GODS HAM! #MamaMia #WeGood @MA @DonnaSummer

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6 ANGELS & HOT BLOWN 4 OF JULY

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Saturday, July 4, 2020

--------------------   #MA  --------------------

Time really doesn’t move the shadow on the sun dial, it’s the spin of the twist, a par 4 course

Rocks rolled after the center exploded from the gravitational pressure and centrifugal force

Teed off early and finished with a 111 for 18, my first 18 ever, my last 18 I’ll ever log & putt

I think that I gotta GTF outta here, because it’s not my thing chasing a lost ball’s deep rut.

My words and your ears that hear the string of alphabet soup breakin’ into your open wound

A head cavity filled with grey matter, to guide the local hero from event to event, lost or found

Day by day. night after night, dragged lines from first dawn to the last sundown, rain or heat

I’ll throw down with you or anyone else if necessary but it never is, nobody wants to get beat.

Peace and love from above only because it’s been decades of crystal blue persuasion’s smoke

From the camp fire to the forest fire to the wetlands and wet markets, gone bat crazy to croak

Love has nothing much to do with any of it, diamonds and gold can’t get the immortal keys

It’s just a monster’s bowling alley, we’re the pins and heaven and hell throw the trajectories.

Philosophical blues pulling the existential ego out of the genome, just for kicks, a quickening

More than ever before, your memory recollection about why you’re alive in privileged singing

I am the subject of objective reality, I diverge from a timeline from now until power intersects

Marx and a tiny proletariat dancer loosen the chains for the commune to implode for the sex.

Ruling bishops and royal court of kings and queens justify the Way by a quick manifesto jerk

A gentleman and lady will get their due, they paid their dues, suffering DNA of Thor’s mama

Just because you think you’re so pretty now and then, you gotta admit you look like ant scat

Saturday night in the house or outside the bar in the alley, either way y’all gotta go in a splat!

If you’re a big leader of a big country full of a gun powder keg ready to blow, just back off ‘em

You have no choice, you want to protect your citizens, your denizens, your parents’ offspring

This is a chess game and you know the rules when you’re in check, you gotta move that thing

Go home instantly as soon as you resign, a force to repeat future shocks, God’s ad infinitum.

Tempted to do the right thing to avoid the guilt and self deprecation, I love to hem the cuff

It’s a beautiful thing that we do when we do unto others as they’d do unto our guts, as above

So, below the hot stuff tonight or tomorrow above the matters and forms of the shock of love

Shock into the presence of what comes after the Past and before the Future shocks, hot stuff.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July the 4th, 2020 Anno Domini @ 4:00 PM PST

{ #ToTheVictorGoesTheSpoils #BeepBeep #HotStuff #BadGirls wrote while listenin’ to Ms. Donna Summer R.I.P https://youtu.be/kLjTYWcNzmg }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

@BozScaggs @STYX @BJThomas @VanMorrison

IT IS FINISHED, CONTRACT THIS!

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, July 3, 2020

---------------------  #NotEvenAPlugNickel ---------------------

Fading away with the holy strings of your feline type of crowd, all ready to scratch eyes out

Don’t comply with Desire that moves the cats and you’ll be hissed at, talkin’ ‘bout yo’ mama

By the minions who only care about the water, the food and the phuq which kills the doubt

That there’s maybe nothing outside of the Earth and we all are living in the last resort of Ga.

Now and then here and there in Time and Space’s matrix, you gotta take control, don’t be shy

It’s not a time to be a little baby or a boy when it’s time to Rock and Roll, a fight for blue sky

Since the first day and up unto the final gasp of gas on the last day, the men and women talk

Of the men and the mice of the historical record that got the light to shine on Darkness’ ilk.

Yet the only thing stopping up or down from the stairwell to Cielo or Hades is You and Me

We are all going to die a mortal death with these 208 bones, like it or not, immortality mute

Except for the only One who can make it alone, it ain’t me babe, I believe an illusory creed

Pretend that knowledge which is power is obtainable but it ain’t, know nothing, just bleed.

Native North Americans lived by the shrinking body of water, dried out ash of the Good Fight

Great Lakes used to be a monster ocean, water evaporated and left the deep H2O Lakes of Ga

Earth keeps spinning and leaking the hydrogen into deep Space, point unknown, Egyptian Ra

My thoughts and trips between the bed and dark rooms I enter without benefit of violet light.

Meander around the cultural plantation for the bulk of existence, laughing, crying and dying

Never because you desire this existence but only because you’ve awakened, sword and shield

Wondering how to get food and shelter and friends to avoid pain, suffering in a killing field

To be divine is to be human without fear of Death, to be ‘all too human,” Chicago’s crying.

Punishment for the crime against humanity is eternal banishment from the herd, dead meat

Which is what life was before it fell away from your skull’s bones to the ash of me and Levon

Science and Religion metabolize into the gravitational collapse of the invisible divinity’s feet

Leftover atoms of gas, expanding and contracting until the Singularity mutates It into Avon.

Rags in ragtime and riches for Richie Rich, all of it is a necessary condition for a wasted shat

Taking it all away, subtracting the stuff from nothing leaves nothing at all, that’s a blown fact

What you don’t know WILL hurt you and what you Do know won’t, it’ll take y’all way higher

Than monks and apes hidden in caves, armed to the teeth, waiting for God to kill for hellfire.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday, July 3rd, 2020 Anno Domini @ 6:66 AM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to #RaindropsAreFallingOnMyHead by BJ THOMAS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/sySlY1XKlhM}

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#EnoughIsEnough #Gino & #DaddyGee @SteelyDan

2 MUCH IS TOO MUCH, ‘50 TO ‘20 *

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, July 2, 2020

--------------- #VictimOfTrueRomance ----------------

Mama mia and my papa were married on this day, July 2nd in 1950-1956, duplicated on high

Four of the mix in Italian and Irish-German red blood, soon to forget ancestry of rolled to die

Thrown into a wild field of dreams of my parents, some knew them and some never, ever will

Except to assume that I personally am the dynamic combination of DNAcid, chromosome fill.

Communication between two or more receivers of audio-visual-olfactory-tactile-taste of Sin

One you weren’t present for since you personally didn’t exist in the universe, it’s your fault

All of this Earth revolving, wobbling, orbiting in all-star formation of hydrogen lit explosions

Coming from the center of Nothing but a signal of compression of matter, gravity collapses.

Consciousness and a holy soul let loose by Powers on the Thing Itself, land’s sea of quicksand

It’s the Truth, that’s the Justice of the whole shebang, mama used to say too much’s too much

Should have been obvious to start right at the precipice of Enough because enough Is enough

Groomed after Conceptions for a clear deception’s formulation, a dreamboat in a dreamland.

A boy in the light and in the dark, fear and loathing what comes creeping in and out of life

A mind of memorabilia from day One to the presence of the hunger and lack of satisfaction

Under the sun or the moon, in the brightness or in the shadows of night, star still shines in

Whiskey and moonshine keepin’ me up and plants of Mary keepin’ me down, copacetic pin.

Alright you now have the codes of conduct, the good and evil before and beyond the graves

Same old story and same old song, different word recombination of the Acid, cowboy haze

It matters yet it doesn’t really matter at all, Jack Daniels is fine, Hamm’s all refreshing who?

Once a hammer goes down, only smoke’s left but I won’t be invisible, rhythm fades to blue.

Born to crawl and never to run beyond the leaders of the pack, watch them lead over the cliff

Walking is fine, way behind preferably to stay away from the stench, dying well fed herd stiffs

All forms of the same thing, 208 bones, 840 muscles all with a bad attitude from slave ships

Who we were way back when we ran around sidewalks, alleys and streets dead ends’ whips.

Your heritage don’t matter to the Dead and Gone, what matters is that you see me eye to eye

With your country that you depend on for your God’s dam of food and drink, mom’s apple pie

Putting on your thoughts which are caused by WORDS you read in a manifesto, division key

Tied down with me at the whippin’ post until sundown, then escape is mine, Ghost is in me.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Jeudi, July 2, 2020 A.D. @11:11 AM PST

*Ma & pops (RIP) married on THIS DAY long ago. Happy 70th !

I was their first child born 13 months later In Wedlock...pops may have been shootin’ blanks!

FINIS YAHOO! VERIZON!

W.W.A.R.D.?