@FreakingFunky

PUPIL, IRIS, SCLERA & TBONE VOID

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, July 6, 2020

-------------------  #HighDeeHigh --------------------

A moment in Time after I woke up from a dream within a somnambolistic stupor, eyes blink

I’m present right here in this place in Space, right this very second of this day, at sea’s tundra

On top of the world just spinning with the revolution in perpetuity, on the way to a supernova

Common knowledge and fake wisdom to fill in the spaces between the ears of skulls of stink.

Amen, as the minions would say as they reproduced the sycophants who trumpet the feats

Compared to tomorrow, today is on my list of favorite days I’ve ever lived during Dixieland

Disgusting yet all there is to it, mixed in the middle of a deposit of Suzy Q’s whipped cream

I know you’ve got what it takes to move the subject and predicate the objective wet dream.

Mine or anyone else’s thing is what we do, we do our thing, we do what we wanna do, Yes?

Scarlet scars defacing the stone granite shape of a memory, eaten by the enemy of the Fez

It’s the deep state secret that’s got this taken desecration of California States of falsehoods

Bludgeoned and treated with kid gloves to make sure you gave a bad review of the goods.

What is the nature of the beast within and the One before an arrow bulls eyed water fjords

Microcosmically imperceptible yet clear as the day, twelve roses for a sociopathetic handle

The pristine nature of the tweaking up and down the frets in liberty and indentured shackle

Among the painful yet essential realities of the perfect union of blues and rhythm war-lords.

I am going to punch the eyes out of the guardians when they return from their 3 hour tour

Not literally of course but I am going to rerun the entire history of humanity from day one

To the present and near future where angels had feared to go until today, I called the bluff

I could have been wrong and getting burnt to a crisp in Hades, punk I am and tough enough.

Nothing comes, goes and comes back again, that’s a myth of the workin’ honky tonk rednecks

Skin in the game to pursue goals of search and destroy, as if the holy spell itself ever could

Punks and grieving warriors’ spouses all in paradise, seeing a gift of old school rubbernecks

As if I’d fall for BEING normal, like I was born yesterday or never born at all, wish you would.

Jokes are all on me, from 1st to last hilarious guffaw beyond the pale, hit on the darker side

Painted scenes on canvas or concrete, sung and printed words to see and take a free to ride

To the places you’ll never get to in real life in the boondocks or the swamps, out of my reach

Of alligators and bullhead waiting to live longer than your deeper monkey in a burnt roach.

Devils play no fiddles and there ain’t no hickory stumps up in heaven, C. Daniels full moon

Fire flyin’ from your fingertips now and the melody and rhythm is catchin’ the soul all alone

Inside or outside of this bread pan where the birds feed, pickin’ out the lies told before noon

Monkeys elated, gangsters’ gigs, evolved from the cavemen, RIP’d spacemen soon, real soon.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Monday, July 6th, 2020 A.D. @ 8:45 PM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to Stevie Ray Vaughan & Albert King #DontLieToMe https://youtu.be/-ZL2b4O3nz8 }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

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

BEING EQUATIONS OF CONFUSION

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, July 5, 2020

--------------------  x x x -------------------

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.?