#ThereThereNow #SettleDownOrYOUllHaveAnAneurism

YONDER, YON, HITHER & THITHER

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, March 31, 2020

-------------- #TickTockTickTock -------------

Unholy to the taste of the holy and reverent souls in tallyho bodies of human runes’ bones

Trebles and bass in a concerto playin’ the sharps and flats like there’s nothing left to say

But every day is today without fail, even yesterday for a moment was the ol’ rolling stones

For the philosophers to collect before they die to see the Truth and pretend in the replay.

We all heard the rocks sing it hard and soft, in the studio and on the road, cops searched me

For the answer to the question that nobody knew to ask, what’s the answer to a rea; mystery

Extrapolated in the form of syllogistic arguments, in a rational, logical method, listen my son

Philosophers’ stones roll down a volcano after an eruption of fool’s gold & silver tons of fun.

I can’t recollect my first scream but I assume it was quite a bellow comin’ out of the darkness

From the warm and dark blood fest in the mama womb, I got decades of use out of the egg roe

Fertilized by only the gods know what, microscopic flagella searchin’ for the home’s river flow

Only one vacancy for the One but not for the many who will fail the trip & die a hero demise.

Hearing what only deaf animals can hear, seeing only what blind men can see, that’s a trip

Reality of one’s perception of the world is tantamount to being happy and living on the flip

Meaning something subtle and no doubt incomprehensible to the rational being, logic is up

Irrationality is goin’ down like it or not, I’ll get the gist of it before my last gasp’s gold cup.

Periwinkle and scarlet are the colors of my shield, force field around my lead turned it to gold

Wherever I go, any direction, up, down or North, South, East or West, I get where I gotta go

Here and now is a miracle only dead men can’t get a grip on, if you’re alive, you’re in this jive

There’s nobody who has ever been born on this planet who ever died just to forever stay alive.

Punks all gone now, they’ve lost their lives to the hither and thither, beyond the yonder bench

To be or not to be the man that walks softly in the sandy beaches of the coast, that’s the ticket

All of it is all you know, stop thinking that you don’t know it all since there’s nothing to pinch

Can’t steal anything that’s already yours, you’ve no reason to own it, you are what it is, slick!

by

r j j stephan, i

c. Mardi, March 31st, 2020 A.D. @ 6:25 PM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to the #PhilosophersStone in a silver-lined loop by Van Morrison link @ https://youtu.be/hrsq1werkfs }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#WholeWorldInMyHands or was it He? #StruggleOn #WaitUntil2080AD

POTUS’ SCUTTLEBUTT BRAIN TRUST

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Tuesday, March 31, 2020

------  #TERRORisWELCOME  ------

Too busy for this complicated mess, we can’t get any work done, death snuck-in unheard of

Hillbilly bones deep down inside of men and women in the parties with tater ships of a dove

Born to run and rule the roost of the masses who need to be told where & how to be the herd

They had no idea at birth in Time and Space, queens, kings, princes, princesses of the absurd.

This is my song I’m singing about the city and the country girls, this ain’t no war’s love fest

It’s all in the jeans, those two pegs below your heart and soul’s pretty face and bone’s best

Get the jump on the rest of the herd bein’ related to the stud bull and head cow of the DNA

No choice that it’s just a matter of natural selection, the strong survive, the weak die today!

There’s just not enough Time on Earth to do everything that a spirit needs to do amidst chaos

Ultimate apex and core of the center of the cosmic egg, abstracted from the dead & gone loss

Mothers of the Earth born to run the show and allow the studs to be led by nose ring bull-sit

No hiding except behind the brain malfunction genes, mothers let the gene splices survive it.

There never was anything wrong with being lost in Paradise’s garden with nobody to screw

Just as you got adjusted to the solo flight, Adam or whomever you decided to leave as legend

Got all depressed and started crying to the creator for company, somebody to love, not a man

So, here we are, fans of the first and the following ones that got a city and country queen tan.

Pretty little queenies comin’ out of the woodwork from the fathers and mothers who conjured

The magic bone matrix that moves to the sway tunes of the country saw on the fiddle endured

Talkin’ country-city girls in green jeans, long sweaters, blouses, long dresses and short skirts

No reason for expectations to be unreasonable but they are, therefore, never expect any flirts.

Tempting your attention to move from yourself to somebody else without any payoff to flow

Downriver attention to absorb whatever bytes of ejaculated DNA survive, as above, so below

Function of the equations of signs and lines drawn on white chalk’s black boards, E’s squared

You’re the Mass and Light needing Beatles and Beatniks to couple, beatin’ your knees in bed.

Eggs split and sometimes they just come on down together, same time, same place, Easter pi

3.14 of the saving creator who made the mess and tried to clean it up, failure is all we’ve got

There was no saving for the entire creation, preaching to ones who believe there’s no reason

To be or not to be, more or less half of the world’s multi-lingual bone bags, a century begone!

Hillbillies ain’t as silly as first thought, they have an ear to the ground, it’s quakin’ & shakin’

No accent when you hear the word made flesh has returned for the Rapture, the rupture Sin

Immortal rocks that roll around in circles as the broken bits of the super nova futuristic past

South of Queens or in Nero’s fallen nation y’all be honkytonk rockin’ a huge Trumpian blast.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. March 31st, 2020 A.D. @ 9:11 AM PST

{ Drilled this out of the lead & turned it into shiny gold while listenin’ to @BlakeShelton & Trace.adkins #HillbillyBone in a loop link on youTube @ https://youtu.be/OGoiiwxTWeE }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?

#OutOfReach #DontTryToExtendYourself #YouCannotGetThatFar

STRUGGLE AWAY FROM ME? DIG

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Monday, March 30, 2020

---------  #ItIsInThemJeansAfterall ---------

I have had this internal conversation with myself time after time and to no avail, it’s amazing

Got to admit once you get past the finish line, it’s all cherished more than you thought my king

Desires and the ability to forget everything known to mankind and be at One like a lost pawn

Or them or anyone else on this planet’s surface, not one animal or plant to aid in a new dawn.

Queens if you need the power to check or checkmate on the board of sixty four, eight by eight

All of the right moves from knight to rook, bishop pricking the queen to move in, bats as bait

Perfection or not, it all rolls around, alternates the darkness and light from the scoop of pain

Around and nearby you and I, happy to see the precious sky of blue & hear a rhapsody’s rain.

It’s impossible to get older than a decade of clever spins & elliptical revolutions, I’m ignorant

Death comes callin’ before you’ve found out who is alive, here and now, much less death sent

Warning to children, innocent of the meaning of life’s series of escapes from bullit or sword

Attempting to scythe us all eventually, before our time and eventually, having the last word.

Using the Word as an abstract expression of the natural reality of beings who feel part of it

That is the challenge for the humane among the scribblers of whom I am NOT one, we got it

There is not a shred of truth in the notion that words written or said means something’s in it

On the surface or deep down to the core at the center of the mass, a taste of waste, aw shyte!

Who is more important after you die when either you’re soul’s clever enough to live or die

Or it winds up having to pay the karma built up over the time you’ve spent in the struggle

To be a good man or woman after being a well-raised or abused child is nearly impossible

You need pity and mercy to forgive the stupid and inept for hip, ape-like moral imperatives.

What’s too bad is the fact that if you fail to do the right thing on the first trip, it’ll try to repeat

Ad infinitum until you get the action right and perform the way you’re designed, as raw meat

Nobody cares about you more than you do, if you care to survive as long as possible, disobey

Oh deductions from Plato to Kant, Categorical Imperatives have Unconditional Truth to pay.

by

r j j stephan, i

c. March 30th, 2020 A.D. @ 6:66 PM PST

{ Drafted while listenin’ to #TheHappening by the Supremes on The Ed Sullivan Show on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/OZ3DKv6ft_0 }

FINIS

W.W.A.R.D.?