#IAmWhereYouAreNot #Satch @JoeSatriani #IdolOfAxe

AXE TO GRIND, DON’T FRET KID *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, March 23, 2019

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In the middle of the road, shred so you can see both ways, overplayed uptown gigs

Formats of the function are in reverse order, in a dream yet not asleep, goat kids

Comin’ to know the end of the beginning before it starts, kick-start cab-over rigs

Bring it up the mainline vine to the heart, what’s the matter, chilled souls of Ids.

Pluckin’ the E, F, G, A, B, C & D just for the sake of a sack of silver gold doubloons

Easy to trade for the room and board of the things that wave tail in your fake wake

Makin’ the movement until momentum fails and then...and then eat pitted prunes

It will be the rhapsody in purple, a name of a woman, no sister-mother, eat the cake.

Protons in constant sight of you, electrons lost in space to the nucleic acid flow

Rays of plasma, wavelengths and frequencies received from a sun’s death blow

Much to say about a reason for being evil alive, no reason for being good not bad

Books of theoretical jargon to fill the Devil within me, my sapiens’ soul is so sad.

I had no name when egg met the code of gamete games, if I’m wrong, don’t have a shytfit

It may be that I had been introduced to my egg’s DNA alleles and I just forgot all about it

Truth is, any guess is as good as Adam’s and Eve’s or any worm itself, a crossroads thing

In the telescopic view, nothing magnified a million percent becomes the set of Nothing.

by

r j j stephan, i { *Header’s the mighty axe shredder, hands & arms of Joe Satriani #Satch }

c. March 23, 2019 A.D. @ 7:11 PM PST

{ drafted out of nowhere while listenin’ to some Rickie Lee Jones jammin’ on HITS like #Youngblood on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/j359eOgZBZM }

FINIS

@ricoSacto #ricoSacto @RickieLeeJones & me

SECRET, HOLY LOVE’S FIREBALLS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Saturday, March 23, 2019

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Caput! That is all! Pay your tides after the ides of March, it’s not April now fools

Talkin’ to myself my friends, I cast no aspersions to the four winds’ ice of coolvilles

Alarmed by the Time and Space in progress, in consciousness, aware, uppity, alpha types

Graham crackers and the rest of the fused hydrogen atoms, mutated into uncracked pipes.

Blown and smoked throughout the vacuum between galactic incinerators, I’m the Black

An emptiness only known to One, never to the Many we’ve come to be, what One’s become

Is but a vibrant vibration between soft and hardware, malfunction in the junction, Jack

Not a thing left to examine or analyze down to the substratum, to the bone’s metronome.

Tick, tock, to and fro, back and forth, in a straight line from one end to the other, pointless

Inventions of rolling wheels and flying spears brought Ages of Stone, the Bronze and Space

Cream risen to the surface of the life’s blood of the dream, the supermilk of the Earth’s teats

Anywhere at all on 7 continents, the misery and hunger walk, fly and float holy miscreants.

For just a moment, suspend your blind faith in an ‘unknown’ creator of this mystery’s Life

You don’t know and I don’t know, without a doubt, for certain, that a God created a Man

That is the epic saga though or so I’m told, sixteen years of classic scholastics, cheatin’ wife

Badaboom, badabing, the jigs are up as soon as the last hammer comes down on coffin nails.

You’ve waited forever for me to drop the dime on this philosophy mojo I’m carryin’ about

It will leak out right off of the bat, before you know it, you’ve known all along, so shout it

Cool as the far side of the Dark Side of the moon, sky satellite that swears to God’s Void

Stuck on Earth, in a place in space where I can adapt to the culture of civilized mankind.

It is the same, if it hurts and it kills you or if it doesn’t hurt ant id kills you, a stooge’s Ra Sin

Cool or not, it’s the target of the One, to run out of the energy of a singularity fusion’s fission

Utter satisfaction, in Love’s deep sleep, dreaming that you’re here or now, in hot #Coolsville

Frozen attention arrested, high price, hard to swallow wet dreams, I put it on Freedom’s bill.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. March 23, 2019 A.D. @ 3:33 PM PST

{ bled veins, bled out while listenin’ to Rickie Lee Jones #WeaselAndTheWhiteBoysCool & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/yGFEFncDYQc }

 

FINIS

#ImaginaryLovers #HereAndNow #FrontAndCenter #ANYTIME #NeverDisagree #SatisfactionGauranteed

YOU GOT THAT RIGHT, PAL!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, March 22, 2019

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Sixth encounter of the Third Kind comes and goes before anybody knows it, earthbound feet

Forgot where you came from before your conception of DNA’s reception connection, so sweet

It moves on the ground and it’s hungry to eat you, we are the food of the paranormal phenom

Punks and gods morph into the living logs on the beach’s sand, solar cinders of mortal scum.

I need a drink to wet the dryness of the full moon’s reflection of the sun, imagery I adore, score

I always win the games I play, it’s the whole point of playing, nobody wants to be a loser door

An open door for the winner to open and take all of whatever is in the pot, money, food, girls

To be or not to be, boys and girls forever, until holy ground meets Peter Pan’s spinnin’ whirls.

Here and now is the presence I’m in, the one you are entering now with eyes widely skewed

Ears and mind in a state of readiness to receive the complimentary gifts of divinity’s brood

Freedom to choose the Good, the Bad and the Ugly for reasons unknown to immortally Man

A soul within invisible bones, invisible nuclear acid, come from the cosmic soup’s tomato can.

On the loudest decibels conceived by mankind, in an empty chamber devoid of air and light

A heartbeat begins out of nowhere, just conceived from a thought of ecstatic friction insight

Epic thrust of a scream into the universe and ouila, a spirit-soul out of nowhere, too human

Chains on the ankles released if and only if the recollection of why God is God, Man is Man.

But you won’t know like I will know the meaning of the will to power, animated Book Runes

Rocks roll into a ball of liquid hydrogen and blow out in 360 degrees of output of the iTunes

Come see if I’m right or wrong, eyes wide open too for a minute, Chitown and Big Apple kicks

L.A. clear as a bell, it’ll toll for you and I, as sure as Earth wobbles, as sure as a shot of 30:06.

In a dark corridor without light, you move any direction into an imperative’s waste category

Groomed with vigor in the religion of peace and war, fear of divine retribution for devil’s evil

Spelled forward and backward it’s either LIVE OR EVIL but it will be known, good, bad, ugly

All things are nothing but appearance, cells of acid, Man is God’s cotton-pickin’ boll weevil!

by

Rico Richard Joseph Stephan

c. March 22, 2019 A.D. @ 1:11 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to the #SoundOfSilence @SimonAndGarfunkle on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/NAEppFUWLfc & SOME @AtlantaRhythmSection #ChampagneJam link below! }

FINIS