#FatherOfMine #FatherOfYours #AMotherphqrr

MOTHER’S FATHER OF US ALL

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Monday, August 6, 2018

No fear inside the head, nothing at all other than a wisp of sewer wind, flowin’ in me for fun

Popped up and dropped down into the deepest gully grooved into the crevasse, it’s a scheme

Not that you’d ever know if I didn’t mention it, your mama and papa didn’t say a thing, son

You thought you were a special thing, a thing itself, apart from your form of skin and bone.

Gold in the veins of the dead star’s essence, still moving the super cosmic filth ball around

In relative circles, nearly escaping the gravitational pull but then always returning to the hole

Where the star sun generates its essence and effulgence for the sustenance of your empty soul

Playin’ the games and the music until the end is near, then losing the laughter, giggle sound.

A hit or a miss every year, every summer, every fall, winter and spring but always feels good

Alternatives are unacceptable, for instance, disease, death, pain, suffering, nagging, no food

Therefore, logical and rational as I am, I choose to hunt and store food for the duration of me

When I die, no surprise, my jaw’ll gape open like everyone else, eyes wide open but can’t see.

Supreme love for the process of the evolution of Space and Time and the embedded heroes

Ones that nobody will ever forget because the legend is monumental compared to the blows

Everybody takes them, uppercuts, right crosses, jabs, punches in the ribs, kidneys and groin

On the way down for the count, knocked out but happy in the disease, God’s flippin’ a coin.

Programmed to stop and hold up the process at the fork in the road, nobody can ever go back

From Motown to a City of Angels, round back through Dallas, Baton Rouge, NYC and Chi-T

No 800 numbers to dial for help, no 411 on speed dial, just final blinks, a stain out of whack

Like you’ve done since a teenager, super-kid bloomed out of a puddle of mud by the wet sea.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 6, 2018 Monday @ 11:11 AM PST

{ written as I drifted into a PLETHORA OF CRISPY SMOKE in the California skies & listenin’ to Uncle Kracker on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/06WM8oLH87M & @Everclear #FatherOfMine #MyDaddyGaveMeAName #ThenHeWalkedAway on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/kkcbxjWG9Mc }

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

ALPHA-HOOD KNIVES & SUBOORDINATE SWORDS

ALPHA-HOOD KNIVES & SUBORDINATE SWORDS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, August 5, 2018

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Who in the heaven and hell do you think you are, monkey-man? You are hot dust

Nothing more than the remnants of a burned-out, holy host of the powerless rust

No imagination beyond the storage of images within the convoluted immateriality

Our mothers do this to us, all of the mothers on Earth do this to their love deity.

I’m not the one who’s been doubting everything to do with propositional, formal logic

I have recovered my faith in something immaterial, godlike in it’s informal rhetoric

A punk runs this whole show, there’s no doubt about anything at all, the soul soars

Beyond the boundaries of the planets’ revolutionary malfunction, goddess’ of #Oars.

Keep in mind or keep in the body, it’s all one and the same, we gotta keep ‘em separated

For the sake of the great, great grandfathers and grandmothers who surprisingly mated

With the studs who won the battles and wars of adolescence and kept it on the QT, salutes

A savior was nothing but a man who honored the swords and knives turned into the flutes.

Your opinion has no bearing on whether or not I’m right or wrong regarding my high horse

I do ride deep in the saddle with my booted spurs in the stirrups, a galloping, trotting force

If I succeed at persuading nobody but my friends and countrymen of which I have a million

I shall have become the first and only person in my family of immigrants to cancel the Sin.

Original One and an #OriginalSin of #Pride and #Disobedience to your daddy, your maker

Creator of heaven Earth gets perturbed and mixes up the Mother’s chilly air and dirty water

Yesterday’s troubles, tomorrow’s recollections of The Way, a path with a disturbing dilemma

Sun shines, then one foot in front of the other until The Boss’ epic finale, embed it, phuqnA!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 5, 2018 Sunday, August 5, Two-Thousand-Eighteen

{ WRITTEN WHILE LISTENIN’ to Papa Roach on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Hm7vnOC4hoY & #ASL video to pop songs of the last SEVERAL years on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/_Sc4mxQE8Y8 & #BigSmo #MyNeighbors link @ https://youtu.be/DbfOXrQ0N84 }

#WWARD ?

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

...& with the genie stuck inside the whiskey bottle, the demon asked, "W.W.A.R.D.?"

Last Resort (explicit) - Papa Roach

W.W.A.R.D.?

IT IS WHAT IT IS & IT AIN'T WHAT IT AIN'T - #EyeAintTrippin

WHO WOULD HAVE KNOWN

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, August 3, 2018

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It’s my Chicago cap that rules the day in my world, didn’t have to catch a pitch or hit hard ball

Got it for a gift from my brother or my sister, sent it overnight service up the FedEx air ramps

I smoked my last cigarette in the dugout with #14 when I was sixteen, in the Colt’s league foal

Magical all stars moved in and out of a dream at an All Star game, where we beat the chumps.

Pardoned by the President and the Pope for the sins of hitting ten homeruns in one ballgame

Small bears moved around the diamond, steppin’ on bags around the horn, on the way home

The score tied or lopsided to one side or the other, maybe even a blowout without any blame

A pitching gem of a no hitting shutout game, perfect except for a batter hit in the bald dome.

Bottom of the seventh for a stretch when the leading run is on first, cleanup hitter, bags load

Fast ball down the pipe embeds it’s cork n’ skin stitchin’ into the Wilson’ wood, slam, explode

A homer or an ancient, elder male or female, soul food of the creator of two gonads’ monads

Peanuts, seeds, nuts to go in or along with the fruit, all grown for the Paradise sinner fads.

Amounting to little or nothing at all when it finally comes down to it, be a king’s fresh squirts

Into a queen who doesn’t mind a labor of love for jokers and thieves who love to be perverts

Parameters of the diameters and radii become the thing in the space, it’s dimensional blow

A Chicago Bear hungry for another Lombardi Trophy but a Cub can’t wait for #CommishTro.

Winning is everything and it’s the only thing worth while, losers lose the game, the race’s sin

Pummeled by the competition, the loser crawls back to the ranks of the homeless human race

Where the singles and hordes live to die without ever caring why, a non sequitur apostrophe

Superstitious glyphs on a dirt wall signals no free choice, all things are just to be or not to be.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 3, 2018 Friday @ 11:11 PM PST

{ written while listenin’ to a cornucopia of rockin’ stream like Marvin Gaye & HITS link @ https://youtu.be/H-kA3UtBj4M }

W.W.A.R.D. ?

#LoafingOverHer #JoinTheUnionLeague #GotChillsAllOverMyBodyAgain

A MANBOY FROM A BUOYMAN’S YOYO

 

I had green hair when I used to swing that piece of round wood or plastic around the world

I walked the dog and rocked the baby in the cradle, even had a butterfly backward stack yoyo

Up and down and all around the world from the Filipino Yoyo inventor Pedro Flores’ mold

Two pieces of wood and a string, using gravity and resistance to throw and return the gold.

Just about twenty-five miles from home now and I tripped three or four times since noon

I haven’t felt this good since I was about eight years old and that was sixty years ago, goon

There’s no reason to feel good nor bad about it, it is what it is and it can’t be any more Jack

Not a thing more than a small bit of knowledge that’ll yield the power you need to kick back.

How come you have to wake up every day and go to school or work or even be a broke bum

There must be more than the reason I’ve been told, alone in darkness, we hang in and run

From the nightmares and dreams that happen when everyone’s asleep as a fortunate son

Marked the beginning, the original start of the go-green light, holdup, Origin’s Zen scum.

Putting the payments into arears mode and noticing that Jupiter no longer aligns with Ga

Aquarius is gone and a sympathetic dreamer turns to the holy of holies, locked in a box

Where the sun never shines in to allow the sight to see the vision of the unnamed fairy

Neither a godmother nor an honorable sprite, can you say ‘yo-yo’ bandoleer animation.

What goes up must come down just because it does, we call it attraction to Eros’ love

To the core of this spinning elder piece of the solar system, where molten iron simmers

Underneath China and England, a fire of the origin remains while the night eats riders

About in and out, over and under, all around up and down, leave my horse, stars above.

Kiss my ain’t that something, you know better than that, I don’t mean literally, you crazy nut

Cracked as you are and totally bereft of the modicum of intelligence you’ve been a joke’s but

Betting that you’re getting the best of my love in the world, two bits I gave it all, spit my spit

Dreaming this baby down here, who in #Ga I am, a man-boy, a boy-man, Richie Rich’s #Hit.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. August 2, 2018 AD @ 7:77 PM PST

   

{ Header's a masterpiece called #TheKiss a sculpture by @Rodin as well as #TheThinker below the Abbot/Costello video, so there, BOOM, THERE IT IS! }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

{ written after a grueling SUV purchase day, drinkin’ shots with my old lady & listenin’ to Steely Dan #Aja & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/fG2seugAgnU & jammin’ to my personal hit #RicoRockHardFavorites program on #iheart link @ https://www.iheart.com/favorites/ricorockhard-724148/ }

#DoYourThingYall @ricoSacto #ricoSacto #DoDangDooDooDeeDaaDo

#SnowOnTheRoof #DoYourThingYall

by

Richard Joseph Stephan

Wednesday, August 1, 2018

 

When the time comes for silence and no reason to express yourself any longer, moot it

Nobody including your only friend can listen to the Truth, over again, ad infinitum fit

No comfort from above or below this apparent globule of rock and filth, waste desserts

Tightened up in the middle of the core, ready to explode into #SuperNova, God flirts.

With the human girls and women who are discontented with the seed of Adam n’ Cain

Mating with the two first guys, one being a prototype and the other the yoke of an egg

That is all you need to know about why this world, this reality, your and my perception

Is a fog that cannot be seen through to any other side, in the dark or the light, reverend.

High priest-philosophers #Apedom kingdom best paws forward, stuck-up in spiders webs

Nobody is going to get out of here and now alive, with or without a soul, animate holy Zeus

For no other reason than to hunt, kill, eat, mate, hunt, kill, eat, devil-dog sleeps until it dies

Watch television? Listen to #TalkRadio? Play games on the internet’s #WorldWideWeb?

Finally near the finale and the structure erected on an invisible foundation of holographics

Forms and shapes of the things themselves which we refer to with language, to be a human

Without the awareness of the way to communicate the culture, we are as the rats’ve become

Our fortune from Hollywood, California to New York, New York is not luck, Cosmos is sick.

Pain and suffering from the first hurting, cut nerves, damages nerves, demented old mind

Thinking with logic and reason for the sake of the World, to be the voice of a species’ kind

Survival of the most fit with the most variation in skills and ability to assimilate a ho, jackass

It is after all’s said and done, my human genome moving upon Earth, in #TwilightZone pass.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. 8-1-2018 Mercredi @ 13:40 hours

{ DRAFTED in 26 minutes TODAY & jammin’ on the #OldenDaze of my youth #ExpressYourself #SillyLittleGirl 📷 Charles Wright & the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band - Topic Published on Jan 23, 2017 #YAllDoIt https://youtu.be/p_j4J1WKzXI & https://youtu.be/cZ_p66zi7hU }

#BecomeDebtFreeNow
#WWARD ?

#BoyzRoundHereDontGAF @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

SHOVIN’ IT DOWN YOUR #PVC PIPE

 

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Tuesday, July 31, 2018

 

Push it down to the bottom of the pit where the light never shines, a Form’s Matter core

Nothing left inside the middle of the thing’s being, just like you, Earth’s a place to bore

From the birth to the death of the things themselves to the matrix of stone bullet holes

A God before everything, the Zeus, the Ra, the Jehovah, the Ala, Zoroastrian’s controls.

Behavior of the men and women who survive the birth and childhood of mankind, is the gods

How we act, God-like, as a creator of you and I and everything else would do, not devil-dogs

Mean and nasty, evil and bad beings that want to kill and eat you, like the prey on barbecue

Fish from the rivers, from the sea and the animated forms of amoeba to woman, asleep, fool.

It seems as if you’re not in a dream, you are, it seems like this cartoon’s a surreal spirit’s rally

Remember the feeling of being conceived, born or even the first time going to sleep at night

{...in a thin, bed blanket or your empty, vacuumed tent in a parking garage or gangway alley }

Cooling the core that’s as white hot as the almighty Hydrogen burst above, in time for a Nova

Your life, relatives, friends, the things you hold dear are our vortex’s holy G&A Spray System.

It’s on fire with reasons why you shouldn’t be afraid to watch life die, to kill for Christ’s sake

Alternatives to a ritual of awakening from sleep to returning to a somnambulistic mind fake

Those options do not exist, you either live on Earth or you die on Earth, no heaven/hell pool

No high water above your head while you’re stuck in the river’s rapids, drinkin’ Alps’ drool.

The boys around here think they know it all, then an emergency comes out of nowhere’s sect

Naturally, they hide until they think their personal safety’s secure, how they serve and protect

I might be higher than the snow on the Zermatt Matterhorn yet I see the clear light’s shadows

Before the Word, before the animation of an #UnmovedMover’s seeds, my Good’s Evil blows.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 31, 2018 Tuesday @ 9:11 AM PST

*Header photo attributed to the author/artist/photographer c. Paa Joe with a sandal coffin in collaboration with Regula Tschumi for the Kunstmuseum Berne 2006 link @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paa_Joe#/media/File:Paa_Joe_mit_Sandalettensarg_2006.jpeg }

{ DRAFTED while listenin’ to WAR THE BAND #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Cr_sPj-XbUs }

*Header Video is #WhosOnFirst @Abbot&Costello - *Header photo attributed to the author/artist/photographer c. Paa Joe with a sandal coffin in collaboration with Regula Tschumi for the Kunstmuseum Berne 2006 link @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paa_Joe#/media/File:Paa_Joe_mit_Sandalettensarg_2006.jpeg }

{ DRAFTED while listenin’ to WAR THE BAND #HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Cr_sPj-XbUs }

W.W.A.R.D.?

@Warmheartedness #StandUpForYourRights #DontGiveUpTheFight

DOGTAGS & KICKED-LOCKED JAWS

by Richard Joseph Stephan· Monday, July 30, 2018

 sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Kicked me in the face while I was alive, conscious and perceiving the boot in my mouth

Horror of the wondering why I couldn’t move and defend my life was metabolized forth

UFO in your mind’s eye is not Anonymous pretending to be a DzWikileaks bury the lead

I am not what I was the day before my father impregnated my mother, mind-eye’s freed.

Psychological and physiological in the metaphysical complication, chaos is Us AND Them

“X” indictment as a co-conspirator with aliens from an Anonymous, nano-planetary system

Perfection in the empty sewer that the men made to empty the uber-wasted mastication flow

In the meat and potatoes of the carnivore and the nut salads of the herbivore, fed naked ape.

From a lump of DNA in a microscopic cell, comes a con-man entertainer-joker, a daft diddler

A builder, a mason who manufactures wealth out of debt, transforms the dead to the good life

All of us on this planet, third form in space from the glowing ball of flame way-gone, afar, sir

I did it, questioned everything and took no prisoners, nobody gets a pass, not even your wife.

Stinking from the dead and gone, not their skin and bones but their ideas, their handwriting

Suddenly, you’re entire block of housing and urban development is infested by a rat packing

Not the chumming crooners of yesterday’s Las Vegas, Nevada, friends of the Roosevelt dime

Movement of the Unmoved Mover means, the Earth spins, revolves and calculates the Time.

Copy and paste this link and you will be stung by the #PowersThatBe not God but the Man

You know who I’m referring to by the designated moniker “the Man” and if you don’t, tough

Life is like that so since you can’t always get what you want, this Truth, you at least will laugh

Like there’s no tomorrow, ‘cause soon, there won’t be for you, for me, it’s a dream Peter Pan!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 30, 2018 Monday @ 3:33 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Jimmy Church on Coast to Coast AM #Wikileaks #BarrettBrown link @ https://www.coasttocoastam.com/ } #C2C #F2B  #CoastToCoastAM #Wikileaks @BarrettBrown

LOOK OUT BELOW..... 

@BigSur #BigSur

W.W.A.R.D.?

#BoysRoundHereDoNotGAF

CREEPY, STEALIN’ ECLECTIC MOJO

by Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, July 29, 2018

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Alrighty then, let’s ride this bike until I hit the horizon at the Tequila sunset without sunrise

Everyday I clean every inch of the heavy metal and oil up the tread gittin’ ready for blacktop

I may not be a flying object unidentified, have mercy, but I am what I am, purple Kush highs

With or without you, I’m going to the end of the line and when I get there, slobs will slop.

Spirits without the two hundred eight bones, head to toe, mythological pretensions of gods

In and out of their invisible minds, evidence of reality just a hope and a dream of psychics

But when Jesus left Chicago for Mississippi or New Orleans, drove the mother of all hot rods

Comatose from Springfield to Wakahatchee, ridin’ high, ridin’ dirty blacktops n’ turnpikes.

Pouring the water and keeping it inside the envelope of spirit’s H2, O2, N2 and burned ash

From the sun the Earth used to be, the son of the Sun, the son of God, the Way to the Matrix

Nowhere that you’ve ever been or even have ever been informed exists in this world’s cache

That is where the diamond in the rough resides, out of sight, out of touch with the fuzzdicks.

Apparently the appearance of the things themselves are confusing to the analytical method

Chopping the words away, meaning by meaning, nuance by nuance, come to Buddha n’ God

Or, if you choose, you’ve freedom of choice after all’s said, One n’ Many are in empty prisons

Let your self’s form get stabbed/pricked by the ‘Insane Many’ drones of god’s seventh sons!

It’s all gonna be alright, as I said, the grass smoke,, the rocks will fly, even God above will die

One thing for certain is you can’t say you didn’t know the deal because I’m spillin’ beans, fly

Climbed out of an egg and a sperm just to fly high into the space between planes, Id’s Thing

Microscopic and macroscopic one and the same, it’s the same above as as below us, Nothing.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 29, 2018 @ 11:11 AM Dimanche { ‘thinkin’ ‘bout the time in #Memphis, I thought I was in heaven!” -- ZZ Top LIVEBonaroo2013 }

{ drafted as the paradise in California burns down to the ground due to a Car Fire, Smoke is everywhere in the air and on the water!} 

*Bootstompin' HIGH HOPES FOR THE BOYS 'ROUND HERE *

SPUNKY, DOWN BY THE RIVERSIDE

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Saturday, July 28, 2018

 

It was difficult to be a dead end kid, the downside is you had to feel the pain, upside’s the sun

Still shining in Darkness because it’s easy for a burning, hot star to do what it is that stars do

Inside or outside of the atoms, molecules and charm, it’s all One and the same, One for All

One, two, three as it goes on to ad infinitum, back to the Space where I used to play baseball.

I threw the ball, I caught the ball, I hit the ball, I kicked the ball, I shot the balls in holy holes

I didn’t want to but the facts are, I came here to be the best and I am, The Best, the very best

If I was any better I’d have to acquire amnesia to forget about it, y’all I’d be your rubber souls

Take you to the cleaners before you know it, workin’ it and usin’ cash for the loving, I digress.

Awake after bein’ asleep forever or a longer time than I planned, years, decades, eons of Time

But now I’m whistlin’ at all of the sights I’m seein’ walkin’ around the churches and state fair

Prayed I’d get down to rivers where silver, gold n’ diamonds hide ‘neath God’s 10 cent dime

Runnin’ from sleepin’, hungover from last night’s backwoods binge, chew tobacco in my hair.

Lower that fist down by your side and unclench your bung, release the blood and red mud

Survived the birth and death, the ways of the masters and the slaves followed to the graves

Chewed the tobacco and smoked it too, like I knew I should, makin’ smoke inside my pud

Backwoods or concrete jungle, Iowa or Alabama, your mama lived and she died, we slaves.

Wanting it to be a different way than history has displayed to the boys ‘round here, forget it

Former and latter makes me the One in the middle, using the Will to the power, God’s Zeus

Amazing grace and sin that came from either an erupted gas ball or a mental conflagration

Occult ad infinitum, holy jeans and muddy boots of red dirt roads and all, ‘too legit to quit.’

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 28, 2018 @ 11:11 AM PST

{ drafted while watchin’@TheDailySign #TheDailySign Music As Language in The ASL Club at Sac State listenin’ to some Blake Shelton #BoysRoundHere on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/_Sc4mxQE8Y8 }

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W.W.A.R.D.?

#ROCKIN' #ROLLIN' #LetsRoll

ROLLIN’ BENEATH, AIR BASE WING

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Friday, July 27, 2018

Flyin’ objects you cannot identify and your feet are still grounded in mythology of dead men

High highfalutin’ kings of the spades, hearts, diamonds and billy clubs, enforce, pretend club

Like this is normal, to live and die and not know why, to jump to an uneducated conclusion

Once there, staying deep in the bottom, near the Mariana Trench toward the core of the hub.

Perform One’s dance, reproduce DNA genomes from an dubiously dubbed creation, Big Bang

Keep your idiots and morons in sight, civilize the savages and force obedience to a law’s fang

Explore the unknown and get to the end before you fade to the Blackness, the Void’s sponge

Putting my wheels’ rubber to the asphalt is all I cared about on the maiden voyage of grunge.

Playing the things that got me to @Nirvana and the #StairwayToHeaven provide on the glide

From the slippage out of the open wound of Woman into the mockery scars of Man, God lied

Waiting for the Word to prove the existence of the unseen based on the imaginary hope of Id

Deep within the mental process of this human, you and the rest of the brood, did what I did.

I deny that anything other than my mother and father having coitus’ diamond, meddling in

Love is what I got, teachin’ this mythological inheritance is rational, a One, above and below

If you were the creator of the universe, you would not make the third stone from the sun now

Too late, Space n’ Rat Race have become #TheGoat, #LetsRoll, I am what It is, an extinction.

Once the chant has begun it cannot end without the reason for it beginning in the first place

To heal the wounds of existence, the struggle to survive on a hostile planet of viral infection

Bacteria to overwhelm everyone and everything under the sun, plant, animal and the rockin’

Sounds of the amplified string plucks and animal skin tight beatings, cashing in the grace.

Around dead man’s curve or in the wild blue yonder, it matters to no one, it means nothing

Fools move about the rooms, separated by the empty bags of bones, spirits and souls, King

Queen puts you in mate on sixty-four squares, eight by eight, dark or white checkin’ pawns

Completed superman and superwoman philosophies, one chain, one prison, seminal songs.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. July 27, 2018 @ 1:11 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to Bette Midler #BeMyBaby & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/OewqBtA3nv4 }

 W.W.A.R.D.?

The Origins of Goofy

W.W.A.R.D.?

ZZ TOP CONCERT "THE TIME IS TONIGHT!"

THIWY WABIT, YOSEMITE “S” I AM

by

Richard Joseph Stephan·Thursday, July 26, 2018

Mental and dental floss decreasing the rapidity of deterioration, life under sun and moon

In or out of the groove, consuming the energy and producing the work of swoonin’ a goon

Princes and paupers really don’t care more than being safe, in a safe place, chewin’ @Skoal

Growing up in the USA in the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, 2000’s in a TV’s Bugs Bunny hole.

Two or three things are all you need to know way on down the line when I’m dead and gone

Mysteries are merely the unknown to the unfortunate, unchosen ones who can’t stop rockin’

They’ve lost their minds in the beats and rhythms’ notes of do, re, mi on a scale of corn pone

Music to my ears, ‘cause I am the masses, your moms and pops, classical or jazz of a drone.

First caused movement may be the only Unknown to avoid detection, due to it’s emptiness

The entire matrix of Space in every dimension of Time, from an imaginary Big Bangedness

Falling down to the ground of being, falling in love with another walking, talking twin code

Sensation and perception leading to the abuse of Reason, to rationalize the core’s DNA mode.

Devoid of value for your life you cannot value anything or anyone else, neither friend nor foe

A prick of your index finger lets the blood flow from your vein into my own cut skin’s squirm

I know either little or nothing but I have to rationalize the epic, existential elegance of Form

A shape that moves about, locomotion back and forth, up and down, in and out a river flow.

The weapon of choice is the Word that will cut the walls of Jericho online or IRL, on a rant

Out of context yet in the method of madness that is our Birth and Death on Earth, I shan't

The joke is on you and on me but you still care and the difference is that I don’t wanna fight

Wasted time to try to control the Belly of the Beast’s power, it’s All up tight and out of sight.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday @ 1:11 PM PST

{ written while listenin’ to ZZ Top w/ George Thorogood & The Destroyers, Michael Ray & gettin’ ready to go to the concert LIVE this PM Calexpo California Fair on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/GtBEdtVNAWg } 

W.W.A.R.D.?

#FAKENEWS CATS FIX OVERPOPS

#FAKENEWS CATS FIX OVERPOPS

by Richard Joseph Stephan·Wednesday, July 25, 2018

That which you don’t know will neither hurt you nor cause consternation in future shocks

Biting your back or leg while you’re wide awake, being the shreds of a cat’s man-prey hocks

Better to be eaten while alive or choked out with a jaw grab even a Cro-Magnon would love

I digress into a world of some distorted perception, enculturated, astigmatic prism above.

Persuading the children of the ignorant and the privileged punks and miscreants who breed

Species of the #HighHopes and #WetDreams peculiar to the genome, who pretend to be seed

Of a creator of this universe, the personage or thing that is immortal and weird special effects

Images that flash before your blinded eyes, past your wrinkled skin-bag of calcified bone sex.

This place in Space, right here and now at this Time, presence of Being that is divinity’s DNA

Until squirmin’ evolves into a phobia of locomotion, ad infinitum, to Be LIGHT’s alpha seed

Bones getting crunched and pulled to pieces while snorting a toot of me, a killer kitty’s prey

In a jungle, concrete street or earthen trails between chlorophyll cans of plants, Jimsonweed.

Putting you in the place in space that you were meant to be in, the nature of the universe I am

You have no choice or free will, God is closer to nothing at all than you might think, say again

You are the product of the Void that’s always been the matrix of the historical record of men

Scraps and leftovers under empty skies above and below us, I am an imaginary monkey man.

At night, be afraid and full of crippling fear, hide in a dark corner of a cave without a hot fire

Freezing cold, shivering without the fur of the ones who were here before the naked ape liar

Recording #FakeNews as the historical record for descendants of the ancestors’ laws and lies

What’s left over from Mother Earth’s wet, son of a beach, she cuts God’s nuts, then she dies.

by

r j j stephan, i { header’s my #PinkPanther who used to be fun but now’s black & hungry! }

c. July 25, 2018 Wednesday @ 10:10 AM PDT

{ drafted while listenin’ to Eagles on youTube link @ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--rAINTn2TE&index=5&list=RDC9nIvPb1WQ8 }