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

Is the story true?
that he would swallow animals alive
or is it simply exaggerated
to shock our own eyes.
I believe he was real, but the story
it just doesn't add up...
how on earth did he not throw it all up?

Tarrare still lives amongst us
in smaller doses on YouTube
people eating their way slowly
to new subscribers, and fans.

'Interview with a cannibal,'
thats there by the channel Vice.
And if you look a little closer...
There are more scary beings,
hungry for a morbid delicacy,
I wish I had never seen....

Tarrare truly seems to be
the most volatile and sick individual,
ever documented...
But did he simply eat out of choice?
or was he so ill he couldn't be saved
From his eventual demise.

Whatever the case,
versions of this man, they exist

and the scary part is.
we thought it was just him

Historic houses to disappear,
Most have disappeared somewhere,
Demolished in the name of progress,
Change never changes, I guess.

To see multiple humans acting as one is a refreshing sight,
It's a sight saved for the most historic occasions.

Gathering faiths ‘neath earth and stone
in pressing dark and trodden halls
where fire ignites in broken souls
and flames ignite the temple's walls

In slumber rests the rusted blade
the sound of freedom softly rings
as musty eyes emerge from gray
and stirrings do the noises bring

A hope renewed where death prevails
awakened in the lowly cast;
For t'was between two rods of steel
That freedom was attained at last.

I dread the historic day.
The day when the tables turn,
And we are side by side.
But no words will be said.
No feelings will be felt or shown.
There is a new glass between us.
It is something that changes you.
I needed you to help me with my war,
To help me with what was going to happen.
To control the beat.
But no.
A war broke out between us and both sides are fighting.
But neither yell.
Neither hit.
We do nothing but wait.
Wait for the historic day.