Something is at war inside of me

Someone said to me
Unless you are
Tired
Stressed
or overworked

And I wanted to say
You just described
My average day

And I was afraid to say it

Afraid not to say it

Afraid I would be a downer if I said that

Afraid I would seem holier than thou if I didn't

Afraid that if I didn't say it I would seem like I was left out of
Or too good for
Our culture

And then I wondered

How did we get here

That they way to fit in
In our culture

Is to be tired, stressed and overworked

And how ****** that is

She sees the walls like iron bars,
Dreams of big dreams but she's on a leash
So even when she pleas, she isn't going far.
What if she leaves, makes like the trees.
I bet she'd see how lovely the world could be.
They use to say her head's in the clouds
But I know she really saw stars.
I know she lived in the stars.

The world appears vast and unknown,
In comfort, it's easy but the door stays closed,
She feels alone but ready to grow
Don't come too close, don't come too close,
Push away those thoughts, leave me alone.
So everyone does and she's left in her zone.

Until one day she sees her leash
For all its real abuse, she bows her head,
And removes that age old noose.
For the first time, in a long time she can see.
America can be beautiful,
America can be free.

My hair is black and yours is yellow
But they never call it that;
Blonde, or like spun gold
Stunning, precious, unattainable.
But you have it,
Like I’ll never have you.
My hair is black but my skin
Is yellow
They call it that
“Slant-eyed”, “foreign”, “unnatural”
At eighteen, I broke black locks with bleach
(I’ve always wanted to be blonde)
And it didn’t look natural at all
I will never be blonde, I will always be
Yellow.
They ask: What are you?
“American, like you”
But they roll their eyes
They tell me to forget my native language
And I don’t know how to tell them I already am
Black and yellow
I think of me then think of bees, and recall
Being stung in the first grade, and how
Ever since, I’m paralyzed at the thought
Of black, and yellow
Black and yellow
Save the bees! on shirts and posters
But no one is saving me.

We have many ideas,
but we do not seem to have idealists anymore.

We have droves of problem solvers,
but we do not seem to have solutions anymore.

We have endless media discourse,
but we do not seem to have dialogue anymore.

We have unrestrained capitalism,
but we do not seem to have money anymore.

We have innumerable drugs,
but we do not seem to have treatment anymore.

We have scores of Baby Boomers,
but we do not seem to have elders anymore.

We have unlimited vacation days,
but we do not seem to have days off anymore.

We have incalculable amounts of information,
but we do not seem to have facts anymore.

We have regular, established elections,
but we do not seem to have elected officials anymore.

We have America,
but we do not seem to have a nation anymore

You can call us all, including our dog, your hero men  
So when you need help quickly call 9/11  
Rescue we try and save you we hope, from Gods sun filled heaven    
but sometimes we lose out to the devil in this ash scattered hell    
Climbing the steps and spraying the fire, that nobody's skin should've felt    
Bringing you out, one by one, just hold on tight to my safety belt.
    
We are there to protect you, not to distress you    
Dressed in blue, pistol and taser at side, all in full view    
We arrest the speedsters, traffickers and all the gangsters    
Let the judges decide if the sentence should incur extra time for visitors    
Your lawyers, barristers and familiar jailbird friends    
Will testify, use false alibi to get you off and to make amends.
    
We're racing to the scene with the medicine in the back    
Inside bed, needles and portable CPR machine, just in case of a heart attack    
We will revive the dead, patch up a sore head and even help mother with newborn    
So let us through with ease and don't for a second put your hand on the horn    
For one day, it might be you or your family or even a long lost friend    
That is waiting for the moving medical miracle machine in the end.
    
We dress in disguise, mainly in tree green and dirt black    
On the back of tanks, falling from the sky and we won't take any flak    
We're here with orders from the guy at the top    
So don't get upset at us, when we come back with a hop    
We fight to protect the freedom of all mankind    
Just doing our job and hoping not to leave, anybody behind.

Remember Your Self [3]

I don’t write because I want to, it’s not exactly pleasurable,
I write because I have to, it’s an addiction, it’s compulsory,
I write because someone’s got to document the events of us,
& our experiences in the collective epoch in this living history,

this whirlwind life that’s such a rush of blurs it’s obscured,
especially in a place as stimulating as Hollywood,
where it’s all too easy to get lost in the intoxicating limelights,
especially when ego strokes are handed out free-of-charge,
expensive tastes are paid, constant cheap thrills are supplied,
there’s an open bar complete with complimentary bottles,
models that’re gorgeous, fortunes that’s enormous sized,
inside are pop chart artists, lots of toxins for thirsty nostrils,
plus encore nights, because you always get the hottest invites,
to the most exclusive events to party with American idols,

but in the sauce of all that awesomeness,
try not to forget yourself & get lost in it,
see Hollywood can certainly be good for your ego,
but can also be bad for your health & often is,

Hollywood,
where people don’t care who you are, only what you are,

Hollywood,
where people only care about you as long as it feeds their ego,
even though one must starve the ego to feed the soul,
they should know, you must starve the ego to feed the soul.

Though it seems these days we’ve got it all backwards,
we feed the ego while starving the soul,
see these superficial feelings are only emotional actors,
our selves are the stage & they’re just playing their roles,

kinda like when you think it’s me that you’re holding,
but in reality it’s just my body it’s not my soul you hold,

oh I’m first to admit I see all of this, but I’m not an Apologist,
so I don’t apologize, see I’m an Emotional Anthropologist,
so I write words with no apologies to try & describe all of this,
for all of us in the form of Poetic Literary Ambiance Lists,

I write these soulful love letters, to our future past selves,
so hopefully we can remember to remember the memories,
& in turn remember remember our selves,
& that’s why I write these literary anthropologies,

I don’t write because I want to, it’s not exactly pleasurable,
I write because I have to, it’s an addiction, it’s compulsory,
I write because someone’s got to document the events of us,
& our experiences in the collective epoch in this living history..

∆ LaLux ∆

from THHT3: The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy vol. 3
available worldwide 9/9/19

one above another
seeking power beyond
Mother, Father, God;
three of a kind
trolled into a full house
to douse the criers with
gaslighting and rhetoric:
"make America hectic";
painting the targets brightly
through the sights of terrorists
sowing blight in the name of
white, white, white
power, money, ***
insecure, bored, loathing--
guns, roaming
thoughts, looming large
online, in hot spots
traffic's booming,
grooming a genocide
that hides in
plain sight