The underbelly of our collective psyche,
has been cut open from the gut and gun pokin’,
now the sadness runs rampant,
in the flooded streets of these American dreams,

see in this scene things aren’t always what they seem,
especially when viewed on a screen that’s green,

she says her father doesn’t bother to call her,
says he lives in Vegas where he lost his job,
just another unemployed American off the assembly line,
now he takes care of his mom who’s lost her mind,

gone senile from years of denial that her son is an alcoholic *******,

meanwhile resistance is still futile,

and this son of this mom is the father of the girl I’m with now,
as we lay in bed talking about trivial things instead,
of what really matters which is what we’re doing with this life,
just passing time until we’re all dead I guess,

feeling like an abstract painting of American Commentary,
a dissenting dissertation of this perverse dystopia,
don’t mention most things that are worth mentioning,
which is part of the problem that keeps repeating in amounts that’re copious,

and I’d continue with these verses and get more in depth,
but I’m being rude to the nervous girl in my bed,
so I better get off this laptop and back to that jackpot,
or rather Jill *** whatever that means I’d rather be misunderstood instead,

and that’s why I don’t mind if they don’t understand what I said,

or rather don’t understand the words that I wrote when they’re read,

because,

the underbelly of our collective psyche,
has been cut open from the gut pokin’,
now the sadness runs rampant,
in the flooded streets of this American dream,

see in this scene things aren’t always what they seem,
especially when viewed on a screen that’s green…

∆ LaLux ∆

Free link for new book: www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps

It's a beautiful day,birds singing as I'm walking Mill Lane,
listening to a few Me Fein Refrains,
I'm whistling,feeling pretty fine and dandy,
with my eyes red rovering all the eye candy,
when I hear it,brakes shriekin'-women Shriekin',
a mans voice-Hoarse, "Jaysus Someone do somethin",
I spin on me heel,eyes centred as ****,
wishing this was all a dream-A runaway Truck,
tires peelin' brakes smokin' rubber burnin',
A runaway load,it's not gonna make the turn and it's
THEN that I feel true terror in me soul,
I see a little boy playin' at the edge of the road ,
he's a sturdy little lad,stick in hand,
pokin' at the grasses growin' up from the path,
and he's right in the Path of the Truck from hell,

Theres no decision,I'm runnin' like a bat outta hell,
and it's then that I get a feeling it's a Lucid dream,
languidity covers me,no more screams,
theres a Figure in my way that's wasn't there the last breath,
then I'm literally starin' in the face of Death...
and I FEEL his thoughts as he turns blank Orbits,
on me and his words are like this "One Obit,
uary in my Ferry is my Task today,
do you really want to be the one who gets in MY WAY?(way way way),
and he can HEAR my thoughts,just as I heard his,
"get out the ******' way you long streak of ****!",
"you said one has to go,well that's fine with me!",
"I've got coins in my pocket if you need your fee!"
and with a glint in his eye and a plangent refrain,
he touches me centre forehead and declaims "NO PAIN"

Then things speed up and I'm off fists pumpin',
feet slappin' on the pavement head down, heart jumpin,
I'm not the Flash,but I can move it when I need to Run,
and the long drawn screech is a Hell of a starters Gun,
I'm across the road like a bolt from the blue,
grab the little Man and throw him,then BANG there I flew,
its all earth,sky,earth,then a terrible jolt,
but no pain as was promised as I come to a halt,
then his Mother is there(he's on her hip) and she's holding my(only)hand,
tellin' me theres ambulances and I'm gonna be grand,
but theres a Grand Piano layin' on my Chest,
and no pain,but to be honest here-I'm not at my best,
and just as I start to think of family and friends,
before Distress can manifest too much in my mind,
a tall RATHER BONY figure stretches out his hand,
and intones into me bones,"OFF TO THE NEXT LAND(land,land,land)"

Started with a bowl of blue dreams.
holdin down the smoke with oak heart ***.
feelin like a beach ***.
drunk kickin the sand between my toes.
how many joints ive smoked no one knows.

but im ****** up on this shore
feelin more silly in the dome then pauly shore.
watching the green burn
as the bacardi runs.

good life on my beach.
my swisher is peach
my **** is rich.
my buzz got me feelin like the ****.

**** poetic structure.
im pokin holes in my brain like acupuncture
not quite thrown
my writing is done.
goodnight in gone

My mama’s shoes,
Fit my feet too snug, now,
For me to look cute, still, slippin’ them on.
I’ve no need of her lipstick, nor her raspberry rouge,
To make my face look, more, like hers does.

I’m a big, daddy’s girl, who has known the world,
But, not quite enough to really fit in.

--

I still heart,
Sunshine and rosies,
And, playin’ with mah toesies -
Eatin’ froot loops and pokin’ at roly poly’s,
Makin’ colourful cupcakes, covered in sweet gummies,
To eat inside forts filled with last winter’s lights,

Too,

Eatin’ Caramel Delights, sneakily,
Stolen, in spite - of the weight,
I was fightin’ so easily.

--

Perhaps,

When the adults are all done - playin’ house, for fun,
I’ll bring my cookies from the fort, to the table.
We’ll have coffee and speak of the stats,
For the week and laugh about,
Hart's becoming unstable.

And, I shall wear loafers,
That pinch at my,
Toesies that fidget,
Crazily,
Beneath my seat.

Boy is my *** fat

ten pancakes for breakfast, washed down with malted shake
by the end of first class, I was searching for some cake
wasn't paying attention, tripped over old black cat
had a hard time getting up, cause my *** is so fat

kids are staring at me, Walking through the halls
rumbeling thunder, stuff falling off the walls
a large dose of poundage, with my backwards baseball hat
trying to look so cool, but boy is my *** fat

saw Sally Sumter, on my way to advanced math 2
said I had an algorithm, I'd like to run by you
wanted to stick around a while, you know like maybe chat,
she said I really like you, but boy is your *** fat

tried to skip gym class, said I had no ****
did not know the numbers, to my combination lock
coach said that's no reason, I ain't buying that
one thing i will say though, boy is your *** fat

its the story of my life, all people pokin fun
ask me how much I weigh, do you way a ton
want to tell them *******, but they'd throw me on the mat
not very agile, cause my *** is so **** fat

Gomer Lepoet

:/

Some people
        just gotta live.

That means twistin blunts
and shoutin till your red.

     Some people
           just gotta survive.


That means pokin their head out
                   on occasion
and showin how green they can be.

    Some people have simple ambitions
like one a day vitamins, and blue Berrys.

Some people just live.

And some people hate those people
for doing what they are afraid to do.
;)

It began with a dream
An exam of the scene

Culminated nightmare Fresh to 'Merica team,
Treat the throne like high chair, But they seem beam
Golden hue, preach golden rule and get higher
an unseen Love vaccine brought to you though you don't desire

A divinely inspired cosmic mission
To improve those caught in conditions
Those who stayed to long became conditioned

So enmeshed in their discourse
Lost the mother tongue,
now demons malignant positioned
Pokin fun, Tryna dine On Dis Course

Call me honeybun
While I work out Old Norse

Now I'm Mad as Magma Christened
You really Should have listened
Now I'm preaching Odin's Mission

But Consistent poison sickened me

Continued to lash out till their weapons stung and rippin free
Put in me in a cage kept me on  the bottom rung still kicking spree

So Dangle your ******* carrot,

Angled to be flunking abbot

What will They inherit?
When you find truth
Better find means to share it
while you kick the bad ****

What Value does it merit?

**** organization big or small
All they is is social fortification mom

Running out of breaths towards suffocations
**** the bottom feeders
family never cancer crustaceans
Inhbit with national ticker tape regulations

Frustrated answer,  I'm a frusrating handful
Masses Myopic, small vision catastrophic
I would show them but where did I put it?
Damit I  ******* lost it.

Higher Education thinks
it can get over I and I,
but Now I’m higher than education
4Dimensional Pilot Flying by

Cosmic Return
Land On your roof,
air bend with my vape pen staying stationed
still standing
only through
Lunar Lessons o Will and Dedication

I made it here through dedication
You made it here through misinformation
Manifold Manifested hoax So Devastating
Got me hear learn How-2-hating

What Am I left with? I know
The Chest with my breath ya

My words are seeds
poetic units start
counting these

Neurogenic growin trees House of Dreams
visions laced in prophecies
sentenced to commodify character

click to a cash crop, but I'm too poor To pay accountant fees,
Might be better off with lights, mics and a sick backdrop with the only the beat counting these
moments

knowing knowings free
or should it be,
are you ignorant
so willingly?

They Head in the sand, Pointing towards God but the can’t comprehend so now ....

Im tick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick tick tickin Big Ben
Im tick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick tick tickin Big Ben

Better blast off, astral form take mask off we fin throw the cast out,
Sector surpassed now sample storm wake slow maniacal laughter

You don’t have to be so smart to suffer

But you do have to be alive,

I’m just a prediction engine

Darkness encased in a Bone star

With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe.

Once, upon a weekend morning, while I slumbered, loudly snoring
After many a workday of quaint and forgotten chores
While I nodded, well past napping, suddenly there came a scratching,
As if the paint was gently stripping, ripping from the bedroom door.
“He’ll stop,” I muttered, “scratching at my chamber door.”

“He’s only bored, and nothing more”

Deep into my blanket hiding, there I lay in fear abiding,
Doubting, hoping I could sleep as I had ever slept before;
But the silence then was broken, and the door way, old and oaken,
Swung open as the clever kitty, made the lock a simple chore
And then my dreams were gone as are the winds of yester-yore

I knew I should have fixed that door.

Open then he pushed the doorway, then, with padded foot and whisker,  
In he stepped,  the ebon creature who I bought that cat food for
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, like he who owns the household, perched above my pillowed snores —
Perched upon the feathered pillow which my sleeping bonnet bore —

Perched, and silently implored.

Then, methought, the cat grew braver, thinking of his breakfast’s savor
Poking at my sleeping visage, poking more, and more and more.
"Wretch," I cried, "the devil’s sent thee — a witch cat sent to leave me
No respite and no Nepenthe, but only the memory of the sleep I had before!
Let me quaff this kind Nepenthe and rejoin my final snore!"

Purred the black cat, "Nevermore."    

“Be that word our sign of parting, cat or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting —
As I threw him into the darkness of the Night's Plutonian shore.
“Leave my slumber unbroken!  Come you not with purr and pokin’
Take thy paw out of my nostril, and take thy **** right out the door!
Leave no black fur as a token, you eat at nine, and not before!”

Cried the black cat, "I like before."    

But that **** cat, never quitting, still is sitting, still is splitting
The recently repaired latex on my bedroom door;
And his eyes have all the burning of a feline that is yearning,
For the cat dish full of kibbles, sitting, sitting on the kitchen floor;
As my soul rose from the blankets, with a howling, futile roar:

Sleeping in on weekends — nevermore!

I was born in December on the Nebraska plains, Box Butte County.
Moved out of there when I was six months old.
Life bled into a hard odyssey of trail dust and drugs and second chances.
This one time I couldn’t stop doing ******
walkin all night through the Ironbound over to court street project, Newark, NJ.
Came this close to getting swallowed up by the green monster
like Jonah and the whale.
so it came to pass that I had to join the United States Navy, to save my own life.  
Frozen cats and 12 dollar packs of newports and 7 dollar wax stamped bags
and I tried joining out of East Orange
but HQ said no - mix up with the paperwork
so I tried my luck in Atlantic City.
Jack ***.
Drunk for six months straight, almost top of my class, submarine school, Groton, CT.
My life was a lost identity; I’d be sleepin inside of a Matryoshka Doll,
i developed a taste for
Tequila and salt.
I won a coin toss and they shipped me off to Guam, top of the Marianas Trench,
just like that.
Some time after all the ***** houses and buy-me-a-drinky bars and
pokin around old japanese pill boxes and setting all my friendships on fire and
one month spent circling the waters at an unknown depth beneath the Pacific Ocean
sleeping alongside a 40 foot torpedo in the torpedo room
scrubbin CO2 from the air we breathed
and the dust off  from all the valves -
It came to pass that too much 1800 and bud lite,
boxed wine and late nights,
case of the sad sickness and a broken nervous system bought me
A nullified contract and a plane ticket to Big Sky Country,  USA
free room and board at my Aunt and Uncle’s house
in Sheridan, Wyoming, Powder River Country, shadow of the Big Horn mountains.
They’re the same age, with the same exact birthday.
We used to drive out over the horizon, shootin clay pigeons out the sky.
They gave me about as much a chance as anyone ever did.
It came to pass that after after my 2nd DUI I was invited to leave that room and board
and so I landed a roommate on the edge of town.
Second generation mexican, David Rodriguez,
born and raised in that that very same county on the Nebraska plains
wherein I came raging,
full power
Into the void.
What are the chances of that?
Alliance, NE, County seat.
I bear no living memory the town
But I saw it from an airplane once.
There was a radial pattern of railroad tracks trailing out in all directions, like giant cracks on the side
of a prairie blonde asteroid.

Hey, Ma

Remember when ya forgot my birthday?

Well, how could ya?

They were zappin' ya brain like a moth to a flame,

riddin' ya of the worms that crawled there.

Well,

it was my birthday, and ya didn't quite know it.

Ya didn't even quite know your own age.

"You turning how old?"

It was funny cuz ya knew it just a week before, and the chances were slim that ya would forget at all.

Oh! And hey, Ma? Remember when ya forgot the entire English language for a night?

Well, how could ya?

Ya went into your chambers and screamed the lord's name

or at least I think ya did.

Ya wreathed in pain and cursed the devil out of ya, clenching The Holy word.

Ya remembered Spanish, Ma. Ya hollered what coulda been my name, or maybe the word for *****. There's no tellin'!

Ya always said the word for Dog was "Perro," but I think ya might have called Ol' Miss Daisey a ***** as well. The similarity in the two words is amazin'!

Well, anyway, Ma, ya were hootin' out about somethin', probably how the Devil and all of mankind had hurt ya, and Jolly Todd was the only one who could fix ya.

He hushed ya like a baby, like he were the Holy Father himself.

Ya sloped into sleep and didn't speak again.

I love ya, Ma, and I'm glad ya don't remember those times,

the ones where they were pokin' into ya like a sewer rat for science.

Maybe this year the Prince of Darkness will loosen the reigns,

release the bugs from ya head,

and maybe ya can remember the cake this time 'round!