"FOOLS ON A TRAIN TO MY PLACE"

"FOOLS ON A TRAIN TO MY PLACE"

by Richard Joseph Stephan

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I woke up one day over sixty years ago and to my surprise, everyone was asleep, still are

Wool or just ignorant blind faith has become the demon-erratic way of life, liberty’s gone

Took a pill when the pain was too much to bear, sat back in my easy chair and zoned out

A twilight place in the the plasma of my Sony, linked to my Bluetooth and yours no doubt.

It’s not that complicated if you begin from a First Cause of stars n’ blue skies, my dad Sonny

Yes, the rain in the rivers from the snow on the mountain tops, on fifths or ides of September

Day my daddy died and others on planet dirt, could have been in January, May or December

Nevertheless, logic and reason flow, streaming lines of data, a new form of life, a cyberbully.

Smoking, drinking, working, paying debts, buying things and services to live like a faux king

With faux queens expecting the royal treatment or you’ll be totin’ that bale, keep on truckin’

Lay down with dogs and you’ll get the fleas, bad boys need good boys to influence the blues

Boom boom or blam blam, it’s like a nightmare or dream, depending on good or evil of me.

There’s nothing personal about this so don’t take it in a foul way, don’t #eff up scat that I say

I’m not loaded for bear and I’ve got no axe to grind, this is a mere slight of hand to go ondelay

From the get/go you knew it was all about OUR food, drink and being all too goda#n human

My own PLAYlist from Hades is no diversion from the gods’ silent chants of vermin, A men.

Places in Space to go from pole to pole and all around the equator of continental nonsense

In this time, Time has been the measure of the revolution and the recession of plasma soul

Substance of the First Cause, the Unmoved Mover is right here and right now and you got it

Deep down inside of you and I and every other thing that lives on this Dirt, something’s Up.

by

r j j stephan, I { header’s Rene Descartes & Buddha & their #TwoCents #ForWhatItsWorth }

c. July 14, 2018 Saturday @ 9:11 AM E.S.T.

{ written while listenin’ to my dominance in this hemisphere within my empty Oneness & listenin’ to WAR THE BAND hits on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/O8K8NfMLyf0 }

*Saw WAR THE BAND ‘LIVE’ last PM @ the California State Fair outside in the beautiful California July night! I must have done something really, really good in a ‘past’ life to deserve it! peace/out Richard Joseph Stephan

 W.W.A.R.D.?

"KICKS OVER SIZE #7, EMPTY TOMB!

KICKS OVER SIZE #7, EMPTY TOMB!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan  Friday, July 13, 2018

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Civilization of humanity, stuck the men, the boys, the girls who grow into the tax-you gang

Who defend Freedom, kickin’ in the barn, little feet over size #7, in a deep pocket blowhole

Took all the jobs and shoved them, the herd heard with their ears, they hear the gong bong

Filling the creator’s Void, empty pocket is impossible, it’s full of emptiness and a rubber soul.

Pumped up muscles, young and strong, energy and drive to be the best, to become the One

There’s where the Many reside, All for One and One for All, two, three or four musketeers

Grabbing the babies who are born to the unfocused, uncivilized parents or ‘parent’ is a rash

For the boss of their life, the people who reward your labor with a paper check of the cache.

Is it really an accident that the mantra isn’t generating peace and love, sharing the free-fall

I don’t think that can be proven or disproven but it’s an important point for the sake of all

You have the high hopes of the dreamers who live under a tyrant’s rule, island or province

All humanity want to be taken care of by the Big Daddy in the sky or a POTUS’ footprints.

Today may be rainy, dark or light and sunny but tonight like magic, it’ll now prestidigitate

Rolling and rocking not even felt by any of the residents upon or below the burned as#es

Leftovers from the #Fire that was the origin of the petroleum we use to combust our fate

In a deep, wet dream or just praying that there’s a Creator who cares, holes, women, ashes.

How did the ignorant, young idiot pay attention to the language long enough to feed the face

The meaning of life, maybe Monty Python and Benny Hill Funny Videos shed the ultraviolet

Disguised as the infrared wavelength, unseen yet present at all times, everywhere void, Space

Minds born to xy-zygotes, DNA’s size #0 to#7, All of It’s alone, a Divinity’s empty-mind-set.

by

r j j stephan, i { If you don’t know what the HEADER is a representation of, just forgetaboutit! You already did right? Yep, yep. Google Iwo Jima! }

DAWN IN IWO JIMA

c. July 13, #FridayTheThirteenth, 2018 AD @ 5:11 AM PST

{ consolidated the random stimuli into the inferior scat preceding this bovine excrement and all the while being entertained by Curtis Mayfield #SweetExorcist “To Be Invisible” & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/81foxlORujM }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#PowerAndNewWorldOrders

POWER AND NEW WORLD ORDERS

by Richard Joseph Stephan

 "...can't you feel the motion of the ocean?  They're wavin'..."

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Civilized and generated from the stars’ neutrons, protons and electrons, it’s gas on fire

Kept into the form of a human on the outside and billions of burning stars within It

Perfect old world and perfect new world both out of order in the chaos of mindfulness

Here and now where nothing is, that’s where I’ll be, dwelling on the hot funeral pyre.

On the natural order of the Earth’s rotation and wobble around a gas ball, spittin’ fire

Powerful accidental birth of DNA in the burned out cauldron of astral slush of beer

Perfect and permanent monolith in front of my house, keepin’ out the war dogs’ ire

Hungry to bite and kill something, dogs ferocious ready to assist woman with her, sir.

Appearance of the illusion to be the reality of your presence in this matrix of the tower

Outside the bubble with my gnostic perfection and hard liquor catapult the soul to Ra

Where the gifted and the depleted merge into One, being burned at the stake’s fire spa

Spreadin’ legs or moving the friction into the nervous system’s sex, knowledge’s power.

Eyes close once more, one last time and they won’t open up again, don’t look now, holy Ga

Pierced with swords and stakes, all of the lives I’ve lived are more than I’ve taken to my ma

Fallen off of the double-cross and crawled away because both ankles were broken up clean

On the way to the mountains, I got bushwhacked and took the stage, the Law’s order seen.

Flaws of Fate are merely a skewed point of view, an error of neglect, cathouse morticians

Some fortunate and others not so much, the fate of this man is the end of life, yours fool!

Wishing on a falling star or imploding core to expel the myth of Nothing, mathematicians

Version of an Imperative Category in a momentous realization, I’m the fire who made you.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 12, 2018 Thursday @ 3:33 PM PST

{ WHIPPED OUT while listenin’ to 992 arguments of The O'Jays #MightyThree #PutYourHandsTogether & HITS listenin’ to @ShipAhoy on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/AjOgxv177cs }

 #CrackTheWhip 


W.W.A.R.D.?