#ricoSacto

Wednesday, April 01, 2020

#FOOLS & #HITMEN

HITMEN, WHISKEY & HOT WATER!
Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, April 1, 2020
--------- AN R.J.S. PRODUCTION ---------
NYC to Miami to Chicago and Milan to Los Angeles’ holy black tar mud, extinction species Id
In the deep psyche, in the marrow of the hillbilly bones, moment comes and goes into a skid
No way to stop it, stand in front of it only to be smashed into a flat bone-bag of dripping glee
Comin’ out of nowhere baby because you loved someone deep inside of them, 1 planted seed.

Comfort in the warmth of the nest where nobody ever goes except you and your lover, just 1
None other needed with the open minds of the open vacuum holes in valleys, hollars of fun
Never married so never knew the joy of the ecstasy that comes and goes with the north wind
Hidden until it’s the Time in Space to multiply geometrically, to avoid the species extinction.

On to the path you got off of many years ago, it’s still there ready to be tread upon, never fear
You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last that animates the lump of flesh and bone’s veneer
Lookin’ at the reflection in the mirror, the image is accurate only in the light, now it is so dark
Even Bubba can’t see in the dark, gotta feel with fingers and feet, we bums in a Chicago park!

By the lake or on the outskirts of the southside where angels fear to go, stockyard ready bullet
Ready for your cattle necks to be inserted into holy ends, beheaded meat to amalgamate chit
Open minds on barbeque fired up heat, charcoal, hot rocks, wood or gas heat, we gonna eat
Party on the patio or the veranda or balcony of the high-rise, yell it loud now y’all! HeeHaw!

Flinch when I wave my hand at your face, duck and cover because it may be your only chance
Death blows and life does it’s best to compete with the #HeadBanger, end of the God’s dance
You had stone-blind faith in Things you could never see, dead men leftovers for kin-cousins
Eyes to see and ears to hear before the Action, the 1st Movement, the Rhapsody in blue jeans.

I drove in the sticks more deep than ever before, down into the ground of being, Hell & Me
It was a trip from the LSD acid and the weeds on fire, inhaled and exhaled for Mescalito tea
Just a product of Parochial mesmerization, an altarboy spoke Latino for God’s stone creepers
Old ladies & old dead men walking up the aisle for the body and blood of the Saved, jeepers!

Transubstantiation of water into wine and bread into flesh, consumed as cannibals ought to
Eating their God and sucking the blood in to thank the divine for the precious moments to be
Allowed to be or not to be, brothers and sisters with an important question for all, WTF over?
Gave me that look, let me down easy and I thank you, #HIT me, it’s how we got here l’il lover.

by
r j j stephan, i
c. APRIL FOOLS’ DAY, 4-1-2020 A.D. @ 08:00 AM PST
{ Twisted out of my genome this AM, the muse had me over a barrel therefore, created listenin’ to the PRINCE ... The Living Legend 💜 link @ https://youtu.be/H9tEvfIsDyo }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

#ThereThereNow #SettleDownOrYOUllHaveAnAneurism

YONDER, YON, HITHER & THITHER
Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, March 31, 2020
-------------- #TickTockTickTock -------------
Unholy to the taste of the holy and reverent souls in tallyho bodies of human runes’ bones
Trebles and bass in a concerto playin’ the sharps and flats like there’s nothing left to say
But every day is today without fail, even yesterday for a moment was the ol’ rolling stones
For the philosophers to collect before they die to see the Truth and pretend in the replay.

We all heard the rocks sing it hard and soft, in the studio and on the road, cops searched me
For the answer to the question that nobody knew to ask, what’s the answer to a rea; mystery
Extrapolated in the form of syllogistic arguments, in a rational, logical method, listen my son
Philosophers’ stones roll down a volcano after an eruption of fool’s gold & silver tons of fun.

I can’t recollect my first scream but I assume it was quite a bellow comin’ out of the darkness
From the warm and dark blood fest in the mama womb, I got decades of use out of the egg roe
Fertilized by only the gods know what, microscopic flagella searchin’ for the home’s river flow
Only one vacancy for the One but not for the many who will fail the trip & die a hero demise.

Hearing what only deaf animals can hear, seeing only what blind men can see, that’s a trip
Reality of one’s perception of the world is tantamount to being happy and living on the flip
Meaning something subtle and no doubt incomprehensible to the rational being, logic is up
Irrationality is goin’ down like it or not, I’ll get the gist of it before my last gasp’s gold cup.

Periwinkle and scarlet are the colors of my shield, force field around my lead turned it to gold
Wherever I go, any direction, up, down or North, South, East or West, I get where I gotta go
Here and now is a miracle only dead men can’t get a grip on, if you’re alive, you’re in this jive
There’s nobody who has ever been born on this planet who ever died just to forever stay alive.

Punks all gone now, they’ve lost their lives to the hither and thither, beyond the yonder bench
To be or not to be the man that walks softly in the sandy beaches of the coast, that’s the ticket
All of it is all you know, stop thinking that you don’t know it all since there’s nothing to pinch
Can’t steal anything that’s already yours, you’ve no reason to own it, you are what it is, slick!

by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mardi, March 31st, 2020 A.D. @ 6:25 PM PST
{ Drafted while listenin’ to the #PhilosophersStone in a silver-lined loop by Van Morrison link @ https://youtu.be/hrsq1werkfs }
FINIS
W.W.A.R.D.?

#WholeWorldInMyHands or was it He? #StruggleOn #WaitUntil2080AD

POTUS’ SCUTTLEBUTT BRAIN TRUST
by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, March 31, 2020
------  #TERRORisWELCOME  ------
Too busy for this complicated mess, we can’t get any work done, death snuck-in unheard of
Hillbilly bones deep down inside of men and women in the parties with tater ships of a dove
Born to run and rule the roost of the masses who need to be told where & how to be the herd
They had no idea at birth in Time and Space, queens, kings, princes, princesses of the absurd.

This is my song I’m singing about the city and the country girls, this ain’t no war’s love fest
It’s all in the jeans, those two pegs below your heart and soul’s pretty face and bone’s best
Get the jump on the rest of the herd bein’ related to the stud bull and head cow of the DNA
No choice that it’s just a matter of natural selection, the strong survive, the weak die today!

There’s just not enough Time on Earth to do everything that a spirit needs to do amidst chaos
Ultimate apex and core of the center of the cosmic egg, abstracted from the dead & gone loss
Mothers of the Earth born to run the show and allow the studs to be led by nose ring bull-sit
No hiding except behind the brain malfunction genes, mothers let the gene splices survive it.

There never was anything wrong with being lost in Paradise’s garden with nobody to screw
Just as you got adjusted to the solo flight, Adam or whomever you decided to leave as legend
Got all depressed and started crying to the creator for company, somebody to love, not a man
So, here we are, fans of the first and the following ones that got a city and country queen tan.

Pretty little queenies comin’ out of the woodwork from the fathers and mothers who conjured
The magic bone matrix that moves to the sway tunes of the country saw on the fiddle endured
Talkin’ country-city girls in green jeans, long sweaters, blouses, long dresses and short skirts
No reason for expectations to be unreasonable but they are, therefore, never expect any flirts.

Tempting your attention to move from yourself to somebody else without any payoff to flow
Downriver attention to absorb whatever bytes of ejaculated DNA survive, as above, so below
Function of the equations of signs and lines drawn on white chalk’s black boards, E’s squared
You’re the Mass and Light needing Beatles and Beatniks to couple, beatin’ your knees in bed.

Eggs split and sometimes they just come on down together, same time, same place, Easter pi
3.14 of the saving creator who made the mess and tried to clean it up, failure is all we’ve got
There was no saving for the entire creation, preaching to ones who believe there’s no reason
To be or not to be, more or less half of the world’s multi-lingual bone bags, a century begone!

Hillbillies ain’t as silly as first thought, they have an ear to the ground, it’s quakin’ & shakin’
No accent when you hear the word made flesh has returned for the Rapture, the rupture Sin
Immortal rocks that roll around in circles as the broken bits of the super nova futuristic past
South of Queens or in Nero’s fallen nation y’all be honkytonk rockin’ a huge Trumpian blast.

by
r j j stephan, i
c. March 31st, 2020 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST
{ Drilled this out of the lead & turned it into shiny gold while listenin’ to @BlakeShelton & Trace.adkins #HillbillyBone in a loop link on youTube @ https://youtu.be/OGoiiwxTWeE }

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