#FootsAreLoose #CutEmFreeMarie @KennyLoggins @CloGreen @DarylsHouseClub #GiggoloJuice @DavidLeeRoth

BEING EQUATIONS OF CONFUSION

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, July 5, 2020

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More on the Id after the Super Ego ensues its assault on stardust, introspected sand to pound

I am what I am and that’s the way this eternity is set in stone, rock hard as a boy’s first bones

Tossed into the middle of the ringmaster’s solo flight #952 disintegration at speeds of sound

Depressed the pedal to the metal, increased the velocity to the bitter ending of cells’ i-phones.

In the first and last moment of inhalation, we exhale the world as we know it, jump the fence

Just for #ScatAndGiggles we all cruise into the little divine intervention, an unseen presence

Dream is not real but the wake-up call brings awareness back to Earth, to the dirty, rotten kid

It is what I rolled with, finally began the medicine of electrolytes in my sweet cherry kool-aid.

Purple queens and black knights mated and lived short lives without the fear of dying soon

First the body drops blood pressure, shuts down consciousness, brain and nerves froze yous

Guardian of Freedom and Life on Earth’s golden dust created from a bang or a sonic boom

Self-deprecating humor aside, you and everyone you know are evolved germs, genius gurus.

Is it magic when a wish comes true right before your very eyes, or is that just an illusion bud

You made my dreams come true, I didn’t even know I was dreaming and then, light dawned

On me and on you, on everyone I’ve ever known, everybody here and now, past or future rut

It never changes because it can’t, it IS CHANGE and there’s nothing else left over, pi squared.

Like the 3.14 you can double it or cut it in two, it’s a cartoon that isn’t as funny as emptiness

Pineapples inside and outside of your purview and inside of your unconnected, locked nest

High or low on the list before you can fly, you’ve got a lot of nerve but it’s no match for rams

Taking the matter by the horns and the forms that it shapes from Willpower of God’s damz.

Good devils are alive forever and the bad angels fly back and forth above and below the shell

Atmosphere clear in one sense and in another sense, nothing a human can breathe, acid hell

Balanced on a tight rope with or without you, I move alone, animated rocks & bones of Papa

Wanting and needing to be in love, a humane fix of #FakeNews magic spells, bustin’ Mama.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Sunday, July the 5th, 2020 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to Clogreeno LIVE Daryl's House Club on youTube in a loop link @ https://youtu.be/GoXxdObGKuI }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

GODS HAM! #MamaMia #WeGood @MA @DonnaSummer

{}

6 ANGELS & HOT BLOWN 4 OF JULY

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, July 4, 2020

--------------------   #MA  --------------------

Time really doesn’t move the shadow on the sun dial, it’s the spin of the twist, a par 4 course

Rocks rolled after the center exploded from the gravitational pressure and centrifugal force

Teed off early and finished with a 111 for 18, my first 18 ever, my last 18 I’ll ever log & putt

I think that I gotta GTF outta here, because it’s not my thing chasing a lost ball’s deep rut.

My words and your ears that hear the string of alphabet soup breakin’ into your open wound

A head cavity filled with grey matter, to guide the local hero from event to event, lost or found

Day by day. night after night, dragged lines from first dawn to the last sundown, rain or heat

I’ll throw down with you or anyone else if necessary but it never is, nobody wants to get beat.

Peace and love from above only because it’s been decades of crystal blue persuasion’s smoke

From the camp fire to the forest fire to the wetlands and wet markets, gone bat crazy to croak

Love has nothing much to do with any of it, diamonds and gold can’t get the immortal keys

It’s just a monster’s bowling alley, we’re the pins and heaven and hell throw the trajectories.

Philosophical blues pulling the existential ego out of the genome, just for kicks, a quickening

More than ever before, your memory recollection about why you’re alive in privileged singing

I am the subject of objective reality, I diverge from a timeline from now until power intersects

Marx and a tiny proletariat dancer loosen the chains for the commune to implode for the sex.

Ruling bishops and royal court of kings and queens justify the Way by a quick manifesto jerk

A gentleman and lady will get their due, they paid their dues, suffering DNA of Thor’s mama

Just because you think you’re so pretty now and then, you gotta admit you look like ant scat

Saturday night in the house or outside the bar in the alley, either way y’all gotta go in a splat!

If you’re a big leader of a big country full of a gun powder keg ready to blow, just back off ‘em

You have no choice, you want to protect your citizens, your denizens, your parents’ offspring

This is a chess game and you know the rules when you’re in check, you gotta move that thing

Go home instantly as soon as you resign, a force to repeat future shocks, God’s ad infinitum.

Tempted to do the right thing to avoid the guilt and self deprecation, I love to hem the cuff

It’s a beautiful thing that we do when we do unto others as they’d do unto our guts, as above

So, below the hot stuff tonight or tomorrow above the matters and forms of the shock of love

Shock into the presence of what comes after the Past and before the Future shocks, hot stuff.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July the 4th, 2020 Anno Domini @ 4:00 PM PST

{ #ToTheVictorGoesTheSpoils #BeepBeep #HotStuff #BadGirls wrote while listenin’ to Ms. Donna Summer R.I.P https://youtu.be/kLjTYWcNzmg }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

@BozScaggs @STYX @BJThomas @VanMorrison

IT IS FINISHED, CONTRACT THIS!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, July 3, 2020

---------------------  #NotEvenAPlugNickel ---------------------

Fading away with the holy strings of your feline type of crowd, all ready to scratch eyes out

Don’t comply with Desire that moves the cats and you’ll be hissed at, talkin’ ‘bout yo’ mama

By the minions who only care about the water, the food and the phuq which kills the doubt

That there’s maybe nothing outside of the Earth and we all are living in the last resort of Ga.

Now and then here and there in Time and Space’s matrix, you gotta take control, don’t be shy

It’s not a time to be a little baby or a boy when it’s time to Rock and Roll, a fight for blue sky

Since the first day and up unto the final gasp of gas on the last day, the men and women talk

Of the men and the mice of the historical record that got the light to shine on Darkness’ ilk.

Yet the only thing stopping up or down from the stairwell to Cielo or Hades is You and Me

We are all going to die a mortal death with these 208 bones, like it or not, immortality mute

Except for the only One who can make it alone, it ain’t me babe, I believe an illusory creed

Pretend that knowledge which is power is obtainable but it ain’t, know nothing, just bleed.

Native North Americans lived by the shrinking body of water, dried out ash of the Good Fight

Great Lakes used to be a monster ocean, water evaporated and left the deep H2O Lakes of Ga

Earth keeps spinning and leaking the hydrogen into deep Space, point unknown, Egyptian Ra

My thoughts and trips between the bed and dark rooms I enter without benefit of violet light.

Meander around the cultural plantation for the bulk of existence, laughing, crying and dying

Never because you desire this existence but only because you’ve awakened, sword and shield

Wondering how to get food and shelter and friends to avoid pain, suffering in a killing field

To be divine is to be human without fear of Death, to be ‘all too human,” Chicago’s crying.

Punishment for the crime against humanity is eternal banishment from the herd, dead meat

Which is what life was before it fell away from your skull’s bones to the ash of me and Levon

Science and Religion metabolize into the gravitational collapse of the invisible divinity’s feet

Leftover atoms of gas, expanding and contracting until the Singularity mutates It into Avon.

Rags in ragtime and riches for Richie Rich, all of it is a necessary condition for a wasted shat

Taking it all away, subtracting the stuff from nothing leaves nothing at all, that’s a blown fact

What you don’t know WILL hurt you and what you Do know won’t, it’ll take y’all way higher

Than monks and apes hidden in caves, armed to the teeth, waiting for God to kill for hellfire.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday, July 3rd, 2020 Anno Domini @ 6:66 AM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to #RaindropsAreFallingOnMyHead by BJ THOMAS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/sySlY1XKlhM}

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?