#Movement & #Overture #RhapsodyInYourFace @MorganWallen @BrothersOsborne @TheRascals

LINE UP THE WHISKEY SOURS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, August 29, 2020

---------- #BehindTheBehind ----------

Skipped the parts that I couldn’t understand, taking tests about the content of my character

Vacant of matter and energy which is lost if it’s ever found within the thing itself, I hurt her

Hometowns are accidental and depend solely on whether or not a Soul is ready to be alive

On the subject of the action verbs that move the objects and predicates, it’s all illusory jive.

I know one thing only, that is a tautological argument, I know Nothing, Everything is Void

In the condo, on the beach, on a date or deep in trouble with the order of the laws of psychos

Preening their feathers dead underground, six or three feet under, depending on Pink Floyd

Breath is taken out of your face and lungs, like it or not, Time and Space’s clock of cuckoos.

Seven up and Seagram's 7 flow the conscious animal into the river current of pure happiness

Way before the last call for alcohol, three sheets to the wind and passed out in the high weeds

Everybody lost track of my boots, so did I, my bare feet missed my @TonyLlama hot cowboys

Stumbled in and out of the saloon always gettin’ a shot and a pitcher of Ale, need some toys.

Unionized for the imperfect pouring of whiskey into empty glasses, need to think hard about

Facts and pretensions to help make it through the daily grind of moving in and out of doubt

Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, administrators, employers, y’all wanna be astute

I can’t create Reality, survival of foreign bodies is God’s double vision, so urgent to be caput!

She said I was out of line and there wasn’t a line at all, straight or curved, fast or slow, so true

Perfect to be a function of all there is, First Cause and the Big Bang fornicated the Big Bangs

Resolved by friction and spontaneous combustion, absence of form’s shapes’ crimson screws

Turning into the ultraviolet violins and the infrared trombones, holy rhapsody of the blues.

Fallen from trees, plateau cliffs and just tripped over my own size 10 clod hoppers, my Words

It sounds a certain way, leaves an impression of what can be repeated, tweeted like Freebirds

In or out of a pickle’s costume, dancing like everybody loves your moves, show off the delight

No chance to fail, success is the narrow Way I’ll always be right side, being wrong, let us fight.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Samadhi, August 29th, 2020 Anno Domini @ 4:11 PM PST

{ Took it down a notch, while listenin’ to the Brothers Osborne to #SlowYourRoll link @ https://youtu.be/0eERCG_pBUs )

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

Ready to Roll? One, Two, Three Margaritas, #HeySenorita #WellBeGone #DriveMeHome #TakeTheLongWayAround

SHOTS, GAMETES & CUTS OF A JIB *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, August 28, 2020

 - - - - - #WhiteCapsAreBreaking - - - - -

Wrung-out, false images post mortem, coming in sacred flashbacks from light hidden within

Little fagots are millionaires and the progeny of the liberators get welfare screwed magic men

What in Sam Hill at the planet’s core are we all doing here, waiting to live or die without me

That ain’t ever worked before and it’s not gonna work tomorrow or today, Hick Life’s for free.

The redundant reincarnation of the thing itself that is the First Mover of the Substance’s form

That is the nature of the Beast, a universal principle in particular, atomic quark of the system

Singularity punched up on the mighty Marconi, tuned into the Frequency modulation of Ala

Adam, Muhammad or Zoroaster or Genghis Khan please the powers that be, One that Is, Ga.

On being Substance, Form, the shape of molecular configuration during a Big Bang whimper

Moving keeps it real, reality of cosmic and infrared wavelengths and frequencies of the Fisher

Up and down, in and out, back and forth, repeat ad infinitum, white noise all in man, in kind

Specific to a reason why life breathes and thrives in the petri dish of microbes we never find.

Accident, irreversibly random without an ethical direction, immorality’s essence of mortality

In color or in black and white, the vision of the form outside and inside of the mind is of One

With the Word, the language of subjects, predicates and objects, the sixth sense drops it out

ESP, extra is not so much, it’s the essence of One man, woman & trillions of kids, divine fun.

Skunk buddies and the abhorrent smelling, burning leaves of the weeds of Mary, God’s Time

We all get the chance and some of us wave those rights to the lowly being the highest rhyme

Pink or blue blankets to welcome the infant girls and boys who’ve got a chance in hell to be

Earthbound, gravitated to the burned out star rock, Mother Earth, Walking God, now I see!

by

r j j Stephan Richard Joseph Stephan, I * #HomemadeSoulChowder #NameBabiesAfterMe

c. Vendredi, August 28th, 2020 A.D. @ 4:11 PM PST

{ Scribe down to Blanco_brown #TheGitUp link @ https://youtu.be/Q7U6AoZ27yE }

FINIS

HAIR OF THE DOG

W.W.A.R.D.?

#NothingAintAllThereIs #Wait #What? #BlackLabel #BlackPowDer #69 #SixtyNines #ThankYouMamaRIP

THANKS MAMA, $$ FOR NOTHIN’ *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, August 27, 2020

---------------------------------

All Time and Space in a thimble when you needed to mend the holes in my jeans’ knee rips

Just so that the scratch pops and you bled out of the holy 50’s & 60’s economy, rewards, RIP

For some ungodly reason, unknown to mankind, a matter of forming blind faith to control It

The Soul of the creature species which roll and rock with the evolutionary meandering of Ra.

Sun, moon, Earth, planets, stars, solar systems, galaxies and the whole shebang’s universal It

A thing itself, so very far away from all of us, none of us can see what it is, we know it’s there

Present now and in the Past when we weren’t here all alone, in the future when we will not be

Just an extinct thought of being alive on Earth, purpose just because you got lucky, so did He.

Now, then what is the explanation for continuance of the Absolute criterion for going infinite

Finite balance you see with your eyes, in and out of Time lines before you, I show you’re right

On to the Off position, lights out of your conscious awareness, Ego search for the miraculous

Law of the Substance of an unmistakable ethereal Nothingness, it’s all you got, that and MTV.

What was working? What was labor? What is your spent Time from birth to death? It’s me

What I am is what you are, species of seven continents that ne’er used to be here, #H2O free

In our church, under the dome of the place that keeps out the Space, the vacuum of our scum

We need every bit of it, here inside of the bubble, Nothing can escape or we’re doomed dumb.

Peace of this piece will move some and get a double take from others who can’t grasp reality

I didn’t make this up a minute ago, this has been evolving for thousands of moons’ epic bang

Thrust out of the cosmic spray which all of This was and still is, in atomic mutation’s dirt ball

In the end, it will be the way it always was, all money is for nothing baby, just Nothing at all!

by

r j j Stephan Richard Joseph Stephan, I * #AllGaVeSome #SomeGaveItAll #OORAH

c. Jeudi, August 27th, 2020 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

{ Scribe down to Dire Straits #MoneyForNothing link @ https://youtu.be/wTP2RUD_cL0 }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?