with the roots that linger for eternity until the final blow of Big Bang mites

What I desire, what I want and what I need, all of that happiness in a nutshell, a dream of me

In Chicago conceived ‘round December ‘50, pops held mama tight, squeeze DNA, #TheBytes.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday, March the 5th, Twenty-Twenty In The Year Of The Lord Twenty Twenty @ 6:66

{ Inspired by The Original WAR Band youTube link @ https://youtu.be/QGIhRtDHTr8 }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

@TinaTurner #InterestFree #EyesDontCareEither @ZacBrownBand @FineYoungCannibals #CanniptionFit

STARDUST DRY, A FAKE LA BOMBA*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Wednesday, March 4, 2020

----------------  #GodSaveYourKing  ----------------

At bedtime when the bogeyman comes out from the closet or under the bunk bed, I’m hiding

Under the blanket as if that armor’s enough to save me, don’t want to be a raw meat nothing

Predators don’t care about your pedigree nor about your progeny but they will sip your blood

Going for the kill first so the thing can’t run off and make a lazy cat chase the thing, the food.

Wrong and full of the rights of the One who made the rules, the First Cause of the Movement

From being at rest, still as the night falls over the half of the Earth that becomes heaven sent

Of these mice and men who occupied the cinders, the dirt under fingernails type of grit, dig?

Tight squeezes of the fully armored host brings about the Singularity of the Phoenix, do a jig.

And then you move out of check with a fool’s mate that only works once on everyone but me

Pounding the zzzzzzzzz’s home before I ever knew I was tired, we all was weary with worries

No matter which way happiness was or is or will be, it’s not an option for a true cardiac seize

Pieces of candy to bribe allegiance to obedience to authority’s random throne, same old story.

I lifed up your host and your wino liquid candy, bread and blood of the gods’ divine son up

Never down from here, it’s not an option from a cradle to grandma’s hands, love’s china cup

It’s all ‘bout hair cuts and your threads, your kicks, serving mass in Latin on square blocks

Down on Damen and Grand, where I grew up on Superior, Huron, Erie and Ohio, the ‘hood.

On being the younger one, playing with snakes in the asphalt jungle, out of gramma’s hands

Dished out warnings, as it was supposed to be, freedom ain’t free, God overpaid the humans

Value of the nugget of data to know before you die is a game changer, your third wish’s blown

So, you don’t like the Truth, it’s God’s supernova man, apple core ain’t mine, Word’s known.

Unwed mothers and jailbird fathers from the penthouse and ghetto flat made no difference

Already gone and some not even arrived yet, the bodies of 208 bones will love the nonsense

Awake and hunting and fishing and fooling around until the sun goes down, then we groove

In the sand on the beach or at the red barn at the edge of town, chillin’ like a villain, I move.

Day or night of my final spirit trap there’ll be a coming to be, day One of the gods’ mortal sin

Full disclosure of the nature of Matter and Energy by Powers that came before us an our kin

All hands are on deck and all eyes wide open, thunder’s ready for an immaculate conception

Black and white or red or blue to the color blinded means that foresight is unseen concoction.

by

r j j stephan, i *header photo is ME circa 1955, I was a mean little MFer, workin’ my karma!

c. Mercredi 4 mars 2020 Anno Domini @ 11:11 AM Heure Standard du Pacifique

{ Drafted WHILE listenin’ to The Zac Brown Band #CantYouSee & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/P-eqfMb8s2I }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?