#ItIsFinished #NoItsNot

ROCKIN’ HARD BING BONG, JAZZ

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, August 9, 2020

----------  #DoNotStop ----------

Dreams I will have or not, come true every single time, no dream means nothing to see here

Astronaut confirmed, something is moving quickly in space and it’s not the Humans of fear

I had a secret but I found out that everybody already knows this fact of life, replicate and die

Or don’t replicate, just live and die in L.A. or Chicago, London or Tripoli trying to get so high.

It’s not my fault that the lame apes are rattling their cages, I hear the commotion loud & clear

For the purpose of being, origin of human DNA is a ghost pretending to work for white bread

I’m begging you to walk along the watchtower without me, a step away from a shot and a beer

Negative interest & neutral power idling, pistons combusting sparks of coitus’ fruit of dread.

Black hole sun, a son of gun, every man’s everything, worries and intentions of the realm

Where and when things happen is right there in front of our very eyes, what we see is film

At 5 or at 10, either way the things themselves wander and wonder about the nature of life

Universe down to the quark, it’s all one and the same, the unknown, it’s all about my wife.

Attempting to forget about the fact that you are dreaming, sleeping in your ma’s father’s bed

Flowers or feathers both softer than the rocky crags of a dead star, Earth’s ground, the dead

Miraculous conviction and blind faith in the Word and the Given, as if Life depends on This

Speech, sounds, songs, sweet nothings in her ear, I am her Father, take my daughter in Bliss.

It’s on the road, the purple and silver projectile of the Greco-Roman spear-gun, a remote rat

Thoughts left over once flesh and bone rotted back into the Cosmic Stew hodgepodge in a vat

I’m alright now and nobody worries about me, no worries, it’s all good, we’ve got this mirage

It seems real, it is not real, it’s an illusion of confusion, it’s what we do, how we roll on stage.

Portions of the broadcast are pre-recorded as opposed to post-recorded, it will never, ever be

Once it’s transmitted into the ether, it’s at the point of no return, there’s no rebate or do over

Everyone and everything is in the same ocean liner, it floats until it sinks, locked in a coffin

Of and for old Davy Jones the monkey and the pirate’s seven seas’ foundation of mortal sin.

Nice to sin in a vacuum where accountability is a no brainer, if you act, you are the bad actor

Once an act is performed, the actor’s responsible for repercussions, slams of Thor’s hammer

Thunder Bear & Thunder God both reign above and below the empty vacuum, it’s all Homer

Comedy and tragedy, my Royce ride, I’m what it’s become, a word-up-Pin, there Is no Other.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Dimanche, August 9th, 2020 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ Ruptured the fabric of Space and Time this AM, while listenin’ to the mighty #WARtheBand #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/hKmGUIM1uAI }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#CrayCray #OnIt #GalacticGuardians

SWEET LORD, #CHITOWN HOOKS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, August 8, 2020

------------- #BLENDED -----------

Women and men shading their nekid kid and give their best shot to fool the inner 6th sense

That all of these mothers and fathers know how to tell their kids that they will eat ignorance

Told not to worry and everything will turn out fine if you keep on crankin’ out the miraculous

Fine in the end and so fine appearing in the form of beauty, natural with or without all of us.

Now, later I’ll tell you what happened before you were conceived as a kid on the block, Thing

Nothing more nor less than you’ve been taught by the family you trust. all boxing’ in the ring

Formula One or Forty Nine matters not even a twit, it’s all sayin’ nothin’ while makin’ noises

In a formula with no recipe written down with directions to create, two wrongs make it right.

Squirts of the Truth squeezed out the turnip greens of farmland dirt, crust of Earth’s butter

Naughty yet natural in the mind of the beholder, speaking from experience I’m not bashful

Needing and wanting inside of the 208 bones and miraculous experience of pains to suffer

Working for the score to become even-Steven, as if it ever was in the first place, be merciful.

Cause of all these effects from Earth’s core to outer Space is an Unknown, almighty specter

Supreme Being, First Mover of Everything in the Cosmos, in every atom, a molecular factor

Songs of beats and twangs, voices of air and convulsing lips and throats, sugar a pretty mate

If you have a sweet one, you’re mating will succeed, if not, it’s a lonely life ‘til your last date.

No can do, can’t love you because you aren’t the One that I’d die for, I’d have to let y’all go

But for The One, a funeral pyre is all I can hope for, I can’t sit on star clouds in Space, yoyo

Never a chance I’d be good boy in Hehl either, probably organize a break out, a reincarnate

Be that as it may, being as such is a matter of a dream form, displayed for a cool, fake fate.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Samedhi, August 8th, 2020 A.D. @ 8:88 AM PST

{ Jammed this out while listenin’ to Marvel Comics #GuardiansOfTheGalaxy soundtrack link @ https://youtu.be/pS33w9vnJHI }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhatIsTheRecord #BareNakedLadies #AlwaysInVogue #HootieAndTheBlowfish @JimCroce @Madonna #Hackensack

FAR AWAY SIDE DISH OF THE VOID

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Friday, August 7, 2020

************** #VOGUE ***************

Love ya ‘til I die little queenie, you choose from the gallery of adolescence in the cosmic stew

Found on road, dead as a door nail, unable to resurrect the corpse, who’s no savior of the few

Singin’ birds, croakin’ toads, like my daddy did, not as sweet tears flow from clowns and fools

Songs’ words in and out of rhythm, rhyme, sonnets, epic sagas, I love me when my lip drools.

Dreamt of the Narrow Way and passed by the Matter and Energy into the cities of the angels

The words used to open the doors were like magic, I’m pleased and I’m thankful for the real

Making something nice and beautiful out of the ash and leftover crust of a burned, dark star

American Way or the Other Way or no Way at all, from Tibet to Tallahassee and back, so far.

Wishing and hoping for the Faith and Charity from that Hope will not uncover the far Ends

Pleasant or joyful, only One Way my genome wants to be, martyr toward all the evil friends

From the origin of the production of the zygote unto the remaining, disturbing memory too

Life’s a living thing, animated or anchored, grounded, flyin’ in clouds, try on a dream shoe.

Bridges built by humanity up to the top of the world’s center of being, angels fear to go there

What is old, Old York where the things themselves moved about the Bronx and Brooklyn fair

Songs sung, poems read, hair pulled out by the roots, all the passion of a Jersey Devil quack

Deprived and inhumane, we enter Doom, roller derby queens found a dark bar in Hackensack.

Words coming out of my mouth, produced from the jumbled thoughts of those who died then

After they thought about thoughts and jumbled them into a coherent philosophy of my zaZen

On the rats and the civilized apes who came long before my arrival in the mother’s void room

A gift of climactic passion dangled as a reward for inseminating the holiest emptiness’ tomb.

Slow down your roll mighty One from nowhere I know, not from this Earth, a soul of the gods

Roaming without a final destination in an immortal comet’s tail of smoking cinders, Hot-rods

Forms of the matter come and go,regardless of the ethics or morality of the Wills in all Things

To be animated or cease moving, stepping stones, look through a telescope at Saturn’s rings.

All of the remains to remember when the Past was the Present and the Future that never was

Anywhere you walk in my footsteps, you will get to where I got to, Ends like the origin, rock

Nothing is more cold than being all alone in a huge universe without anyone but One’s face

Everywhere I go to breathe the gas, it’s always there but I heard there’s emptiness in Space.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday, August 7th, 2020 A.D. @ 7:11 AM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to @BareNakedLadies & #IfIHadAMillionDollars &  #OneLessSetOfFootstepsOnYourFloorInTheMorning Jim Croce & #GreatestHits on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Y-55nhfkn4Q }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?