Never fall in love,
With a writer,
For a writer will grab your hand and whisper run,
As she pulls you,
Swirling twirling,
Through a world of imagination,
Never fall in love,
With a writer,
For she will drag you on adventures,
That you never wanted in the first place,
And all you could possibly say,
Is “as you wish”
So never fall in love with a writer,
But if you do,
Always tell her that you love her you’ll regret it if you don’t,
Never fall in love,
With a writer.

Slam dunk crash
Loud sound, a thunder dome
Intense clapping; it's time
Michael Jordan, save us.

Janus, my ****
In my pants oopsies
Micheal Jordan, slams and dunks.

Making memories,
wondering who sent for me,
if it wasn’t you then who was it,
and if you didn’t why are you here anyways,

have man have machine,
have real life have dream,
were you born or were you made,
there isn’t a difference or so it would seem,

you don’t believe,
because you’ve never seen a miracle,
that’s why you **** for a fee,
and why you’re always so cynical,

and maybe that’s why I write,
more than I do anything else,
as a way of trying to jog your memory,
while running up the bill,

at the bar trying to wash away,
things I can’t recall,
in this present day dystopia,
call me Jack I’ll call you Jill,

getting drowsy,
must be the pills,
on a plane,
going somewhere else,

travel some much,
sometimes i wake up and don’t know what country I’m in,
it’s a dog eat dog world so cat naps can be dangerous,
especially when you drink and drink sleep walking on Ambien,

a creature with amnesia and beautiful features,
how’d you become such a miracle,
are you really that perfect,
or is that just the way I remember you,

guess it doesn’t matter either way,
because maybe I don’t even remember you,
maybe you’re not mine because maybe you never were,
maybe nothing is mine not even the memories I have of you,

maybe it’s all just programmed,
by a woman behind a glass wall,
maybe in the end we have the same thing we had in the beginning,
which is absolutely nothing at all,

making memories,
wondering who sent for me,
if it wasn’t you then who was it,
and if you didn’t why are you here anyways…

∆ LaLux ∆

Disney may have bitten off more than they can chew.
They call certain fans nasty names, that's a bad thing to do.
Because they call certain fans nasty names, fans may not watch their movies anymore.
Disney has crossed the line and they're certainly not people who I adore.
It's the fans who make them and it's the fans who can break them.
When it comes to Disney, I have decided to forsake them.
Just because certain people disliked The Last Jedi, they have no right to call us racist and sexist.
I'm taking a stand by boycotting them and as far as I'm concerned, they will not be missed.
They have insulted me and they've insulted other fans too.
Disney may have bitten off more than they can chew.

I won't watch anymore Disney movies because I don't like how Disney treats their fans.
They call us racist and sexist and I've had all that I can stand.
They call certain fans racist and sexist because we disliked The Last Jedi.
When it comes to losing fans, they have lost me, myself and I.
They call certain fans nasty names and I've had enough.
When I say that I'm through with Disney, it's no bluff.
Disney loves to blame their fans but they refuse to accept any blame.
Disney may lose a ton of fans if they keep calling us nasty names.

The human suffering is my life's project
How could I ever turn my back on it

All the images of loss I had painted
On my own cold concrete Berlin wall
Paintbrush dipped into a catalog color
"Dark ocean of despair"
Smearing it cautiously on the rough surface
Protecting the still innocent from the ricochets

Oh the number of books that I had written
About another restless soul stuck in limbo
Circling the globe on a boat called "Oblivion"
I shoot them into my not so public library in the sky
Riding on the back of a spark flying from my sympathetic heart
Only to allow their sad glow to forever illuminate the top of my head

An archive of movies stored in a chamber of my heart
Categorized into natural human disasters
All written and directed by me
Starring every soul that ever exposed itself to mine
On a hot sticky night with a glass of wine
In a dusty desert wearing dark green uniform
On the grassy banks of a beautiful European canal
Their silent cries for help are the soundtrack of my life
The shot of an unfallen tear I could never cut out

The pain of a life lived internally,
A bag of beautiful intentions bursting at the seams
Are the substance of the blanket I cover myself with
When I try to fall asleep
Who would I be without it?

Was told we’re not supposed to call it The 3rd World anymore,
that the politically correct term is “Developing World”,
It’s not 1st and 2nd World,
it’s Developed and Developing world,

I thought,
what difference does it make,
the same disparities still exist,
regardless of if the names change the problems remain,

we’re quick to look down on a 3rd world mob boss,
because he executes a few troops to make a statement to say,
but who are we to judge if you ask me all humans are fckt up,
and at the end of the day nothing really matters anyways,

we’re all Lethargic Aggressively Passive Agitators,
we’d all rather get lost in an Instagram Timeline,
than get found in our Real Life Timeline,
where the Beast of Burden are disgusted as Beauties that are benign,

anyways whatever where am I I’m flying through the sky on an Air New Zealand flight,
watching a documentary about Spielberg,
his phenomenal rise in the film industry,
and how some critics pointed to his rise as the demise real cinematographic art,

but critics are critics and that’s just it,
they get paid to criticize,
when in fact most of us artists types would argue,
that everything is art every scene on screen and in real life,

only difference is with real life it feels like there’s no break time,
that everyone’s forgot their lines & there’s no script,
the camera is always rolling the director never yells cut,
and even when you get frustrated you can’t walk of the set and call it quits,

what the heck is this,
what kind of sick joke is someone playing,
I mean don’t get me wrong I’ve got a great life,
I’m not complaining at all I’m just saying,

this mind of ours has some dark places,
everyone scared of sacred water because of Jaws,
it sparked a fear that lead to the slaughter,
of the majestic prehistoric fish known as the shark,

and that’s just the tip of the iceberg with Spielberg,
think how many other ways he altered all our perceptions,
think about his films about aliens,
think about her portrayals of various villains,

either that or don’t think about it at all,
just turn on a screen and watch a show,
and try to seize the moments,
because most of us don’t realize the movie’s over until the credits begin to roll,

oh,
here we go,
another poem about nothing that we find important,
like life and disparities and re-programming of soul,

but what does it matter anyways,
if life is but a dream and we are lost at sea on a boat,
I mean we’re all gonna die at least in the physical sense,
and I don’t know if that’s true but that’s what I’ve been told,

then again I’ve been told a lot of things,
got me thinking that someone isn’t necessarily wise just because they’re old,
so I take all food for my soul with a grain of salt,
because something isn’t true just because it was told,

Was told we’re not supposed to call it The 3rd World anymore,
that the politically correct term is “Developing World”,
It’s not 1st and 2nd World,
it’s Developed and Developing world…

∆ LaLux ∆