#GoneAndForgotten #NoProblemo #WakeTheFemaleDogsUp #GoStraightToHehl

WOKE SOULS EAT THE BOGYMEN!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Thursday, September 3, 2020

***** boots need knockin *****

Woke up in the middle of the daymare you can never see first hand, it’s deep inside my dope

Frozen freaks and spectacular perfect forms of the way men and women used to be, you see

It’s not a matter of me or you liking what it’s always been or what it’s gonna be in a century

All Jose Cuervo tequila and black jack down my gullet and through my nervous system hope.

This pathos and comedy should keep you and I wide awake 24/7 but we’ve gotta get shut eye

#18 hours every day, 24 hours of data broadcast into my cerebral cortex to become a 3.14 pie

In geometric progression from your lips that the unmoved movers of the things themselves

Substance involves the atomic and sub-atomic, prefabricated Void of the Origin of Fire elves.

Compared to nothing on Earth and everything in Heaven, you and I are huge cogs in the mix

Killers and eaters of the dead things, plants and animals, sometimes ourselves in hard times

White, yellow, brown & red men used to run the show with religion’s blind faith, nomo nomo

Now and from here on out to the end of the species and our solar system, what will be will be.

As if there’s a reason to be alive, to survive every day knowing that everyone will, we’ll all die

Some in our sleep, some in pain until loss of consciousness and some just after a sand pound

Like the atoms collide, people and every other animal on Earth collide, tryin’ to stick around

Awaken to darkness or blazing light, a matter of Earth’s wobbling revolution, fly maggots fly.

You, know nothing yet claim to have knowledge you cannot divulge, just throw it in the truck

On philosophy of living and dying on the surface of a spinning, wobbling mass of dead rock

Why the accident of life happened in the first place and when the trip ends, hey y’all let’s talk

Fundamental origin leads to the inevitable chain reaction of the invincible, imaginary phuq.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday, September 3rd, 2020 A.D. @ 12:12 PM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to the Allman Brothers Band link @ https://youtu.be/r82i-RPzIwc}

 

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

@JackieGreene #PapaDontTakeNoMess #MamaKnowsBetter

STUCK TO A PUNK’S STICKY POT

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, September 2, 2020

----------------   #PapaDontTakeNoMessYall ----------------

Dusted off, imploded in a microbe Singularity, suckered into incarnated sex pistol flagellates

From deep depths of being a barefoot senorita with two Margaritas to send me to places gone

I need some music and a couple more shots and I’ll be gone, right here and now, altered fates

Free to be me anytime I want cuz, I’m the One who created my commingled warrior top-gun.

A gracious bow to my ancestors who preceded me before I find myself all gone, back to dust

There’s no sun and no rain and definitely no pain where we’re all goin’ to the Great Beyond

Last chances to be the good, the bad and the ugly to take advantage of anything but the death

Miami to Peking, nothing stops a virus or a bacterium from moving into the seizing of breath.

You may have forgotten about your own mortality because you’re so busy stayin’ alive, alone

Family and friends cannot stand in for you when it’s time to take a powder from power, stone

In Pacific or Atlantic or Indian oceans or any of the bottomless Dead Seas of a dry rotted rock

Without hydrogen and oxygen’s accidentally recombined a gravitational collapse on a block.

Gods got nothing to say before the linguistics were materialized from the ether, the form’s O

Sooner than later, the floating and sinking will be done, like it never existed at all, caput bro!

All of us, all of yours and mine, all gone, Time and Space of the eclectic divinity, invisible roe

Big Bang is coming in an eon or two, maybe three, we’ll be on our way, Singularity be in me!

Pertaining to the unknown pressure you see in the middle of a green rive-run to my equators

Nothing else you’ll think of doing except, eating, sleeping, staying out of trouble, old tweeters

In a thorough search for the meaning of life according to my father and brothers, holy secrets

Shoes and gloves off, naked as the birth day’s light, 208 bones swig a Margarita, Tequila fits.

Smoked, drank, snorted and listened to the rock of ages, the century’s divine sounds of Man

Boys and girls couldn’t take much more than the orphanage could dish out, we adopted pain

Now on the far end of the living life spectrum from to be or not to be to what could have been

Missed the opportunity that was knocking on the wood, I thought someone would answer it.

Sorry about nothing, it’s not my fault or my responsibility and you know it’s the Truth, news

Hair of the dog comes once or twice every week ‘til my liver wouldn’t give me another stagger

Kidneys did their best but the dialysis killed the living, injected the venom of death’s dagger

Leaked living water, locked, loaded, red, whitey gone deep dive into a pretty senorita’s blues.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mercredi, September 2nd, 2020 Anno Domini @ 11:11 AM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to Allman Brothers Band #HITS https://youtu.be/r82i-RPzIwc }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#BootsNeedKnockin' #DownWithTheSound #UpWithTheFinger #TalkinSmackBlack

antifaBLM MOVE, FOMENT IDIOTS!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday ,  September 1, 2020

----------------------  #ThisIsAStickUp  ---------------------

We used to call the black and white film Silent Movies, then Talkies, Miles Davis’ stone cool

Intention of Power, your father in heaven, who found this power of the Herd-law & order rule

Not even one of the herd is allowed to get out of line, there’s no cowboys in a moral dilemma

Pertaining to the nature of the dream, the #Woke man and woman used to be infrared fella!

I can be a simple mind for a moment while I relate to ones who’ll never be a Hollywood stone

As you’ve been so far out of the mainstream thoughts of mankind for decades, it is well done

Grown from spores and eggs into the fodder for the spinning of the wheel of fortune, no loser

Never losing and always with everything I’ve begun with, a code, an idea is a singular winner.

Grapevine from origin to the final point of the whole shebang, the death of the person you are

What happens to all of the things you’ve done for the good of your soul? What happened to I

My ego has nothing to do with it, that’s an illusion that I’m different from the world’s Matter

Form of shapes lost, mostly a uniform 208 bones to frame It, six feet long void, a Haymaker.

Slapping us silly with information battles of losers who love to follow but it is never all over

And over ad infinitum, reincarnated from the gnats and gadflies we come loaded for the bear

You know about the lock and load routine but you must also bleed the philosophy of holy Ra

Both a general and a particular thing itself, the form takes on the matter and vice versa, ouila!

Pharaohs, Kings & Queens who have mercy on their subjects, they’re mortals, faith blinded

Requiring a miracle that is caused by the Will of the Power that projects the event as ended

Your ideas about what you see with your lying eyes can be your downfall to the lowest trauma

More resolutions than dilemmas of chaos’ #RaceWar’s Power to direct apes to fake Nirvana.

by

r j j stephan, i wake-the-dead #BeWokeOnes

c. Tuesday, September 1st, 2000 A.D. @ 11:11 AM PST

{ SlamJam dunk, perusing Popeye’s hour-Classic link @ https://youtu.be/mlg2VJj837U }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?