With your hands, You glady cover their mouths
Muffling the cries of sorrow
While you are gagged and silent

With your blinded eyes
You fight for the wrong you thought was right
While others die for the truth

With covered ears, You can not hear the pleas of the poor
You are nothing more than a mindless puppet
While others have precious principles

Got girls dragging me in every direction,
got me deciding who’s cool and who’s a distraction,
all these reactions to their reactions,
has me needing a recess to retreat from all this action,

but I guess that’s what I get,
for being one of the Main Attractions,
a magnetic poet with ******* stanzas,
dramatic romances and poetic patterns,

hey friend remember back when,
you’d act natural and things would just naturally happen,
instead of being in something that seems reused and rehearsed,
like all the world’s a stage and we’re all just actors acting,

hey friend remember back when,
we’d act casual and things would just casually happen,
as if these writings weren’t written in present past patterns,
as if I haven’t gotten bigger than any of those assorted Randoms,

with a bunch of instances of coincidences,
that are anything but random,
which has switched this kid’s position,
from being random to being one that’s obsessed on by randoms,

and it’s strange to say the least,
how this change has occurred in such a subtle fashion….

See she was my most casual stalker,
just wanting some time to share my space,
see she was me several years ago,
before all these changes in me finally took place,

she was a socially awkward Closet Genius,
the closest thing to me I’d seen since fame,
closed to most of the world which she felt was dangerous,
see she only opened up to me because here’s where she felt safe,

so I warned her of the Energy Vampires,
then wondered if she was one of those Vampire Dames,
you know the type that act all hyped,
then as soon as they leave you you feel drained,
at any rate I warned her to beware of those that stare,
and told her her soul is worth more than any amount of fame,
then excused myself from the entire situation,
because it was time for me to put on my cleats and return to The Game,

return back to writing these writings which wrote me to fame,
and I know it sounds complicated but really it is simple,
only requires a potent combination of mixing the answers,
with the questions in the middle of pros composed as riddles,

like,

how I’ve got girls dragging me in every direction,
got me deciding who’s cool and who’s a distraction,
all these reactions to their reactions,
has me needing a recess to retreat from all this action,

but I guess that’s what I get,
for being one of the Main Attractions,
a magnetic poet with ******* stanzas,
dramatic romances and poetic patterns,

hey friend remember back when,
you’d act natural and things would just naturally happen,
instead of being in something that seems reused and rehearsed,
like all the world’s a stage and we’re all just actors acting…

∆ LaLux ∆

New book available absolutely FREE, please give it a thumbs up here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005

apparently
we live in times
in which disasters chase each other
around the globe in never-ending sequence

    or is it just the real-time news media hype
    that gives us this impression?

yet even if I generously discard
the ****** massacres and crises
far away

there are enough rough dreadful things
that even if they don’t affect me ******
do touch my heart and make me grieve
with the afflicted

methinks we’re coming near the point
when the majority of normal people on our globe
will rise an tell fanatics of all creeds
to shove it  
     take a shower  
          just go home
and let us live our lives in peace !

those killers of innocents
will die in their own blood

not even mistranslated 72 houris
can save them

   the misguided fanatics of Paris
   who shot happy civilians
   with their Kalashnikovs
   and then blew themselves up
   will have discovered that
   by now

to throw terror and death
into people’s daily lives
is an abominable crime
not a heroic deed

those who instigated the massacre
shall be punished accordingly

fake heroes revealed
as ruthless criminals
shall face judgement

in whose light
their great deeds
are shown as what they are

****** ******

yet – far beyond the proper punishment
    required after cruel acts
there is the need to look ahead
and face the somewhat inconvenient necessity to
    remove the roots of violence veiled as religion
    speak up and stand up firm against fanaticized minorities
        no matter in whose name the claim to act  
    bring peace to regions devastated by the dire games of politics

we simply cannot allow
a bunch of ruthless desperados to dominate our lives

            * *

Your 'Top TRP' news team has just learnt that
A consortium of fanatics and hypocrites now claim
That the proprietorship of 'God' is now with them
And will spew hatred on anyone disobeying them.

Our unnameable “reliable” sources tell us that
Anyone desiring to worship 'God' “more perfectly,”
Henceforth, must follow their rules quite strictly
Or floggings will be handed out quite promptly.

Our brave insider informants have divulged that
At last have awaken our pious priests and scholars
To discuss these “disturbing new developments;”
But they're upset most about lost revenue streams.

The atheists were seen rejoicing and saying that
There is no need any more, “for us to self-promote
While our competitors repeatedly self-mutilate.”
But have they forgotten, Stalin also preached hate?

Our unquestionably reliable survey tells us that
We are angry, sad, glad, disgusted and also clueless
In roughly equal measure. But most are just curious:
“How all this bla-bla will effect commodity prices?”

There was however, an 'odd' man who said that
God is Love and God does not hate. Will turn to rust
He who chooses hate. *“Not in someone's deep pocket
Will I find God. But God I'll find, always in my heart.”

You’re left at the back, anxious at sunrise
as day by day we drift through consciousness.
Ring the Bell. These thoughts are your demise

Act profound, fixating us with lies
Invigorate a prompt adress;
your qualms are back, anxious at sunrise

You’re mother’s boy, your father’s eyes
they know first hand, you’re prone to stress:
so ring the bell. Your thoughts: our demise.

Refrain from fear, nor anthropomorphise:
doe’s endear, their bliss is careless.
You’re stuck at the back, anxious as sons rise

and fall or fail to climb. Surprise,
surprise, with fear of death you now obsess,
over the bell. Our words: your demise.

They say you’re fine, you compromise,
it’s in your head, that last abscess.
You’re left to rot; absent at sunrise
they’ve all forgotten. Those thoughts, your demise.