I am 2 persons in one body
I pray to God and I hate the church
I love myself and I hate my neighbor
I pray for the sick and I **** with my tongue

I am 2 persons in one body
I am a Christian and secret sin is my hobby
I work in the church and refuse duties at home
I respect the pastor and despise my parents

I am 2 persons in one body
different personalities I portray
you can summon the one you want
whenever you need it. Hot or Cold.
I am 2 in 1.
Rejibudu

Can you see me?
K’mqcdllwsvp
Meaa’rrialijUx
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ijaflcglenzzkFe
nrvX­lwtiacoeF
yjytiTfaqwcug
gavmnxarJeyna
yZsmvargHrjd
Cthrfirknt

How much is too much,
doing those Emily Dickinson numbers,
almost to #2100,
doing with words what was previously unheard of,

the Andy Warhol of pop poetry,

will continue until even the Atheist Haters believe in me,
I mean if they ever again believe in anything,

&,
I’m on track,
to not look back,
all I’ve gotta do to be great is not die,
or do something stupid and get locked up,
like lose my cool & Triangle Choke out a fool,
just for acting rude,
doest that mean I have a bad attitude,
I don’t know that’s why i’m asking you,

used to have nothing to lose,
now I’ve got nothing to prove,
Game of Life you decide,
pay the price roll the dice win or lose make your move,

I made mine,
by choosing to write these lines,
created my own style & gave it a title,
end every piece where it begins
so the thought’s are complete & the piece comes full circle,
add a few pop culture references & call it Pop Poetry,

& no one known is excluded,
I include more than a few references to saying & names,
my work is an encyclopedia of idioms,
it’s our entire collective Contemporary History literally explained,

& artistically rearranged to keep their attention & entertain,

& I’l write until I write every last thought right outta my brain,

how much is too much,
doing those Emily Dickinson numbers,
almost to #2100,
doing with words what was previously unheard of,

the Andy Warhol of pop poetry…

∆ LaLux ∆

Cali, Colombia

July 2018

Music in one ear,
Chatter in the other.

An endless stream of thoughts in the other,
A restless mind in the other.

Smother'd by the descending fogs of doubt,
Another moment,
Another fake smile.

I will laugh with you,
as I hide inside.

Otherwise,
under covers,
Today is,
Just like any other.

~Robert van Lingen

Songs of Oregon: No. 1 “Gonna Make You Crazy, That Place”

nuts, crazy peeps

whomever wherever,
regardless of race creed color or gender (did I get ‘em all?)
current state of residence (geo-identified)
a poem - the very same recited,
as a disclaimer, a yellow finger wagging warning:

“Don’t go! If you go, you won’t come back”

now kids, I’m a veteran of foreign travel,
many continents, cold and hot, rivers and seas,
some living, some dead,
some so big they named it Endless,
been to the great cities, Swiss villages,
pyramids, climbed Masada,
danced on grapes (why can’t I recall where)
skied the Alps, trekked the Sinai Desert,
clubbed in Rio, and danced till morn,
on a certain Greek Isle that rhymes with Mickey’s Nose
even been to L.A and San Fran, left poorer
but in sync,
always came home
with my mind decently reshaped

me/ a product of gritty unpretty grime,
streets of normal humans
acting like normal escaped mad persons,
this brutal city island instilled a
layer of fat and smog neath my skin,
a kind of migrating duck-like survival kit,
came with a homing beacon included

the those of you who know me,
perhaps too well, ken we citified islanders
love our beaches (fire hydrants)
cherish our sun dappled blessings
upon on farms (window sill herb gardens)
and sunning settlements (rooftops)

they say our tap water is secretly bottled,
sold in places where the springs purportedly
run crystalline

though we don’t got no pinot, just sweet concord grape,
so sweet, the wine of children and street nodders,
needy for instant sugar highs

so as we new Yorkers proudly
say on our license plates,
prove it or stfup!

so a first hand investigation for which
the taxpayers won’t be charged even a lousy mill,
deemed necessary to put to rest this crazy claiming warning

“Don’t go! If you go, you won’t come back”

guessing must be something in the water and the wine

Where does the tide wave bend
When does the sun beam start to warm
Why does the sky fly high
Who makes a baby smile
What would make her love me
When did it shine so brightly
A heat from a thousand years
A comfort that brings me home
She says it for true
This beating of hearts
Is synchronized in time but apart for so long
An etherial world of time and space
The crash of many waves
Pound the coast that's gray
Emptiness away forever gone
But a wall too high will not allow
The mind knows the heart craves
But denial stays
Just awaiting for the shower

I spent a over a year intertwining my life with yours.
We would talk about forever
Now you left me, we're still best friends and you are my everything
I can't seem to get out of bed
My guteral sobbing is shaking every bone as I write this
I love you
Please please be with me
They say sometimes what you want is not what you need.
I ******* need you.
You're my everything

Both furthest north & furthest west
in all of America, we drove
through pouring rain

A sign on the side of the road
read Beach 1

After days of driving, driving
through Washington, Oregon,
we arrived at a beach we never intended to find

The beach where water flowed
in streams across the sand,
where a family of seals
swam close to shore, playing,
disappearing into the flat & endless water

I saw a bald eagle for the first time
as we drove through Washington,
I watched it fly above us through the window
clouded with raindrops,
I thought I felt patriotic for a minute or two

Though I’m neither birdwatcher nor patriot,
the solemn bird left me
with a strange feeling, which I realized wasn’t patriotism--
the strength & bitterness in the bird’s eyes
and its steady, prideful flight
belonged to no country

The feeling returned to me
on this beach of another world,
or of this world before it was

The feeling was that it was good to be alive
and that I would change nothing
about my existence,
A thousand agonies were worth enduring
to have seen that bird
and the first of all beaches

When the sky is brilliantly dark,
when freshwater penetrates driftwood, joins
the ocean on the first
and only necessary beach:
Yes, it is good to be alive