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Aaron LaLux Aug 2019
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
From The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy Vol.3: Dark Lights | Bright Shadows, available worldwide 9/9/19
Aaron LaLux Aug 2019
Tea With Yoda [50]

Having a Tea Ceremony,
with Yoda in a pagoda,
they say life’s a ladder,
He says it’s more like a totem,

trying to make ends meet for ends meat,
by exceeding expectations & meeting quotas,

trying to make my six senses see as clear as my mentor’s,
a Sensi with stressless sensibilities yet infinite responsibilities,
He’s a mature mixture of past scriptures & vast futures,
the perfect fusion to provide ideal solutions effectively,
to dispel all of the confusing illusions that currently occur,
so that my six senses can make sense of it & see clearly,  
& that’s exactly why I’m grateful He’s my mentor,
I clear my mind when I enter his temple & listen attentively,

He’s Mr. Miyagi,  Professor X, Stephen Miles, Morpheus,  
Gandalf, Splinter, & Obi Wan, all rolled into one,
His composition is awesome so when taking lessons,
I make sure to be free of all distractions going on,

attempting to not take meetings yet people keep calling,
but phone’s off so I don’t see nor take note of the notifications,
I just go off like a boat on the edge of Niagara with no motor,
got expense taste life’s great though no time to be wasting,

gotta find a way to keep speed without delay & without haste,
because patience is key but time won’t wait,

so I stay totally outta touch with the clubs & the whole scene,
so focused I don’t even notice those overblown cokeheads,
light so bright that I’m always getting it in even when I go out,
light always burns but never burns out even at it’s lowest,
heard them mention a question but didn’t return the gesture,
was unsure of their motives plus the question sounded loaded,
goin' all in outta control only thing I limit is my exposure,
on balance with my talents in a pair of New Balances,
meanwhile they’re still trying to gain their composure,
I swear to God I’m not a rock nor in a hard place,
but I do rock Ohms on mountain tops complete with boulders,
shout out to Colorado though I boast low key so no bravado,
soul sans ego, modest & honest like a Buffalo Soldier,
no need to buy game it’s already in the bag sewed close,
& I’m relaxed shoes off spine upright aligned in the Lotus,
having a Tea Ceremony, with Yoda in a pagoda,

having a Tea Ceremony, with Yoda in a pagoda,
they say life’s a ladder, He says it’s more like a totem,
trying to make ends meet for ends meat,
by exceeding expectations & meeting quotas…

∆ LaLux ∆
@aaronlalux
from THHT3: Dark Lights & Bright Shadows 9/9/19
carminayasmin Aug 2019
Extract the blood,
the metaphor for this euphoric movie I had directed under the fall of night, alone.
The film began to develop as the bottles began to pile
and thus I began to envision these delusions which I lust would become a reality.
We were a movie.
Especially when your smoke filled my mouth and you fed me love off of tables.
Made me hazy it smelt so gentle it burned so numb.
Tacky hands rode my skin,
engraving scars of diamonds.
My ego erupted; became so ******* rich.
Illusion said I could buy your love
but your eyes were guilty of unfazed.
Debuts don’t faze millionaires, we just look like more money.
Millionaires don’t watch our movies.
11 August, 19 03:37
JaxSpade Jul 2019
In the heliopause
Where the suns magnetic field stops
Between the stars
Man has no cause
Where the solar winds drop
Away from the heliosphere
In a universe so cold
Interstellar space grows
In matters of gases, ionic & atomic
Wearing molecular masks
Cosmic rays blasts
Intergalactic space
Where it's safe from human trash
Primordial nucleosynthesis
Produce nuclei
Without hate without race
Bigs bang
unstoppable isotopes
In particle rains
In the heliopause
I had a dream
Where peace was
Radiating in a radiation
Far from us
Where transient astronomical events
Occur in evolutionary stages
Of massive stardust
Where there is no Hollywood
And progenitors accretion
Form the art
There is a space
Interstellar
Without a human face
To bring it to ruin
Matt Bernstein Jun 2019
A shutter clicks in flashing colors,
recording the imaginary.

The wheezing voice of tales unfolding,
now hoarse from an endless retelling.

Capture what we can't remember,
make up everything that's left.

A faint, but echoed, call to arms
that no on hears on set
Kelsey Ann May 2019
hopefuls
stay afloat
in paper boats
bleeding ink
as they sink
in a sea of stars
Leslie Ledezma Apr 2019
Divinity of the Day lets me think I’m in the sky
But that’s alright, like to go about this blind
Exiled darling wandering in the summer blessedly long
Divinity of the Day, my whispered prayer through the dark

God, that enthralled
you read in a raindrop
before it hits the ground
sunset boulevard torch,
is up one of these bends,
waved in night
West Hollywood Rimbaud,
feathers falling into my hair,
dressed in invention’s favorite mood

with my roadhouse sheet music
written of my life’s inspiration adorned walls, slightly cold
I was lost but playing it off, until
my racing heart reached time future and
said, soul adored believe what’s in store
dose to help you forget and live

Harp in hand, each step how it rings
scammed and scorched
no lying that all this running leads to
hardly breathing
There’s smoke around you
drifting into an image faithful to the vast,
wild west
bravely standing despite the emptiness
as if guided, divinely guided

with my diamond focus on the garden path
of the muse, open, aware
just walking through, even confused, you mean
my images of paradise were drawn in too
permanent as the myths, placards of legends

Beaming with a strange and frightening beauty
from chasing the lights that ascent into the heavens
dreamy, daring, absurdly hoping, all the read claiming
Lord knows, enamored with you, so take these pretty copper arrows
good for aiming up beyond, that remind me, been on my own so long
ashley Apr 2019
we all want a movie ending
those romcoms you see on valentine’s day
that kind of ending
after all, i am a film student

but film has taught me more than the hollywood romance
it has taught me the crushing realities of life
the noir, lesser known tragedies and
the indie, underappreciated art of living

so the days that i wander and think about how we might reunite on a new york city street, coffee in tow and heels on, catching up and suddenly eloping in a whirlwind romance,
i curse hollywood for tainting my imagination
for cursing me with unnecessary pain through setups and disappointments

but then again, film has taught me that i will get my movie ending,
except i am not, and will not be the audience
i am the director, the screenwriter and the editor.
Jade Mar 2019
I had my first kiss at the cinema, the contour of our silhouettes illuminated by the glow of the rolling credits. He tasted like Altoids and cigarettes, an ambivalent concoction of ice and fire. At one point, I'd bitten him by accident. Whether this was a manifestation of inexperience or (seductively, with heat in her eyes) hunger,  I'm not sure. But, sitting there in the thrill of My Something New, I was certain of one thing: this was a red carpet moment, the stuff of silver screens and glimmering Hollywood starlets and rows of type writer ribbon waiting to be transposed into something theatrical.

After the film, we sat outside a cafe a block over, the fever of summer adhering to the back of our necks like (giggling) misplaced hickeys. Smoke corkscrewing from the end of his parliament, he told me how John F. Kennedy was addicted to opioids. I couldn't help but think back to earlier that afternoon when he first admitted to being a smoker. How he'd asked me, "Is this going to be a problem for you?" hesitation rising up his throat like bile.

I smiled because 'Everyone's got their poison," I replied.  

And poison? Well, there's something so strikingly poetic about it, don't you agree?

(beat.)

JFK must have been Marilyn Monroe's poison, I think.

"So," I offered, "What do you really think happened to Marilyn Monroe?"

"How do you mean?" he said between drags of his cigarette.

"I mean was it really an overdose or--"

"Was it an assassination?" he interjected.

"Mhmmm."

Another drag of his cigarette.

"As they say, the simplest answer is often the correct one."

"Maybe. (beat.) But what makes for the better story?"

After two weeks of courtship, he took his leave. My mother's obvious, unwarranted disapproval was, perhaps, a source of anxiety for him. Me being freshly eighteen, he was also concerned about that (sarcastically) whoppin' three year age gap. (beat.) Not fully buying it, are ya?

Well, neither did I.

Here's my theory: his feelings (or lack thereof) were the reason he called it quits. And instead of being a man--instead of being honest, instead of owning up to the true nature of his intentions--he spun some relatively believable excuse. A coward's way of removing himself from a situation he doesn't want to be in. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't as disappointed as I would have anticipated, had I foreseen the end of our fleeting romance.

I was (beat.) fine.

It does make for a great story, after all. (wryly) But you knew that already.

Because for every Norma Jean, there's always a Marilyn Monroe.

Tell me then--who are you?

(beat.)

Girl curtsies, transitioning into a tableau of Marilyn Monroe's iconic pose wherein she attempts to hold down her dress as the air from a nearby subway grate threatens to expose her undergarments.

Lights fade out.

{Fin}
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

jadefbartlett.wixsite.com/tickledpurple

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience.)
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