Got that Celebrity Life,
got that “He’s Too Real” type of vibe,
got that you want to have him forever,
but you can’t because it’s “Hi” and “Bye”,

that he moves too quickly like a Gypsy,
that life’s too good somebody pinch me,
that you see him but don’t really know him,
like I’ve heard the name seen the face but who is he,

really,

no time for the drainers,
I’ll ball until on the wall of the Hall of Famers,
if Life’s a Game then I’m all in,
Life to me is what a game is to a Gamer,

dedicated,
tunnel vision,
writing books about all of this,
split decisions,

split screens and wet dreams,
getting rings I get things,
a champion at being a champion,
into inventing things that are inspiring,

even my sadness makes me happy,
can’t bring me down,
and I can’t fully pronounce this city,
but when I’m with my local friends this is my town,

this is our town,
we are local heroes,
make a lot give a lot,
so what yeah I’m a ******,

but so is everybody else that’s anybody,
the freaks come out at night and I’m a night owl,
if you know the Mysteries of Life,
then you already know me well,

developed such a relationship,
that strangers act like they know me,
but I guess that’s what happens,
when you’re an underground celebrity,

a celebrity to celebrities,
anybody that’s somebody should know me,
connected to a higher power,
not Austin Powers all real more like Jay Z,

got that Celebrity Life,
got that “He’s Too Real” type of vibe,
got that you want to have him forever,
but you can’t because it’s “Hi” and “Bye”…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

Anything All of the Everything

Events of Summer quickly ensue, it takes hold of you quickly, while the police drive thru. You cannot find it half-way into the night, you could hold up on a park bench or lay your blanket on the slough. Perhaps when your dreams kick, your asterisks will come, build a map of your defense and then head for the sun. Some foe outwit the wounds of life, furry blister-like faces, when they take up the star dust diamonds, the trail guides take after hurrying up paces.

The festivities of fear are living oaths inside of marbled starve rocks, they harvest shoots and ladders, and keep tabs on wild beasts and livestock. There's no match throughout the campgrounds. There's no matchbook light to find us. If you're quick enough with your 70s, then perhaps you'll follow the nightness that's arrived us.

In aide of her lift-gate, shredding pensive miens and speeding mimes, taking ward of one thousand fathomed depths, assumes courageous anti-hate isms. She can come quickly with a syzygy, her van packed with fresh woes of Sunday, then around Monday humbly hides her stuff in the small hems of her bed linens. You can't outwit the governess who preys on handicapped children's thrift finds. She makes clothes and keeps her hands to bed. She bares new graves for time's new roman epithets and moving pictures. She  unplugs her bleeding tongues under some new sone for her monarchic archetypical audiophile party.

While the umberphiles sleep, nyctophiliacs stalk grizzlies. Mosquitos quaff at human blood, while their offspring keep drinking. The idle bugs throes, misanthropic and useless, teach electric lusters' mouths to grow into fiery hoops with which to slip past all the clueless.  The arachnids might dance, the haunting verbs they might fray. The Egyptians at first glance, try to hide their heroine pyramids away.

So hush little violet dormant flowers, fake your fertility and keep your skeptic drink. Keep each one you might meet, within one hundred feet of where you sleep. Keep your arms length's supine, your supplies out of reach, practice wrapping yourself up inside boxes where the souls can sleep.

If you only once catch a fool, avoid the plague-speak certain lips might tell. Each uttered word commanded with too much ******* across the bandwidth. Mortal courses can't be taught, human voices can't keep the draught, ferocious abstract engineered humanity has escaped this truant absence and immorality. You, you catch a fool, she could preach hurts and djinns, it could dot the I's of when, and unfurl the sighs of men. Berthed earthlings that the **** ascribes, hurts the worthless and sours true purpose widths of curfews and its curses, all these biomes perfervidly reserve the fury for their furtive perversity, elements to obscure the telemetry that has coddled such a dark conflagration of immensity, it's the cluelessness of these transgressors that forces the abhorrence towards all-white-everything professors.

as she's
so felt this
way too
but her
slits between
thighs array
with shirts
that she
skirt her  
ludicrous
beliefs that
really miss
tan lines
round her
gluteus maximus

How long behind Bob Dylan’s Shades—
smoke furls and curls among the glass—
before a man belies his fame?

The corner of the room pervades—
imbued with smoke if so to pass—
How long behind Bob Dylan’s Shades?

Visage so cool but starts to jade;
will eyes see through and to surpass,
before a man belies his fame?

Caught in the great aesthetical wake,
the fans will bend and surge en masse—
How long behind Bob Dylan’s Shades?

His words, his voice, depict a sage—
I wonder if the lore will last
before a man belies his fame.

But once the petals cease to sway
and blades blow back a pompous ***—
How long behind Bob Dylan’s shades,
before a man belies his fame?

Welcome to the stage on which
Life is lived as a performance
Welcome to the office in which
Every day is a job interview, where
Work is nothing more than being looked at
And admired
And despised
And envied

Welcome to a new bank account, with
More money than anyone needs, and
More pressure than anyone deserves, to
Spend it as tabloids demand

Welcome to criticism, for clothing choices –
Too last-year
Too slutty
Too creative
Too similar to someone else
Not flattering enough
Not slutty enough
Not daring enough

Welcome to scrutiny, over
Every romantic detail
Every baby’s name
Welcome to mockery

Welcome to an opportunity to
Use your voice
Take a stand
Make a change
Welcome to pressure to
Toe the line
Stay mainstream
Take no risks

Welcome to a new form of slavery, offering
Wealth and adoration
Freedom for some and shackles for others
Welcome to a ruined, wasted life lived short of its potential –
Relationships missed
Role in the home passing by, and
A tempting, all-you-can-eat buffet of mental health issues

Welcome to a new status, to be
Cool
The centre of attention
Off trend
Forgotten

Welcome to the celebrity contradiction
Attention-grabbers, with
Demands for privacy

Welcome to someone just like
Me –
And
You

Curtains up, lights and sparks
Golden tickets, rising stars
Race to the finish, flashing lights
Adrenaline rush, crazy nights
End of the stanza, quick pitstop
Let's start again take it from the top

Road to addiction, highway to hell
Lined with paparazzi, celebrity's spell
Life in the fast lane, no matter the race
Chemical crutches, to keep the pace
Stay behind to catch, when the curtain's down
And the makeup off - tears of the clown

Tragic comedy - this business we've made
The perfect picture on endless parade
Life imitates art, art imitates life
And the life of the artiste burns out in the fight.

Batman has died and people are depressed.
The world has to say goodbye to Adam West.
He starred as the Caped Crusader for three years.
Before he went to Heaven, he had a great career.
He became the Dark Knight over fifty years ago.
He made a success of the Batman television show.
He was a reoccurring character on Family Guy.
His fans were both sorry and sad to see him die.
He was very talented but now he's being laid to rest.
Every Batman fan should be grateful to Adam West.