Supposed Supporters

And yeah sure she’s gorgeous,
amongst the praise of all her supporters,
but at the end of the day what difference does it make,
when most supporters don’t even know why they support her,

what makes you so dang important,
yeah I’m special too but I don’t beg for supporters,
but I suppose in a way neither do you,
which brings us back to the point that’s important,

which is and the end of the day what’re you really supporting?

∆ LaLux ∆

FREE E-Book Available 12/12

Melting under this Plastic World,
Mickey Mouse is a rat that ate the poison,
I feel this wave coming over me,
riding the tide like I'm Poseidon,

totally sick of this circus like Icarus,
flying dangerously close to The Sun,
I'm high in a high rise on syd in Sydney,
like Midas my God what have we done,

it's as if,
everything we touches turns to gold,
invested in,
IOTA last week this week it's up 10 fold,

BitCoin hit 15k,
here we go we're on our way,
bought in out of fear of getting left out,
like a cat in the rain,

feeling like a cannibal animal,
every dog has it's day,
working to the bone like a bog,
& we all want our $ at the end of the day,

when the work’s done,
everyone's gonna wanna get paid,
feeling mixed up in the middle,
half way between a master & a slave,

what a mess we’ve made,
& I’m not blaming any particular one,
I’m just saying collectively,
this feels like the eulogy of,

a civilization that's time has come,
& is almost done,
& yeah we might lose it all,
but at least we had some fun,

& oh what fun we’ve had,
but who'll be left to clean up this mess,
because all the cool kids have gone,
& you're the only one left,

like the morning after the party,
sunrises are never the same as sunsets,
had some fun times last night,
but this morning you're such a wreck,

sometimes only at crunch time do you find,
our failures disguised as accomplishments,

now who’s left behind to pay enough mind,
to clean up our post bliss mess,
not snotty nosed spoiled rotten rich kids,
who got gassed up on daddy’s cash,
they're crashed out at their pad now,
but we both knew they wouldn't last,

passed out on dad's couch,
can always tell the future from the past,

everyone’s,
acting like an ***,
jockeying in position,
for some corporate kick backs,

but if or when you get them,
they come along with a guilty conscience,
then tell me what good is that,
seems all these facts are just nonsense,

I mean really what good is this,
what good are all these words,
I guess these words are only worth,
whatever a words worth is really worth,

which at this point,
feels worth about as much as dirt,
but at least it's that good dirt,
that Mount Agung before it bursts,
that fertile volcanic soil,
that Mother Love from Mother Earth,

sure,

you might think you’ve got it figured out,
or at least you thought you did,
& now you see what’s coming now,
& the mess we’ve made of all this ****t,

the drama we did with no apologies,
no apologies nor compliments,
no honor for the Honor Rollers,
nor for our awkward accomplishments,

and all I want to know,
is where the Hell honest went,
'cause all these dollars & all this power,
at the end of the day amounts to zip,

zero,
no heroes,
& as it turns out,
all of our idols are weirdos,

how's we go,
from Einsteins to Weinsteins,
from talking out our feelings,
to just replying with “I'm fine.”,

from Greek Gods to Mickey Mouse,
from Orwell's Animal Farm to Animal House,
from Mozart's 'Requiem Lacrimosa',
to Baha Men's 'Who Let The Dogs Out',

how'd we get from then,
to where we are now,

& you only want to talk about the weather,
or anything else that doesn't matter,
instead of what's really on your mind,
& how it's all almost over,

talking about what's for lunch,
while the world floods & burns,
not trying to be too negative,
just trying to help you learn,

because I know you think I'm cool,
but really I feel hot as Hell,
is it just me or is it hot in here,
is it just me or does nothing feel real,

like a Barbie girl in a Barbie world,
all dolled up & wrapped in plastic,
like I'm at at Disneyland on acid,
only about an hour & a half in,
& already I'm having a bad trip,
stuck on a boat on a fake mountain,
it's a joke that they call it magic,
trying to slow as everything goes faster,

but I'm not at Disneyland,
I'm just in a high-rise on syd in Sydney,
looking at the man in the mirror like MJ,
thinking I don't know that man who is he?

MMelting under this Plastic World,
Mickey Mouse is a rat that ate the poison,
I feel this wave coming over me,
riding the tide like I'm Poseidon,
totally sick of this circus like Icarus,
flying dangerously close to The Sun,
I'm high in a high rise on syd in Sydney,
like Midas my God what have we done.

∆ LaLux ∆

from The Sydney Sessions
available for FREE worldwide 12/12/17

Chilling but can’t rest,
it’s chilling to know nothing lasts,
living in the most beautiful nightmare,
making peace with the demons in my night terrors,

still trippin’ on the man in the mirror,
lost a bid in an auction for a Michael Jackson self portrait,
made 10 times profit at the same time from BitCoin investment,
best way to describe me is a mix of emotions I guess,

getting texts from Budapest,
my favorite Lover telling me to get some rest,
it’s 5:45pm there and 3:45am here,
I’m in Sydney and she’s in Budapest,

I’m up all alone Down Under,
doing shows putting my emotions in prose,
had a show tonight where I spilled my soul,
right there on stage I’m such a clumsy muse,

but I digress,

still depressed that I’m not more famous,
even though I’m known as one of the most known wordsmiths,
writing my words in verses that are almost perfect,
found a way describe our vibes in a way that’s well worded,

my poems are more known than me,
people know my name but not my face,
been read over a million times,
still only have around a thousand friends,

still few really know me,
even though my words are read by many including you,
which is kinda like,
liking someone for what they are not who they are,
note to one's self,
if you really love someone take the time to get to know them,

was asked what famous is,
answered by saying it’s when,
more people have heard of you than you’ve heard of,
well if that’s the criteria I guess I’m famous then,

and now that I am,
I have to be careful to not let fame become obsession,

or I might go on the same road as Michael,
Michael Jackson,
light my hair on fire then die all alone,
from an overdose of pain killer prescriptions,

yes I guess I’m famous now,
or at least my words are,
because over a million poem have read my poems,
but I’d say I’m more of a planet than a star,

anyways I definitely don’t have a million friends,
only 1300 to be exact if you check my Facebook stats,
1300 real ones that know I’ve got their backs,
and that my friend is a fact,

because “I only accept friend requests,
from people I know in real life.”,
that’s a message you’d get from me,
if you requested to be my friend and don’t actually know me,

anyways where were we?

And why am I write this diatribe?

It’s now 4:00am,
my mind is wandering my words are rambling,
and I need to get some sleep,
because everything’s starting to feel extra strange,

chilling but can’t rest,
it’s chilling to know nothing lasts,
living in the most beautiful nightmare,
making peace with the demons in my night terrors…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

Might Put Out A Surprise Book For The Holidays.
Anyone Know An Artist That Can Design The Cover ASAP?
∆

I still long for you,
no time too long no distance too great,
still out here writing my heart out in these verses,
on these pages as the war rages sounding cliche,

still going to fancy pants dance parties,
although I’m not sure exactly why,
because while everyone’s on the middle of the dance floor,
I’m alone in a comfortable corner writing these lines on the side,

and we both know I try to substitute you,
with all these other girls,
but I told you before for you there’s no substitute,
because these other girls are just “other girls”,

they are not you,
they do not understand our artistic plights,
that’s why when they ask what I’m writing about,
I don’t even want to attempt to try and reply,

but if I do reply when they ask what I’m writing,
as I’m in that comfortable corner writing these lines on the side,
I either abbreviate my emotions by simply stating I’m writing poems,
or if I do go into detail I just tell them a lie,

I tell them,
I’m writing about the world,
when really,
the truth is all I’m writing about is you,

in solitude,
not trying to be rude,
I’d just rather be alone writing these poems,
than be with any other girl other than you,

in a solitary confinement of my own design,
because I locked my heart away and lost the key,
then found that surprisingly you’d found the key,
now you’re the only one that can break my heart free,

because,

I still long for you,
no time too long no distance too great,
still out here writing my heart out in these verses,
on these pages as the war rages sounding cliche,

still going to fancy pants dance parties,
although I’m not sure exactly why,
because while everyone’s on the middle of the dance floor,
I’m alone in a comfortable corner writing these lines on the side…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

Tourists touring temples taking #selfies,
body’s there but souls not,
like Techno Ghosts back from the future,
not here to save the world just here to take a few shots,

but my body is my only temple,
and true enlightenment comes from the absence of Self,
so selfies seem silly to me,
in the same way as trying to wear pants 2 sizes to big without a belt,

or I guess a better analogy would be,
trying to wear a heavy belt without a buckle,
and that thought’s deep better yet heavy,
like Axel Rose those thoughts are heavy metal,

which makes sense especially if you’re an alchemist,
and believe what the Kyballion says about how everything’s metal,

yeah that’s heavy,
heavy as Heavy Metal rock,
being played by the US Army,
in Baghdad with the volume all the way up,

all the while spraying heavy metals,
in order to weigh down moral,
but what does any of this have to do with #selfies you ask,
well listen and I’ll tell you,

narcissist egos created this mess,
force used to push an agenda,
because when we’re too focused on our “selfs”,
we lose sight of the big picture,

like taking #selfies at temples,
and not seeing the beauty around you,
like drowning out the sounds of nature,
with the playlist on your iTunes,

it’s all kinda ironic isn’t it,
it’s tough having morals when complicit in any empire,
so I try and escape to exotic landscapes,
like Malagasy rainforests or Tibetan Temples,

but when I get there I find,
to my disappointing surprise,
a bunch of tourists on their phones,
only remotely living their lives…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆