Personal awakening, incurable
Reaching beyond everything
here on Earth, a permanent suffering.
For those undergoing the process
and for them who aren’t.

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 ∆

Woke up,
at Lake Balaton,
wrote up,
some words like Babylon,
or rather,
a rant on like the Tower of Babel,
chant down,
Babylon we build up and gather,

or rather,
we collect then scatter,
collect the thoughts,
then write them in patterns,

sort of,
like what prose is,
bitter sweet,
like what a rose is,

smells good,
but has thorns,
stormy seas,
but calm shores,

snore,
no,
sleep,
yes,
wake,
up,
re-,
freshed,

at a resort on a vineyard,
overlooking Lake Balaton,
with a girl who is gorgeous,
that let’s her ball of yarn unravel some,

she says she’s my “substitute,
in other words a replacement,
for the other girl I was going to bring,
with me on this 24 hour vacation,

and at first this sounds like an insult to her,
like she’s just here because the other one couldn’t make it,
but really if she can so easily replace the first girl,
then that means that the first girl was actually basic,

and was easily replaced with,
the new one,
see the first is so last night,
and this new one is so new dawn,

I’m on,
a level seldom reached,
like a secret state of enlightenment,
the type that’s so sacred it’s rarely preached,

enlightenment,
secret,
oh there he goes again with that Illuminati talk,
Jesus,

Jesus,
has nothing to do with this,
the new one is on the balcony dancing,
in the sunshine’s rays she’s beautiful,

the old one is gone now,
has no place in my life at all,
except for on the shelve of Past Memories,
that hangs on the Mind Museum’s wall,

although,

I had had an intense dream about the old one,
I’d dreamt about her Illuminati tattoo,
and we’d made love some of the best love made over,
as if I was Adam and she was the Forbidden Fruit,

ooh,

what’s the truth,
what’s perspective,
what’s the proof,
than any of this ever existed,

what are we doing here,
and how much longer will we be,
why are so many slaves to their own projected fears,
while so few are liberated with love and set truly free?

And this all comes to me like a never ending dream,
as I write this words which come to me in a conscious stream,
as my new love dances outside on this resort’s balcony,
overlooking Lake Balaton which is so big it looks more like the Caspian Sea,

see,

I woke up,
at Lake Balaton,
wrote up,
some words like Babylon,
or rather,
a rant on like the Tower of Babel,
chant down,
Babylon we build up and gather,

or rather,
we collect then scatter,
collect the thoughts,
then write them in patterns…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

author of the largest collection of poetry in the world.