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Aaron Mullin Sep 2014
First we account:
8 days per ...

12 hours a day
52 weeks a year
2 years
~10,000 hours = ~10,000 maniacs

Then we re-count:
On a stage in Hamburg, we perfect our Kraftwerks
Was where the NitrogenFixers teeth were cut
And Gladwell summarizes that perfection comes from continually piling small tasks upon each other
One after another
Creating a mountain of perfection

For the Nitrogen Fixers ...
Their pebbles came in +/- 3 minute soundbytes
Their mountains were named:
Abbey Road and White Album, among others

Then we implore:
Go find your Hamburg, I implore you
What about Blink?
What about Raven?

Then we explore:
A fractal inside of a labrynth wrapped up inside a piece of capicoli:

What did Lucy say about diamonds?

From Incarnate
by Juleta Severson-Baker
Raven Song*

"Though it is wrong
this will be my call to you
full throat
wings like a shell

I will pull you
through forbidden air to me
by this call

come to me
through the wrong and dark
I have sung my part
now come*"
Written with work boots on

Broadcast from The One
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
Love is love,
it’s not that complicated,
Love does not care what color or *** you or your love is,
because Love is all inclusive it doesn’t discriminate,

Love is colorblind,
Love Sees No Color Love wears Cross Colours jumpers,
Love is abundant, just ask Russell Simmons or Gloria Carter,
or her baby Jay Z or anyone else who is an authentic Lover,

Love is unconditional & it’s available to everyone,
regardless of class social status religion region or color,

it’s okay to feel good, smile you deserve it,
dedicate yourself to love, believe me it’s worth it,

you get what you give so give 100%,

remember to forget & forgive them, even if they’re not perfect,
because no person walking this earth’s surface is,
but you can still find yourself a good girlfriend or boyfriend,
as long as you’re willing to work with them,
& you two can still be your own version of Bonnie & Clyde,
can still be in love & serve them with services,

there’s wisdom in these verses here,
modern day scriptures for gangstas & hipsters,
they don’t call him LaLux or J-Hova for nothing,
no fronting true strength requires no crutches or addictions,

just enough Dedication as Lil Wayne to get to 10,000 hours,
as laid out well by Macklemore or Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers,

a Master of Self a ******* from Hell,
***** as hell but he cleans up well
I own all my Master,
you should probably own yours as well,

well,
the floods are coming, there’s some prophecy for you,
either ride the Tidal wave or get washed straight away,
washing the straight leg green jeans clean so there’s no proof,

only proof is us see our success & ourselves are Self Evident,
only witness God won’t testify against our business interest,
the evidence is obvious see we are all sovereign entities,
you are your own country so you are your own president,
a one person army a one person president,
who roams the whole globe everywhere’s their residence,
channelling these visions into verses of the present tense,
told you before I’m not a business man I’m a business, man...

Smile is continued in THHT3...

∆ LaLux ∆

an excerpt from poem #24 of
THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available on Amazon here:
www.amazon.com/dp/1950780023

If you've read this far I'd like to show my appreciation by buying you a copy of THHT3 from Amazon myself, seriously, for free. Just send me a Message here or on IG @aaronlaux
the dirty poet  Sep 2018
TWEE
the dirty poet Sep 2018
man it’s twee heaven
i’m in a coffee shop reading malcolm gladwell
trying to ignore the hippie barista
and a sensitive young patron
as they compare their hard life and times
a dude comes in, a famous mess
barefoot, pajama bottoms and drunker than a tavern
"can i have a free french cappuccino?"
the barista says yes and while she makes it
he leans into my space making comments
he’s way too smashed to deliver with any trace of pinache
"here’s…  this guy…"
she gives him his coffee
"oh man… it’s not french…"
he staggers out of the place, cup in hand
the kid customer asks if he comes in a lot
"he’s been in here a few times," says the barista
"the guy ever wear shoes?" i ask
"i don’t judge," she says, lip ring quivering
no judging from her, except for me--
constructing a gallows and sentencing me to hang
for being old, male and normal
well she’s got me there
in the corn fields of brain-damage troubled Sigmund Freud as he had his twelfth oral cancer tumor ablation on top of the Empire State Building before Stephen G. Cleveland married his "easy squeeze" child-bride. "I hate you more than God hates the Easter Bunny," Jessica Walter groaned under the weight of Clint Eastwood's failed touchy-feely battle tactics.

— The End —