#MoneyForNothing #SweetNothings

DRONE SEARCH FOR A JELLY ROLL

by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, March 25, 2020
----------------  #JustSkipIt  ---------------

I was lookin’ for silver linings in the cumulus clouds but all I found was a philosopher stone

It was a little bigger than a pebble but not as big as an Irish potato, fit right in my palm bone

My best friends all died of going far away from me and losing my phone number in blue skies

Philosopher’s stones all over the roads and highways but they’re invisible to the naked eyes.

Plump like a fat arsed kid who eats nothin’ but white bread without the crust, husky little kid

To be grown up into six and one half feet of skin’s bone, mastered a PhD in metaphysical fizz

Heads up, hands down the master of the muster to get up and go, awakened so I went & hid

From the boogy men and the witches from the hollar, down by the swamp’s monster bizz.

Snow on the ground, ice on my windows, my engines froze but still turning over for the seize

All cylinders down and out from a metal merger, heat burned them into One, present to past

No creator of the motion, just a hunk of plastic and metal full of dinosaur oil and disaster gas

Makin’ the moves and the love that needs to be made for the sake of a genome’s survival fest.

All alone in the heavens between stars, black and blue but feelin’ good at 455 degrees below 0

Squared cubed gold from lead & sulphur, on this burnt cinder we’re wandering about a flood

Punked for decades, millenia with inadequate, false extrapolations of an invisible dead God

Truth interpreted by monks, nuns, brothers of our mothers n’ fathers, play that violin #Nero!

In form, out of shape with infinite content, an amorphous existence, something in particulars

In general, you can’t put your finger on it but it’s right there, gold lining in silverclouds’ liars

Darkness and a loud engine droning making me think that I’m the thing itself and I am all in

But who I’ll be, because of who I was, whatever I was, not a boy or a man, just all too human!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi 25 mars 2020 Anno Domini @ 7:11 post meridiem

{ DRAFTED WHILE LISTENIN’ TO #PhilosophersStone by VanMorrison on youTube link in a loop @ https://youtu.be/PghOffQ-BrI }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#Quarks #QUIRKY #QuickSand #SweetEscape @GwenStefani

BLITZ THE QB &AIM AT ONE KNEE*

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, March 25, 2020

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An amorphous blob of gold inside you and now effin’ up a hacking cough’s intent elbow dread

Where you came from and where you’re going when it’s all over, said and done, are we dead?

Nothing more nor less than the absolute Truth and Nothing at All but the Truth, duh, you say

Blues played me like a sharp harp on the way to pearly gates, paid no attention to, No Way!

Here and there you’ll creep like a bug but scared of US who want to survive, to be the most fit

Able to defend your own life and loved ones lives, middle of chaos and extinction immanence

Center of my personal attention is what is right in front of my nose, I am blind in the highlights

Sun’s explode now and then when gravitational collapse moves the unmoved mover, Shyster!

Smog and fog when it’s dark of night is a haze to die for, traffic with head and tail lights to kill

For me and you and everyone else that is animated with the dead food, plants and animal fats

We will survive, women & men, descendants of original denizens of caves in the holy grounds

Foundation in the substratum, deep inside the black hole we’re in, mother’s milk lost, found.

Last breath soon to come when you least expect it, you just do NOT want to know when, cuz

It will suck your hope out of your soul, which you really have no reason to suspect, L.L.T. South!

Deadly virus, deadly dictators all put us to death without the normal fan fare, just caput, dust

It was always like it is today but without radio, TV and NewsWords, Word of a mighty mouth.

Tattletales gossiping, flapping human gums, with chicklets, choppers and their spooky bone

I got a mask, it’s on your face and not mine, I won’t need to breath fresh air where I’m goin’

You’re a moron, you’re an idiot and no freak of nature, it’s the nature of the species’ genome

Run the gamut, ready, set GO y’all better move, #Windows are closing, I am skull’s gnome!

Mighty Mouse and Mickey Mouse they forced fed Disney to the kids, now they rule Earth biz

WTF are we going to do with this barbaric behavior? Get loaded and chill on the viral webs

Gods and men move the ways and paths as the world spins & wobbles in famous, fake celebs

Around the vacant Space between the matrix and the personality you claim is yours, OM is.

by

r j j stephan, i *hEaDeR is #DEATH warmed over!

c. Mercredi, March 25, 2020 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ Drafted while alternating between Armstrong & Getty on Talk 650 KSTE & the The Beach Boys #FiftyBigOnes on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/4LkgyvWSlcM }

<3 span="">

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#NakidJackArse #Godzilla #KingKong #CoronaMyArse

PHILOSOPHER STONE HOLDUP, RA

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, March 24, 2020

------------------ #ItsTricky ------------------

Well, finally got a chance to use my degree in a bachelor of arts in a sentence of philosophies

Nothing in particular other than the very first a priori argument I ever effaced, which I seized

Utter strangulation of the thing itself, a Oneness that probably exploded into our bags of food

Not because of meanness or revolution or retribution or punishment but for a bad, real Good.

Think about this, clear mind toward justice and a foundation upon the Truth, gents & ladies

If you were going to die someday before any virus came out of the Void’s outer space Hades

Breaking gaping holes in the atmosphere is like shooting rockets out of a nucleus’ sacred cell

Punching Space with a sacred incense aroma/odor Godzilla: King of the Monsters’ ah, #Hell.

Let us pray not to the inside of your eyelids but to the sun above that heats what’s left of me

In the movies, on the stages, in your paid off homes, rented flats and bungalows, take a knee

Like you’re on the football field of a hundred yards (years) and your ages young as veal chops

To advise you of Wisdom in the KNOWLEDGE left on the stoned, cold-fired up clay Cheops.

Silver lined clouds, golden rocks buried beneath, pyramids, mountains and rivers, It Is alive

Talkin’ about this ball of rollin’ stones I keep putting deeper down into my soul, in a beehive

Where no other worker bees or queens are all gone away to laugh at Larry, Curly and ol’ Moe

I’m the keeper of the meat on the ghost’s bones, where evil, nasty men and women fear to go.

Time in this Space to awaken the dreamin’ youngster over a billion years old, all alone again

Without and with everything on Earth, on the moon and in our solar system, our star’s gin

I found that the empty lining is the philosopher’s stone in my empty pocket, dust and change

From Chattanooga to Chicago, NYC to San Diego up to Portland-Seattle, my domain’s range.

Peek above and over the top of the poles, the same space is empty and there ain’t nothing else

Over the top, probably but in the search for the philosopher’s stone, you had to absorb Celtics

Lore for your reminder that you came from somewhere else other than Earth, inside the Sun

I need the hard rocks of God’s heat of Ra, a Ma & Pa of our own holy kin, we’re the Gold One.

I walk alone without you and you do the same once you gasp that last breath, you’ll be fine

Streets and roads all covered up with the H2O that we all know, it’s flooded and all good now

Water has killed the evil bacteria and the man-made viral infections of skin and bones of Ra

Gods of the Greco-Roman are not happy and neither are Yahweh, Krishna nor mighty Zeus.

Recovery from the inebriation during the entry to the narrow Way, eat viral porridge of a bat

Drunken stupor started my life at nineteen, searched for a home day and night, high and low

Couldn’t find it ‘til right before I started writing about this silver lining I found, here and now

Tally ho, let’s go from Alpha to Omega, GOT STONED, I’m on to It, I don’t know, #HolyShat!

Extinction is nothing but a word until the thing that it stands for exhibits itself, here and now

Once it’s on the way to the end, it’s like going over the cliff, no turning back from hehl below

Search moves from the pinnacle to the receptacle in a Black Hole after the Super Nova blows

I know it’s a bummer, you elder hippies and younger yuppies preceded the millennial flows.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mardi, March 24th, 2020 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to VanMorrison’s #PhilosophersStone in an finite loop, lyrics are important, melody is important, the voice is #Key link @ https://youtu.be/PghOffQ-BrI }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?