In real life you discover things in the oddest places
Perhaps you are sitting at a bar sipping a beer
Waiting
And you share a look with someone
A sudden thought is stirred
You're life clicks, the constant problems you've been calculating
Finally equate
And the world for a moment
Makes complete sense

It's the strangest feeling
Like a surge or a breath
God has taken his lips to yours and given you something to believe in

Tomorrow looks brighter on days like this
And the world makes sense

And they dreamed about a girl
Who was dancing out in space,
With the stars as companions
And the moon as a friend

And the stars said to her
"you are such a pretty girl"
And the moon whispered to her
"you are such a strange girl"

And they danced all night long,
And they laughed till dawn,
And when the time finally came
The girl didn't want to go home

She said to them, with a silent voice
"you're my only friends, please don't let me go"
And the moon said to her with a smile on her face
"don't be afraid, we are always going to stay"

And so the girl returns to her reality world,
Where she wasn't part of all that noise.
But she kept a little secret that always made her smile,
She knew that her heart belongs way up in the sky.

.Wendy.

The Japanese have a saying,
we show one face to the world,
one face to our family and closest of friends,
and one face,
to no one but ourselves.

I am lying to you.
I am not who I say I am.
While I am not completely insane,
and I am not a criminal,
I am not as perfect as you see me.

Maybe we're all,
a little insane,
and a little criminal.

But none the less,
we're all normal.

the shakes own my body they make it harder to type so i peck at my keyboard like a ******* animal and i keep smashing the power button every time i hit the backspace and i'm afraid the whole godforsaken thing will turn off. macs arent bad though. i might be okay.

wow this whole ******* thing just went to ****? can i even say that? i'll be ******* honest with you (aside from the avant-garde scene and the nihilistic WOKE poetry ensemble) i really don't know if i can say that or not? i mean when was PC invented? like 2008? *******. that was ten years ago gimme a break.

jesus man the shakes are horrible tonight. they're so bad im really just relying on autocorrect to do everything for me but sometimes it misses and so do i. i could use diction on the mac but then they would have my voice and once apple took o ver the world id just become one of their drones or something.

i know why too. maybe the "substances" im constantly ingesting. (oooh "substances" s cary word ayh right. you're an idiot.)

or maybe its the lack of creativity and originality in everything i see and hear and do? maybe not.

(taking a break to ____________).

all the bugs and trees are talking to me and you know what in not eve n gonna bother with typing at this point so if are still here then good for you,

.... six, no wait, make that, 12 bottles of wine. and some whiskey. and some champagne. and a jug of sangria. and...

it's **:05 as I write this. so if you're awake and reading this then either you're a night-owl or you live somewhere thats not here or there.

i m really truing to see; the shakes off and I think in doing pretty well so i have to just keep it up. right?

im going to shrink down and sleep with my succulent. tomorrow will be where hell is waiting.

******* come in early. 2-3 AM. i always wake up right about then.+

Among the meadows, beside the church there lives a solitary soul,
his name is Arthur, who, like his father, possesses a heart of gold.

'To my dearest' he writes, 'to the one I love, the one I cannot have',
'the children cackle and point their fingers, the women are calling me mad.'

Arthur had wronged not a single one, he is a man both good and kind.
Yet he is highly eccentric and feared by some and, to his goodness, they are blind.

His only sin is the imperishable love he shares for his Rosalin,
she lives, like him, amongst the meadows and around the church, aside him.

'Conserved and peaceful' he describes, 'you truly are a woman in disguise'.
'the epitome of beauty' he says to her. 'My love is constant, it never errs'.

She, however, is a peculiar one. Her house is slender, wooden and black.
About her home there are painted signs, 'Witch' they say 'Don't turn your back'.

She dresses delightfully, with her hat and gloves, she adores her blue draped dress.
'Though that is strange', he writes again, 'as you do not seek to impress'.

'The ringlets and coils within your hair that sit above that buttoned nose,
each day I run my fingers through them, each day my love will grow.'

'The shards beneath my nails' he writes 'and scars upon my feet',
'The earth within my soles' he says, 'are painless when we finally greet'.

Her life is monotonous, continuous and dead, she hardly lives at all.
Yet each and every passing day Arthur is at her door.


Dara

one simple sting on the tongue liver shocks and
drop by drop you
lie through your teeth.

six Septembers and nine days to the mark I

was gone like a cat hiding in the drains.

                                  look at me. I am yellow with anticipation.

     corrode dates and twist memories like rags and red soak

                             sick and perforated you proliferate and the

cycle continues..

The internet’s not going to save you,
not sure why you keep thinking it will,
logging on Googling “Redemption”,
action’s only possible if the thinking is real,

yes we’re in The Matrix,
no I don’t care how you take it,
why am I only paying attention,
when both of us are naked,

everything’s so boring,
and most of it’s unrelated,
I’m not sure if she’s sure if she likes me,
we’re not sure what time and space is,

all we know is,
one simple equation,
there’s too little time,
and too much spacing,

to close on time,
yet too far apart,
I’m looking at you,
you’re looking at the clock,

but actually,
that’s a half true,
or as they would say,
that is Fake News,

because actually I’m as distracted as you,
logging on and Googling “Truest Truths”,
hoping maybe before I log of I can save me,
even though we both know the the truth,
the internet isn’t going to save me,
and it’s sure as heck not going to save you,

but what else is there to day,
it’s Saturday night I’m alone in LA,
almost feels like things were meant to be this way,
I see her so clear even when her image begins to fade,

which I suppose is appropriate,
in the City of Angels,
like seeing wings on a being,
but just at the right moment and angel,

Corporate Patriotism,
www.abannerstarspangled,
don’t forget the dot com,
we’re all the same equation just different angles,

feeling like God,
or at least Hermes with wings on His ankles,
or souls on his feet or Achilles with all His feats,
a Warrior for Love with a weakness at the ankles,

don’t hold me back I need to fly,
into the sunset a bet less romantic than Icarus or Sure,
because it seems at the end of the day,
Heaven is Both ocean and fire,

now before we go please one last quote,
and that’s don’t let yourself be chained to desire,
even though if I said that I also wasn’t ******,
and chained to desires as well well I’d be a liar,

and we don’t need lies,
what we need is truth,
and the truth is the internet,
isn’t going to save you,

the internet’s not going to save you,
not sure why you keep thinking it will,
logging on Googling “Redemption”,
action’s only possible if the thinking is real…

∆ LaLux ∆

Free Book Available Here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps

Spent all day.
looking for the perfect
thing to say.
but I guess these words,
will have to do.

None the less,
if a heart can ever
speak in jest;
This joke is for you.

It's all I need do.
Gather all the words
I could say.
They're less than perfect,
but so's any day.

Sum of the less,
if a mouth can ever
hide in jest;
a punchline for you.