#Secrets #FeelingAlright #Magic #Majique #Vamanos #HowFarIsHeavenAgain? #Chipmunks @BoysRoundHere

CONSIDER A SORCERER’S SOURCE

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Friday, January 25, 2019

sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

On the freeway or the turnpike or the highway or expressway or tollway, exercising my atoms

Movin’ the flow so it doesn’t slow down and die of being too slow, eaten by the hungry ones

Big teeth and empty bellies, claws and penchant for rippin’ flesh to shreds, get on your shoes

It’s all up to you and I how it’s all gonna go, turn up the tunes and drop the top, let us cruise.

Occult code of conduct from ancestors of #KublaKhanKlan, #Hammurabi or Annie Sullivan

Who they were becomes legend if it ever sees the light of day, must be livin’ right by the river

On a horse’s back, a bicycle’s seat, motorcycle brain bucket’s barred, free long hair flow, man

Leathers on arse and back, guns sunburned tan, lumped tattoo knots, a leather gloved hand.

OK, so found on the road anyway without a breath left in my chaps but I still see the traffic

Suddenly lights, sirens and uniformed, critical, flashing, blue, yellow and red lights aflick

Comin’ from the dead of the darkness of night, first in line is a point, a dot of an ink spot

Singin’ the songs of the sirens and birds of paradise, they looked nice from afar, so hot!

In this time in this space, your free will must adapt to the gravity of the wobbling globule

Wet mud, dry dirt, old star junk, burned out asteroid headed for the singularity’s crunch

No Big Bang except in the mind of the moonbeams, even when you’re copacetic, it changes

Nothing you can do unless you are the wizard of the magic spells, convocation alien fangs.

Try to get back on the horse and ride this one out, it matters that you jump right on in

Use your feet to walk or run, use your wheels to speed on down the freeway of eternity

Where the Earth won’t turn for you anymore, no more human interaction, a Dead Sea

Using the alpha and omega in the numerical abstraction, what’s burnin’ the sun’s kin?

Stars above, below and everywhere all around except millions of kilometers apart, a void

Try to tell me and prove that this consciousness you’re experiencing is more than a dream

Asleep is all I know, it’s all I’ve found that explains the bizarre facts of life, we’re an android

With all of the Time in the world of Space, let’s roll until the last stand, it’s comin, SCREAM!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Friday January 25, 2019 A.D. @ 9:62 AM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to the #FreewayOfLove ala #Queen Aretha Franklin again with her 2.5 million minions, on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/sD_MriSGa04 }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#Psyche #ToxicWord & #Cosmos as nobody knows it! #Toxic @Toxic @CarlSagan @NeilDeGrasseTyson

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MATTER FORMA DEADMAN HAND

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Thursday, January 24, 2019

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xoxoxoxtoxicoxoxoxox

Cowboys when they were needed and Indians without a choice, great spirits’ spider-man sins

All of them moved the innocent to the bag full of valor carried until thin air’s forces go up, fly

Used to be the small babies and children, teenage fighting men thrown in dark ass dungeons

Turned toward the burning star’s sunlight, wrinkled and desperate to stay and afraid to die.

Aces and eights is all I’ve ever wanted little mama, was it askin’ too much, I think, I am, see?

It’s whatever it takes to win the hand and bluff your way to the victory, embracing inferiority

Tempted to file for bankruptcy of ethics ‘cause without justice there is nothing but what I got

Injustice of treatment by ne’er do wells who ought to have followed Golden Rules but did not.

Unless you’ve got four aces or trip queens, the one-eyed jack will have to do for an old maid

Wanting to travel in the mist with the misfits is over the top, on a trip, on a boat or on a jet

Mixin’ it all up in the menu-do of sensation and recollection from the ancestral history, I bet

No one will ever know that pain and suffering I had before the seventh day of a creator-creed.

Most valuable, least desirable, like bills and love letters in a mailbox out front, WTF goin’ on

Nobody knows but some of us care and we’ll get to the bottom of it, turnin’ upside down, run!

Dreamin’ and singin’ a melody that fits with the crazy causes of nutty effects, mellow funkin’

Sweet, warm, white or tan, yellow or black, skin tight over the couple hundred bones, bonkin’

Fools rush in where wise men fear to go and it appears that we’re flush with fools, all rushin’

Under north stars and southern borders’ walls and fences, babies born too close for the callin’

Miracle that your mother and father fumbled you into this matrix of crystalline, all my rules

Daughters grownup, awakened at the fork in the road with nowhere else to go, goddess’ fools.

Last breath, last movement of the concerto, of the rats and women who roam where I was

In and out of the holy caves and bottomless holes underground down to the core, she does

Captains and lieutenants are the leaders of the followers, corporals and private first classes

Dusted off the god and got gold, had an extra ‘l’ left over, slipped it to the gods’ gold asses.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Thursday January 24th, 2019 A.D. @ 5:55 PM PST

{ drafted while listenin’ to WAR THE BAND #SlippinIntoDarkness & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/RFSWW4O6QNM }

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WhoAreYou #YouHaveNoIdea #ricoSacto @ricoSacto #Ends

STAGES FAR AWAY, LUCKY SHOTS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, January 21, 2019

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Cowboys and Indians from first engagement, I want what you have, buy it or take it by force

There but it’s not there, yet it is when the time comes for action and safe resolution of melee

After the roadies have packed up the buses to get back to the airport, got paid and a divorce

Cowboys and Indians, everywhere USA and elsewhere on any continent, staged, on display.

Seattle to NYC, through the ORD and the MIA, over to DAL, PHX and back to the rat vat

Punched in the face by the lead loaded fists of the Tobors, only robots meeting gods’ sons

Not even one or two slip by, old big shots eliminated, one by one, us, priests and the nuns

We weren’t told the absolute truth, God or the gods didn’t help the sworn testimony scat.

I may get obtuse on you for a moment and try some metaphysical calculation of con-jobs

Get ready for the worst because here is my best for the old big shots, I don’t need any dogs

Voters for the parties of fools and sheepherders, barkers at the trees, all pi-quine, ho-slobs

I do not feel threatened by the sticks and stones thrown at my bones, call me pig to the hogs.

On the road again to set up another stage in another town until the end of the tour and girls

Back to fishin’ on vacation, just want to stay home by the concrete pond, shootin’ squirrels

Yeah, country boy from the city gettin’ the hunter plaid on, red on black, black on blue too

Whatever it takes and however long until the bitter end, surfin’ with aliens on cosmic stew.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Monday, January 21, 2019 A.D. @ 13:13 hours PDT

{ DRAFTED WHILE LISTENIN’ to #TowerOfPower #YoureStillAYoungMan & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/exVwi9IhIik }

 

W.W.A.R.D.?