#TuesdayTwiceThriceDice #HungryAndUnderfed #OldJazz #TwoAndFive #AllThatJive #SixFeetInTheClay #DirtyLittleSnake

ZYGOTE BALONEY, ME & A TROLL

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, August 11, 2020

****************  #BrokeNews ***************

It’s all the atoms in the world in One ion, so tiny it’s nearly invisible to an electronic scope

Like a quark, it’s gone the moment it’s in a space in time, a constant of animation on dope

With or without the essence of the dream being fleshed out into the analysis of Reality’s Id

A thing itself that you are so in tune with you have no idea that you are what it is, you’re It.

Fortune or not, it’s a matter of being in the right place in space at the right moment’s time

No other way to do it, it’s got nearly nothing to do with intention and desire, that is the rub

I’m told it has everything to do with my own personal power to cause effects as I desire ‘em

Think about this or that and boop, there it is like magic behind a full court press of fake love.

In a play, in a movie, on a stage or a natural mother scene, land, air and sea, link wind blows

Every single one of the living things, human or any other species of animal-plant, One & done

Coming into prominence with a doctorate in Meta-logic, nobody alive to disagree with holes

Where every argument goes with propositional predication, conclusions, command illusions.

Gas blown, rocks cracked, crushed and annihilated in the Bang of the Bigs, doin’ the Irish jig

Feelings of the electronics causing the static and getting the ending in order for a Singularity

Spies only because of the way of warriors, wanting to know the defense of a silly, dilly dilly

Before the hammer comes down, a hero comes home to cajoling by draft-dodgers, gods dig?

In the outside of the inner sanctum, there’s no air to breath so you can suffocate or suck it up

You didn’t ask to be conceived into this life but now that you’re here, it’s all on you, your bag

First Cause you are of everything you do, it’s not your coach or mother’s or father’s fault, see?

Your invisible soul has an indelible memory, you are obligated to be human, what I am to be.

by

r j j stephan, I

c. Mardi, August 11th, 2020 A.D @ 1:11 PM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to Ray Charles #TheBirthOfSoul #SoulDeepOne on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/f3AFhSsRyyk }

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FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#InequalityRulesTheCosmos @WARtheBand @TheBeatles @PaulRevereAndTheRaiders3n #NoKarenInTheMix & the @WTOrg

THE MASK, NO SNAKES ATTACHED

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, August 10, 2020

------------- #NoCreditRequired --------------

New masks stick to your face’s soft skin or beard, no need for the ear thingies to hang fire

Finally we can breathe freely again without the horrible strings that are always attached

Captain obvious giving the lowdown on the latest crowd control feature, our funeral pyre

Grim news that you may or may not grin and bear, not bare or nekid just a grin detached.

If it’s your custom to cover the nose and lips of the woman, you’ve succeeded as a dove

Eyes are most important when you see what’s underneath them, everyone has eyes’ sin

Which is to look and see what attracts the inner genome to reproduce it’s own, kind of

Or exactly the DNA swarm that evolution adheres to, beauties and beasts of the session.

It might be yellow or blue, plain white or logo of your favorite team or life’s immortal blue

Bottom line is, you keep your carbon dioxide inside of your body when y’all breathin’ slop

You and your hated and loved ones all lived on Earth with viruses for centuries, now too

Games played when you were a Karen on @KarenRecordsInc big time voice of Ginger top.

As a prima face type of argument, full of assumed to be true propositions leading to the Ends

Conclusions both induced and deduced from the morass of minion dribble of word saladings

Performed for the audience of nobody but the getting ready to die, while still alive, my friends

Substance of the murders and killing for your country’s liberty is death of your moms & dads.

Whatever you do, don’t do it without your eyes being open, wide opened to the world of gods

Third World enclave of the mothers and sisters from the West side of Chicago, kill no robots

You and I see the things that matter most to the law abiding, gangs of light feet, Marx gasps

Out or in, off or on, life and death is the serious thing that’s happening, laughing off my asp.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Lundi, August 10th, 2020 A.D. @ 6:66 AM PST

{ Intelligence of the counterintelligence to name my huge Space and Time matrix, #Duh! This piece achieved while being inspired by The Beatles #BeatlesForSale on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/SUQD8MwEOfs }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#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.?