#FourFiveSix #PickUpYoSticks #YouCannotMakeThisSheetUpDown

SANDY DUNES & ADAM’S MAMA

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·  Saturday, May 9, 2020

----------------A hella snooze ----------------

Adam at one in a place’s Space where Time itself has run out of ticks, where I am now, here

So I walk alone in the darkness, under the moonlight, from dusk until dawn, creating the beer

In kegs, cans or long neck bottles, all the hops and grain making the alcohol of a mind’s hole

My paperclips have all disappeared from sight, neither on my desk nor on a mind’s eye soul.

If you can see deep into the miracle you cannot believe is true, you’ll know the Truth, all of it

First, you are not alive, you don’t exist on this planet or anywhere else in the universe, awshyt

But the importance of the consciousness of midnight blues of the purple people eaters scrum

No gods left over for the sewer of gravitational collapse, down a rabbit hole into a maelstrom.

UFO on the completed mission for the galaxy and it’s microscopic quarks that roll downhill

Not due to gravity but due to the weight of the thought, the idea, the ghost who runs the kill

Some live to eat and some die to keep the living alive, to be eaten and shat back into the scat

Where darkness and light exchange the photons, neutrons, psychos and sycophants did shat.

Ready to leave the planet’s ground of being? Nevermore, I won’t go, I will recycle to and fro

Gods and the emptiness of the Void, begin and end the whole shebang, I cannot tell a lie, no

It’s the Truth of the Way, it’s narrow and only one way from where you came from, go ahead

Tricks and the fools who perform these acts of contrition, I confess I am asleep in my hot bed.

Particular and general the magic comes and goes in and out of my conscious awareness, jerks

Just because you’ve lived inside of this comic book of divinity doesn’t mean you got the perks

Equality and neutrality are the qualities of a whore house of divine, #FakeNews of demonics

In a tailspin from the hilt of the atmosphere down to the core of being, holy carp, dirty tricks.

Fiction and Reality merge right now, you and I are here and now but soon won’t be, you get it

There’s no other option than complete, utter system shutdown, no soul, no spirit, zero output

Ends are complete, there is no other reason for the state, the reproducing of DNA and a funk

Cosmos’ inn of recycled star dust, burning hydrogen & helium, create elixir O2, I’m so drunk.

Pricks of a needle to inject the opium venom, making your mind swell & not care about scat

Alleys of Chicago, trash cans lined blocks, both sides of the backyards, it’s where I come from

Where I played hoops alone, nobody would play on my blue paint blackboard, broken, I’m fat

Bad-boy rotten apples were the city’s genii, struggled to survive in sand dunes of fake sitcom.

Tragedy that you rock and roll alone when there is a crowd, it’s a necessary condition for genii

Not being one, I assume that’s all the truth about a condition of being all too human, so funky

Amazing to be downtown, full of the junk in my veins, the wind of the city got me way too old

Into the present, back from 45 years, Desplaines to the Highlands’ lotus, loved my fool’s gold.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Saturday, May 9th, 2020 A.D. @ 4:11 AM PST

{ Drafted listenin’ to @Vanillafudge #YouKeepMeHanginON on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/R3ChToIvLRM }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#Queens666thReich #COVid2019 @SANTANA #SANTANA

WINNIN’ JOKERS SHAKIN’ HANDS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, May 8, 2020

------------------ #COVID2020 -------------------

Pawns moving slowly, slogging to the Ends they must reach because there’s shots in the bar

Yet there’s nothing to fear other than Fear itself, a @POTUS named Roosevelt declared before

The world’s war started again, fighting for the life of the young men, killing to get all of us

Miracle brings back a healthy state of being, the diseased deceased from other than a virus.

Poking your eyes out after they’ve been dotted by a hundred jabs, right and left hook punches

That is all I could do to help you at the fungus among us, plants, grass, roots of Texas bushes

Got a bead on the target, it’s moving and frequently stopping to smell the air, snortin’ sounds

Antlers still attached to the bull and the herd was far from base camp, backpack out 100 lbs.

It’s a tricky situation, if you don’t know what I mean by now, you’ll never know, two byte Or

That was a long way down the labyrinth to the bottomless, holy reverent One, a son of a beach

Exit stage to the right and never to the left, that’s onstage and there’s no comin’ back encore

Cosmic dust of the commission to collapse the matter into a byte of data, to be delete bleach.

Up and down the same ladder that comes out of nowhere, it leads to the same place in Space

Right in the pocket, buried in the sweet spot of the wood just before a 15 second crowd shout

In a pandemic or after an epidemic the trees and weeds still grow and burn and die, #CeLive

If not you, there would be another and there will be others either way, to breathe in and out.

Derby’s almost over when lights dim and you see the curtains fall on the stage, what the hay?

No way, I’ve got thirty or forty years left until I’m a hundred, one of the trophy winning idiots

Don’t you know who I am? It’s been a topic of idle conversation in empty circles, OK yeah?

Jokers reside within my conscious multiple personality, fragmented by the LSD’s microdots.

This ain’t a joke? You must be kiddin’ yourself then ‘cause I’m laughing so hard, I’m weeping

I am an honest and innocent man, being accused of lying and being guilty of original singing

Absconded DNA from minions, played games in programming, calculus’ loved a red hot oven

Bewitched to exist here, now, where I come from, it’s why they ain’t here, a loser’s cool coven.

Dust and lust down in the same matrix, makin’ morons and more of them than ever before

Since the first microbe, first micron, the last macrobe has come to be, winning with chagrin

It’s not what it was before today, it’s what it is now and what will be, no freedom, no choice

But to be or not to be aren’t the only questions, there’s one in tact, “Is Fear phuqyn’ wichou?”

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday, May 8th, 2020 A.D. @ 1:11 PM PST

{ Inspired listenin' to #Winning in a loop Devadip Carlos Santana https://youtu.be/0FmPg4lrBKc }
FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#Bandito #OSoloMio @WARtheBand @CCR @WillSmith #Alladin @TinaTurner @TheBeachboys #LostConcert

MIND AS WELL GO PANDEMICAL
by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, May 7, 2020

Your way of doing things is all programmed into your enculturation’s drilling K-12

One mindful way of causing order in the middle of chaos, to be or not to be is a joke

Nothing matters more than living healthy lives on Earth, this is all there is to them

Wisemen and High Priestesses know that the Truth is, reward comes post mortem.

It’s a boondoggle and a harbinger of things to come, before your last breath, hiccup

Whatever there was before you were born, it’s not here anymore, the matrix is caput

Dreams within the dream are turning into nightmarish daymares, all done, yikes!

Will you slide into home spike flyin’ high to weaponize your size 16” steel spikes?

History not made, future momentary lapses of reason may or may not be any kissin’

It may be caused by random collisions of particulate matter at events we’ve not seen

Punks and fools are good to eat for the masticating dragons waiting at a dining table

For the raw or barbecued meat from the 208 bones of each form, satellites or cable.

Curb your lack of enthusiasm before the Earth quakes and you fall deep in a hole

You will feel what that feels like when your understanding of reality takes its toll

Telling your children from birth through adulthood that you know anything, wrong

Right leaning conservative in a political environment of a mirage, sing sing a song!

I got some #FakeNews for you, this is the world at war, minions won’t know, you just a fool

Too late is just in time for what needs to be done, it’s a supernova in Holiness’ cess’ pool

Just because the rock spun and rotated around the star’s hood, as instructed high & low

Amen for the ones who wait for the Word, So Be It, open wide for the climax, you swallow!

Cocked and loaded in defense of the offenders and innocent offspring, the know nothing gods

About the fact that everything on Earth will cook, eventually, without the gods’ sinsin breath

Imperial kings & queens, czars & dictators, presidents & Horde warlords, all of ‘em at odds

Just because they think hot women are so pretty, the tribe endures battles to the Ends, death.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday, May 7th, 2020 A.D. @ 4:11 PM PST

{ Drafted while jammin’ to the mighty The Original WAR Band on youTube links @ https://t.co/uObA1ero7Q?amp=1}

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?