She was in the corner,
     Not wanting to be seen.
She was so invisible,
      Yet not unseen.
No one saw her,
       Yet she was the centre of the attention,
She kept to herself;
An antisocial babe.
She was visible,
Through her invisibility.

Lost,
amongst the chaos, caught outside with a long way to go,
calm,
within the center, inside everything comes 360° full circle,

call it a circle but it’s more of a spiral,
careful don’t want to hurt you when I go ******,
but the truth is the first rule of nature is survival,
chaos outside crack pipes alight demoralized fools act suicidal,

see healing can help but it can also hurt you,
especially if you forget your virtues,

trust me you must be occasionally criticized passionately,
for acting out irrationally if not you’re not living your truth,
too caught up in your own closed captions to actually,
see passed the rose glasses that skews your worldview,

out past curfew brazenly making your way merrily,
down that yellow brick road until you stub your toe I told you,
healing can hurt you if you forget your virtues,
still you choose to refuse the truth shown in your own show,

okay your choice to choose now without further ado, the news,

this just in, we’re all caught in whirlpools,
drains all clogged with heirlooms,
energy vampires virgule our virtues,
as slashed wrist fill bathtubs, pills lay on pillows in bedrooms,

these cities are pretty venues for gritty citizen cesspools,
sporadic & magic with hearts as dark as our issues,
no Jim Henson only thuggish muppets wretched henchmen,
puzzled puppets & sketchy Skeksis from The Dark Crystal,

it’s a bizarre & awkward Little Shop of Horrors,
a smorgasbord of unordered  hors d’oeuvres served cold,
& you’re confused of course because you didn’t order more,
plus it smells horrible oh well it’s only the first course,

anyways what’s on the menu today,
in this Showroom AKA Stolen Souls Salesroom’s display,
****** Nephews that resist rescue,
plus a side of drunken Lethargic Legume pate,

in other words intoxicated obnoxious Obscene Family Beans,
that are nostalgic for forgotten things that’ve long gone away,

& what have you on menu #2,
Locobutt Coconuts, crazy nuts Loony Tunes that lack values,
in other words hardheaded tropical crazy assed loons,
animated guys that apply topical gravy acid to cashews,
excuse me, did I offend you is that why you gave your opinion,
well opinions are like ******* & I’m sorry but I didn’t ask you,

I’ll harass you, if I want to, & harass her *** too,
I’m lampooned, lampin’ on a lagoon in a pontoon,
going gorillas, with my baboons in the full moon,
hope to not get harpooned too soon high as a kite at high noon,

call me Sun, or Sultan,
everyone is overdone, it’s insultin’,
brainwashed, & super spun,
the buzzer buzzed, the ***** laundry’s done,

hang it out to dry in the breeze,
air it out the window for everyone to see,
then look up at the sky, & tell me what you see,
one life at a time out here in San Franpsy, thunder & lightning,

here in San Franpsy, the sky, has a reddish haze,
smoke from Ukraine, magic mushrooms & acid rain,

we have all types of weather here in San Franpsycho,
slash your wrists just to check your vitals,

San Franpsycho, ******, psy-trance,
that Psy guy, with his Gangnam dance, dance monkey dance, strung out junkies, self made flunkies,
& 3rd rate rejects with a 2nd chance,

computer programmers,
digital techno gods,
programming the New World Order,
Zuckerberg & Steve Jobs,
& yeah the equation is way off,
but somehow we’ll even the odds,

even when Silk Road is taken down,
at the public library by out of town Federal Agents,
the caterpillars still make silk from mother’s milk,
still there are celebrations without any occasions,

from Hiroshima to Fukushima,
laughter from the hyphy hellish hyenas,
belly of the Beast ****tting out diarrhea,
hey anyone have any memories for my ongoing amnesia,
or maybe some anesthesia for this creative creature,
jeez I can barely breath I need to leave but,
I’m disorientated deliriously stumbling around this arena,
where I was just served a subpoena to answer to Jesus,
but I’m not ready to leave just yet, enjoying the scenery bruh,
we’re all portraits portrayed in The Great Life Galleria,

& I’m enjoying the show laughing madly like the hellish hyenas,
tip toeing on eggshells a tipsy bombed out bombshell ballerina,
as if it’s all good ‘cause I haven’t seen a real life Hiroshima,
washing down a divine diva’s cleavage,
with medical marijuana margaritas,
shouting out “Eureka”, struck gold & made a deal with Jesus,

Christ, or Jackson,
like Mike, or Michael,
The mirrored man is the boogieman, nothing’s normal,
****, it all goes down in San Franpsycho,

thee end, is coming soon, do what you have to for survival…

They say, thee end’s coming soon,
thought there was more to say,
really though,
how much more can we say?

Lost,
amongst the chaos caught outside with a long way to go,
calm,
within the center inside everything comes 360° full circle...

from THHT3: Dark Lights | Bright Shadows
available worldwide: 9/9/19

Even though these hills have eyes, they can still feel real lonely,
when perceived from these crystal castles that we’ve built,
above plastic palm trees, these people can seem real phony,
when seeing the bogus smiles shown through their botox lips,

clasping the latest fashion handbag accessory,
having every material possession that’s any sign of wealth,
grasping at anything that adequately fakes actual authenticity,
slowly rolling Bugattis casually, got good credit but bad health,
possessing a staggering abundance of plush slush funds,
but lacking anything that has any real substance of self,

& I see it all so well, from my place up in the hills, that it’s felt,
it hurts because most only care about vanity & nothing else,

meanwhile back in my life I rise when the sun sets,
I get up with the dark moon feeling like a cartoon protagonist,
acting on set in a surreal scene out of tune & out of character
other actors are acting too, but they’re just talking ****t,
over eager underachievers with with no directive or narrative,
these amateurs are irritating don’t know why I put up with it,

why’d I come down from my house in the hills,
I’ve got nothing to prove, the truth always comes to the light,
especially when everyone’s gone home, & I’m alone,
poolside view wide, just Me Myself & I,

I wish I had something extra epic to say here,
I want to change the world by writing the perfect verse,
hoping if I get my 10,000 hours in I’ll master my craft,
state the perfect fact & finally get the respect that I deserve,

& maybe, just maybe, by doing so I’ll be able to successfully,
change this world for the better before it gets any worse,

sure is cold up here, staring out this window with a view,
sure is cold in here, heart burning up inside trying to stay cool,
guess it’s all just point of view, even though my view is skewed,
as distorted as it might be, it still appears to be my truth,

& it’s got a beautiful view too, no pretendin' it’s tremendous,
here I write all my truth, to you, dedicated to these lifelines,
like Santiago in Hemingway’s The Old Man & The Sea,
till my sun sets in Sun Valley so tired been running for lifetimes

running & writing,
& writing, & writing, & writing, & writing,

trying, to create the cure for society’s ills,
like The Cancer Research Institute or AEBi in Israel,
replying, to fill, every lost soul that writes me their will,
lost souls, in these lost hills, that got everything except healed,
sand castles in the sand, wash away with waves & are rebuilt,
in a house on stilts, which sits on the hill where it was built,
in a room with a view, where I see everything except for myself,
stairs, ascend down, sun down, stare out, see the full town lit,

lazy lights twinkle,
like the fallen stars they hold,
success & failure both only a stone’s throw away,
so I suppose that’s just the way it goes,

bones, buried under this scorched earth,
infidels on Indian burial grounds,
deaths televised live with no attention paid to still births,
& yeah that’s the truth, & yeah the truth hurts,
but karma’s got a way of catching up with us no need to rush,
we all get what we deserve sooner or later for better or worse,

& since that’s the case I’m just going to stay here at my place,
in the hills where I hide from the world & I write my poetic will,
even though up here it sometimes gets so cold,
my heart feels like it’s froze, going to explode & I get the chills,
wondering if my death will go unnoticed if I die tonight,
but someone’s always watching in this city so I doubt it will,

see these hills have eyes, still they can still feel real lonely,
when perceived from these crystal castles that we’ve built,
above plastic palm trees, these people can seem real phony,
when seeing the bogus smiles shown through their botox lips…

∆ LaLux ∆
THHT3
9/9/19