T-E-C-H-N-O-C-O-L-O-R-D-R-E-A-M-S-C-A-P-E

These days,
it’s all a Pre-Made Catch Phrase,
spending time like it’s money,
but don’t worry honey it’s all Pre-Paid,
can't ignore it pay it forward,
no room to breath fumigating I need space,
in the fast lane speeding,
all gimmicks no limits on the freeway,

thought you were forward thinking,
but you’ve got it all backwards,
we pay taxes to pay more taxes,
& that hurts like bad actors,

& I wrote this both as a protest,
as well as a a admission of submission,
because I can't help but to notice,
most of those that need help don't get it,

as I spy street cleaners from my highrise,
go through these means streets to pick up,
but street sweepers aren't enough,
not even heat seekers'll fix this mess up,
as things get meaner on the cold streets,
I'm still thinking things might nicen up,

& no street sweeper is mean enough,
to sweep this riff raft up,
no sir leave that to the mean Reaper,
what dreams are made of this's that stuff,

putting it all out there but,
no one cares because,
I’m not famous enough,
everyone out of luck acting tough,
& I used to give a hand & a ****,
but now I don't because I've had enough,

see I can write the most profound lines, humankind has ever paid mind to,
at least in modern day times,
yeah I can write those lines times two,

but really what’s the use,
of speaking the truth,
to these Consumerist Troops,
if they're all deaf dumb & mute,

tone deaf,
from the volume all the way up,
as they sit on their butts,
eyes glued to the tube too stuck,

& just to clear things up,

it’s Consumerism,
that's got us totally *******,
not Communism,
I think you’re honestly confused,

& if you’re confused,
let me spell it out for you,

T-E-C-H-N-O-C-O-L-O-R-D-R-E-A-M-S-C-A-P-E,

that’s TechnoColorDreamScape,
AKA Reality TV,
that's living waking life,
in a dream state apogee,

& you’re the star,
& the jokes on you,
hardy har har,
& boo hoo hoo,

where’s all the honey gone Honey-Boo-Boo?

The bees left their colonies,
no pollen trees just insecticides,
no apologies for disrespecting,
these policies that allow us all to die,

but I’m not going out anonymous,
not at all I’m leaving behind this legacy,
so let it be known through prose and poem, that we left here with some dignity,

words used to mean something,
feelings used to matter,
emotions used to exist and hold weight,
mornings were only memories of laughter,
what’s become of the Good ‘Ol Days,
& what will be coming after,

these days,
everyone is caught in a catch phrase,
like a dolphin in a fishnet,
or a beach town in a sea wave,
or a Sinner in the Rapture,
or a deer on the freeway,
or a soldier in uniform,
during Operation Overlord on D-Day.

These days,
it’s all a Pre-Made Catch Phrase,
spending time like it’s money,
but don’t worry honey it’s all Pre-Paid,
can't ignore it pay it forward,
no room to breath fumigating I need space,
in the fast lane speeding,
all gimmicks no limits on the freeway.

∆ LaLux ∆

from The Sydney Sessions, the 8th book by multi-bestselling international author Aaron Lux, available FREE worldwide here:
www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps

It is a bedbug.
It bites, not bids.
less or more, it bites.
On the train or in a car,
on a chair or a desk.
In the house or on a farm
In Africa, we were friends.
In Europe, we were strange.
In Africa, there is conflict.
In Europe, there is bedbug.
So if Africa needs conflicticides,
and Europe needs insecticides.