#ricoSacto

Thursday, November 01, 2018

#WhoAreYou #IAmTheEnemy @ricoSacto #ricoSacto



BULGER’S TONGUE, SAYS NO MORE
Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, November 1, 2018
 
Pour the warm water over the cold and dead head, recollecting ice cream cones and hot rods
You are a free rocking bone sack and that’s the way it has to be, devolved from invisible gods
Nothin’ controversial in your bone dome, synapses’ bobbers up n’ down, pounded brain-dead
Ignition of the gas and inflaming the deep pond of idiots, morons and terrorists, all offended.

Your mother and father left you out in the cold before or after their deaths, a poor baby alone
Joined the Union’s League of distinguished, naked boys swimming in a pool at a club of stone
Elder men of Chicago, New York, Miami, Seattle, L.A., Natives extinction reserves of America
Let the females, sisters, daughters and wives be the mothers of natural birth, All is of my Ma.

Before my conception I did’t care, I was not alive, I did not exist as I will not when I’m dead
To the front of the past recollection, avoid the final conceptual analysis of matter’s of being
Why you are alive, what is this life all about, frontal lobe, a divine privilege to be punished
For the ancestral heritage of disobeying signals of One creator, a Being of and for Nothing.

Suicidal murder of the qualified living things we eat and excrete, that’s all in Man’s control
It’s the maniacal and brain dead you will fall so far down the rabbit hole, you’ll lose it all
Everything you experienced and all you can remember will be forgotten, just a N.Y. minute
Down south of the border, Eagles are squawking, line is drawn, spy Trojan Horse, Halts!

When the radio DJ’s want to defend the W  hitey: United States of America v. James J. Bulger
They may all meet the identical fate of a #FrenchKiss with a dull shank, a pick stickin’ razor
It’s not for me to say or know the reasons why people fear threatening attorneys-at-outlaw
Evolution of the primate into your daughter’s date gives an unnatural selection of God’s flaw.

Question everything, have blind faith in nothing humanoid, lust for solace and be super slick
With the fifty emails a day to clog up your inbox, I will increase that too, I don’t give a lick
It will make you feel as if someone is listenin’ to your commanding requests, download Adam
Earthbound imagination here in my bloody battle’s war, blessed, gods’ all favor the damned.

You and Whitey and everyone else will swim with the fishes, land-sharks sent Whitey to hell
As you tweak the two lips of blasphemy and rat out your brothers, strokin’ your pants of dung
Key is to make connections, no need to swim with fish or be the fruit of nuts or tune of a song
Ancient scrolls of World Series’ bytes, tired records pitchin’ crazy screwballs, tongue is held!

by
r j j stephan, i
c. BLOWVEMBER 1, 2018 AD @ 1:11 PM PST
{ drafted listenin’ to the The Rolling Stones #LetItBleed & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/PwRg_Cqhs6U?list=RDPwRg_Cqhs6U

W.W.A.R.D.?

Wednesday, October 31, 2018

#WitchesHallow #NeverForget #LastBreathWillCome @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

 

DON’T LIE TO ME BUT IF YOU MUST
by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, October 31, 2018
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Make sure it’s worth the risk of losing the love of your life when you take on the assignment
If you choose to accept it, you will be well compensated without worry for fame heaven sent
Chances are slim and none this isn’t just a nightmare, dream within a dream, without weight
It doesn’t matter a bit if you honor the ethics of civilization or that you deduce a Gomer‘s fate.

Hockey puck flyin’ past the blue line for an icing call, so the defense turns to an offensive role
Reverse skating and on defense going backward at the netted target, screening the goal hole
Style and grace on blades of steel, on a wooden stick of backup pine to slap shots, high stick
Checkin’ the bodies up against the count of the command, all’s well and counting down quick.

There’s feathers on the ground but more still on the Eagle flyin’ above to the nest, high or low
On a peak of a mountain, Big Mouth open wide like a gaping Mariana Trench rockin’ below
In some kind of a stranglehold on the culture’s voice, a muffler stops the signals to choke it
Air to breathe and gas to burn, gravity to churn, make the world turn, fly around, oval orbit.

You will, they will, we all will do what e’er needs to be done before we die, including nothing
To know that there is nothing that anyone can do about anything, is to know the truth well
Without compromise, from the thing itself, the matter, cell by cell of the body and soul ring
DNA and RNA blocks to form the matter, to shape and force it’s being to become, all #Hell.

by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mercredi, ROCKTOBER 31, 2018 @ 10:10 PM PST
{ DRAFTED while jammin’ to Stevie Nicks #EdgeOfSeventeen concert #LiveInChicago on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/S3DhXcQepbY }

W.W.A.R.D.?

BONA VENTURA------- & a Happy #WitchsHollow to y'all! ------------->>>>>>>>>> @ricoSacto #ricoSacto

COME TO STARS’ & SAINTS’ HALOS

by
Richard Joseph Stephan · Wednesday, October 31, 2018
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If not for the evolution of the orgasm, just like the lemmings jump, mammals would vanish
What I’m referring to is Nature’s evolution would never allow survival of any shadow’s dish
If not for the cosmic soup left over from the Big Bang’s solar system, creative internet stream
From Nothing we all became what we are, what you see’s what you get, our holyhell scream.

My town and your ciudad in the middle of nowhere or deep in a hood’s magnificent OMG
I do not exaggerate when I say that One could not make this up, it must be an accident I see
Complete and utter fear of the shadows that move in the day and the night, irrational scare
Get jacked up on the sugar and monosodium glute, fascinated by all of the girls’ long hair.

It’s much more and much less at the same time, in spades, play cards or roll snake eyes’ die
Anything to win the jackpot that is the jackass’s gold down the road, invested blue soul’s ice
Pawned it all to get the return of it all, now with nothing left after the last bet came up dry
It’s purple or red at one extreme of the spectrum, Spirit devours the prism’s light, high price.

In a dark place where the stars never sparkle, the sun never shines, there is Nothing living
No bodies and no souls, no spirits in the night, from my lips to God’s ears’ good old waxing
I am not in jail, I am not in a full lockdown, high security place free from the shanking dag
Killed none, blamed for a spree on fifteen or twenty, innocent of the guilt, a murdered jag.

From the tip of the Earth’s mountain snowcaps to the bottom of the Mariana Trench’s matrix
Everything’s everything and that appears to be an inescapable fact of life, as is you got my six
From the virus to the dinosaurs, spiders, snakes and Homo Erectus, we’ve come into this One
Hide under your bed, FUN to be these Homo Sapiens on a #Holloween dead moon, BOO son!

When you die, you’re dead and I’m really not a Jehova perpetrator of Truth or Lies of sheet
Being in me is exactly like the being in you, consume my flesh and bone, get you in the mood
Without the power, Corpus Christ to die and there is no spirit or soul to boot, so die real good
Revolutions won’t be televised but UFO’s left monster signs, we’re all Holloween sweet meat.

by
r j j stephan, i
c. Mercredi, ROCKTOBER 31, 2018 @ 7:11 AM PST

W.W.A.R.D.?