#ricoSacto

Saturday, August 25, 2018

#RednecksOnly #LadiesOnly #WhiteheadOldMenNo

SCOUNDRELS & INFIDELS, #HITME

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
OMG, he used a bad word, an evil word, the end of the world word, it’s a #WordUp, pal
My feet carry me across the ash of this dead star, pretendin’ it’s still alive after it all
A flash of atomic fission and fusion terminated the essence of #Rock remnants of spark
In the blackness of the emptiness of #Space, there is no# Time, you are It, you are Dark.

I don’t mean your skin or your mind inside your fouled-up cro-magnon, top-shelf above
God’s heart beats for a certain number of pumps and that’s it, that’s all, your caput, Love
Not only because you thought you were so pretty and/or smart in too-human crop shrills
But wait, but also there is no God, this is an accident of atomic collision without any Wills.

Amazing in the grace and outrageousness of supernatural emptiness, an obedient, #Fippy
An unknown, mighty invisible legend of the human mind, a contrivance of extinction fear
Stronger than the suboordinates and weak examples of genetic recombination gone #Viral
Northern to southern hemisphere, all around the circumference of the equator, Adam fell.

It’s a mythological generalization of the hidden misery to be abandoned, without a backup
Nobody to cover your #Six when your yin is exposed to someone else’s yang, “Yah! Giddyup!”
No reason to feel left out of the saddle without a foot in a stirrup my friend, ride her bareback
Hold tighter than a buckin’ strap and get ready to be thrown into the middle of a jet tarmac.

Whine and write about the woes of your conscious mind’s confrontations with fear’s whiplash
It comes and goes but it’s never real, it’s always an illusion of “Feeling” the superhero #Flash
Feeling inside what you think anyone feels outside of yourself is an act of futility, self-torture
If there’s a match at once and suddenly the match breaks apart a heart, love remains pure.

A philosopher inside job, it’s not the Time in inner nor outer Space no notice of Space’s Void
Pills n’ burnin’ cherry tree sap from livin’ in the crib of Captain America, refuge of the Freud
Unconscious. burned Ego and an Id’s Super Ego, #FakeNews crumblin’, sabotagin’ my solace
Get back in your dimension, back to #Scoundrels and #Infidels say that to my go-dam face.

by
r j j stephan, i
c. August 25, 2018 Saturday @00:30 AM PST
{ written while listenin’ to @SamSmith #TheThrillOfItAll Tour link @ https://youtu.be/7AXo-bYGXI4 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

Friday, August 24, 2018

#JerseyDevil @JerseyDevil on the #EveOfTheMiscarriage

MIRTH AND THAT SMELL, KYPD

by
Laughin’ because it smells like gunpowder in the air, again a battle to avoid a reaper
No peace for longer than a New York Minute, it’s the nature of the battling soulmate
Burden is no more nor less than the future well-being of the Earth, mundane ecosystem
Presence regurgitated from the historical past of Time and Space, omnibus in a meme.

I’m not laugh-in’ just so you know, when I say something I think is funny, I won’t grin
Join in the stupefied mirth and recollect your function on this back stage for a thin fin
In heaven, your soul sheds your material thing, what you thought you were, you weren’t
Don’t look happy yet don’t look sad or lonely or uncomfortable, look like you do, gent.

Dropped a dime on me and you when we weren’t lookin’ and the grim reaper procrastinated
Needed to take one of ours into the inner circle where only the chosen few are initiated
Secrets divulged as if they assuage the fear and angst at the bottom of the holy cherry pit
You can’t see it but you can kill it if you just conjure up the right spell for hocus pocus.

Firewood burns but it’s not like that smell, like gunpowder burning, maybe napalm dust
Blinded and muted without hope to regain the power lost to the agent of fallacious rust
A moronic manifestation of the original Adam, first dude before every other who birthed
Twisted and burned, nothing to hold together the pain and suffering or the shock or awe.

An arrow clean through the heart’s left ventricle began the leak, life evolved to be Love
Omen of the alpha and omega in the system of this ups and downs, a round trip so easy
Raised hands, feet up on a rest to make sure the black panther feels the growl of the dove
I am what I’ve been since day one, no name for it except, lil ole me, so below, as above.

by
r j j stephan, i { “Hunter of Invisible Game” -- #BruceSpringsteen }
c. August 24, 2018 Friday @ 1:11 AM PST
{ drafted while listenin’ to the #JerseyDevil @Springsteen #HighHopesCD & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/KYEg8K5HKzM }

W.W.A.R.D.?