#mainstream
iconoclastic art spirits wildness
served against the knuckles of mainstream engagement
it falls like vinegar in the oils of western modernism
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 7:50 PM UTC
When I was young,
only the courageous
women colored their hair
pink or green.
They risked job security
and they ignored
the conformed standards.
That strength of spirit
turned me on
far more than **** or legs.
That hair is now mainstream,
so I pretend courage
is mainstream.
–Ron Gavalik
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
Things are never as they seem
Flowing, rushing like a bloodstream
There are many different groups
Just going around through many loops
Feeling left out of the flows
But that is just how life goes
They pretend to like you, care about you
At least until they find someone better, someone new
That is when you realize you were never important
But what you don't realize is that you are all-important to me
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
The mainstream is changing,
Do you hear it’s call?
Structures once accepted,
Now begin to fall.
The mainstream is changing,
Do you see it form?
Conversations never had before,
Now become the norm.
The mainstream is changing,
Do you feel the flow?
Look around and look within,
And learn to just let go.
Let go and float wherever it takes you,
Let go of the stories told to break you,
Let go and allow the rapids to wake you.
The mainstream is changing,
Do you sense it too?
All there is to do is let go,
And the journey will find you.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 4:18 PM UTC
built to be torn
grown and then chopped,
we are.
set up in a mainstream world
blindly unaware that acceptance
is just an illusion with false hype
of great importance.
with conformists scared of 'insanity'
and shunning as the cure for all fear,
individualism falls.
society mindlessly pushes difference
off a black and white cliff
to decompose in a sea of acidic hate.
just for being content with our oddities,
we are shut down like the ignorant.
oh, how unfortunate we are
to be cursed with a brain.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC
Flashbacks and personifications of appearance,
Cashback is the fornication of adherence
Shut! with your big mouth proverbial fantasies,
Can’t you see this big mountain is just Virtual Reality?
If this mud is all matter, then my blood can cure cancer
My peers say I’m crazy, but it’s just a chemical reaction,
Or perhaps my fears are lately just less than the decimal fraction
Ethereal imagery dazzling to the secular eye,
But still banes and trifles to what tomorrow holds
Either deal with idolatry or the baffling homunculi,
than fail stifling on the hallow roads…
Hold, should I materialize further than this?
No, I’d meteorite farther than this…
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC
Culture Vultures dining on carcasses,
a culture of artist that,
act as if everyone is targeted,
and we are whether bisexual or bipartisan,
or both no vote only the onset of mainstream socialist monarchism,
a subconscious stream of consciousness consumed by a constantly contradicting condition of consumerism,
an avalanche of retail therapy and the avant of avant-gardism,
doesn’t have to be a better product or improved edition,
just has to be better packaged and marketed,
sold our souls so we don’t own anything anymore not even our own cognizance,
just look what what the mass media market did,
our collective memories and ancient traditions all but forgotten,
designer jeans symbolize a degenerative disease like Parkinson’s,
want to end this madness but don’t know who started it,
so who can we blame but ourselves in all honestness,
as we absorb Virtual Reality and ignore Actual Reality creating an occultism of Oculus,
Rift we drift into thee abyss of dark indifferences…
Neglecting the blueprint everybody’s a studio gangsta these days just ask 50 Cent,
morally bankrupt lazy played daisies try to copy Jay-Z’s blueprint,
but no body has a DJ Clue or a Ty Dollar to spare still everyone’s got their two cents,
all opinions given with no wisdom taken from the Grand Architect,
what good is good advice if we don’t take the time to listen we just dismiss it quick,
showing off trophies donating charity checks,
acting like champions we bare and beat our chest,
wearing fool’s gold and blood diamonds but we’ve won nothing yet,
honestly feels like we haven’t even started yet,
still we feel exhausted from this rat race for dominance,
slaves of an alien race we pledge allegiance with our obedience and faux pas ambiance,
And it’s all almost over for our entire empire so every moment better cherish it,
white robes with Chipko flip flops we hold the reins to Her Majesty’s chariot,
whipping the 500 horses faster in the fast lane will get you buried quick,
so I try and pace it and not get too wasted still I feel very sick,
when captain screams “You move too slow sailor!”, that’a when it’s time to depart this ship,
but you can’t rush good art and I’m an articulating artist for all the artisans,
in a constant state of affairs is why I haven’t married yet,
which of course means no divorce from any or all of this,
so I continue to translate transmissions without prejudice,
love is star crossed colorblind and my wonder mind is in wonderland’s luminescence,
as I illustrate illustrious illuminations off every edifice in this hedonistic eden like Edison,
with an ample amount of ambiance this is this rebels renegade Renaissance,
I write light before I become just another martyr for the Martian’s master plans,
my words are honest sonnets on tablets of mono-cultured monograms,
mono-glyphs that shine like a beacon on the Tower of Babel atop a cavernous monolith…
This is all honest in all honestness.
Here at the docks with assorted Goddesses and narcissistic walruses,
way up down under not trying to be negative but the only thing I’m positive of is,
we are cultivating a culture of artist that,
act as if everyone is targeted,
and we are whether bisexual or bipartisan,
so stay up and keep your eyes open because the games have just started kid.
This is all honest kid.
And I’m open to discuss everything except religion and of course politics,
so if you’re having issues then tell me what the problem is and maybe we can solve it quick,
and please don’t blame the Dalai Lama or Obama’s broken promises,
see we all have soiled wings just like these vultures that pick at our carcasses,
as we dine on Soylent Green served hot from the meting *** of concubine colleges,
wrong right black white day night see everything has it’s opposites,
so even the kindest animals will turn into carnivorous cannibals when all that’s left,
is blown kisses well wishes ***** dishes corrupt princes and spiritual paralysis,
this is the age of the dawning of Aquarius and the end of our passing genesis…
But what do I know I’m just a Son of a Gun on the run writing this mystic futuristic hit-list,
dressed to the nines with a bottle of moonshine and a bunch of empty cartridges,
in the Wild West with Clint Eastwood clean as a whistle mixin’ with ***** Harry’s pharmacist,
The Good Bad & The Ugly drink in acid rain and eat magic cactuses…
Howling at the full moon with peyote coyotes absent minded off the absinth mix…
Alive right here left for dead insane and out of practice with,
no clean water in the canteen and circling are the vultures just above us,
this teenage wasteland has no purpose with,
riff raft rats and religious rabbits in the crosshairs with deserted desert tortoises,
see these badlands will make the most professional professionals seem like just silly naive novices,
there’s nothing more to see here in this mirage except my rusty gun as it tarnishes…
my visions getting blurry bodies stopped but my mind’s still hurried this is what exhausted is,
and I’d escape if I knew a way out but instead I stay because I’m not sure what my other option is…
See I knew I would go I told you before everyone is targeted,
so soon it seems I’ll be just another rotting carcass that,
the Culture Vultures overhead dine on as their dinner when feeling peckishish,
terminated no terminator but like Arnold said, “I’ll be back.”, like I just started this…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Worldwide Bestselling Poet
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
She was walking
To an unknown destination
Didn't know that somehow
She'd end up where it all started
Looking for things that aren't to be seen
The roads change
but the destination
Is always the same
Fine sidelines feeling nostalgic
She's tempted but not willing
Promising vows with beautiful outcomes
All the synonyms to her wishes
Falling into the pressure
Tracing the steps
of anonymous people
Leading to a place filled with regrets
No unique signs
Can't change the game
Can't be blue
when the game's black and white
Zipped in a paperbag
Freedom is calling
Unzip and the colours shine through
60's re-lived but in different view
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 7:14 PM UTC
I could tell you about my acoustic guitar:
The phosphor bronze strings against the rosewood neck, or how my favorite chord sounds like stars and sleeping bodies.
I once wrote a love song
about mocha (and a girl)
But I forgot the lyrics
because I wasn't in love
An artist once accused me of giving up,
Of losing faith, of being lazy.
And he was a little bit right.
But music! Music is so easily produced,
quickly consumed, rarely reused.
How do you cash in talent
without melting into the
easily digested hooks
of Swift and Grande?
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 5:20 PM UTC
I have you in my sight
Time to take that picture
Saving it with your name
So you can look yourself up
Tell me where you are now
I need to know for your safety
Forget about privacy
Everyone's life is becoming an open book
Film all of your surroundings
to give memories more meaning
You look so much more happier
with that shining bright filter on
Slave of the new media
Need to confirm my existence
So please give me your opinion
to make my wasted days count
Conversations made
through meaningless stares at the screen
Real emotions never shown
Only delivered
Have you heard the news?
Why are you ignoring me?
Because everybody else has heard
about the truth of my lies
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
You see her in the coffee shop
Out of local mainstream
Sipping her black coffee
In her skinny gray jeans
You see her ambling round town
In the places no one goes
Her wild auburn hair
Hiding the white earphones, the players
Of music, only exclusive to her
Like a band at its first gig
You see her in food stores
Drifting between aisles
With an aura of mystery
Where she buys only coffee and kale
You see her browsing thrift stores
Picking out clothes
White shorts, button downs, black tights
You know she can afford more, but
You know that this is her style.
The style of the hipster.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
Mr. Media what do you see in use?
Stupidity in a chair, idiocracy in the air
Education is just a blur, a vision that has been lost
Crippled by news crews that cast platooned views then show you what's not true.
Picture your life in a frame of comparison then digest their daily distorted narratives.
That's a daily dose for the average men. Lies captured in vivid images, Titles Capitalized, idols dress in disguise
take out your knife and cut the veil from your eyes for their message is too addictive, don't let repetition A rise.
Depressions a state of mind, medication is what follows, but what would happen to the industry's if their pills were never swallowed.
a family's all you need to fill the gaps & the hollows, don't choose your friends for today instead keep them close for tomorrow.
You'll never know what could happen, you'll always fear in the night...tragedy and calamity always just sound alike.
But if you take a moment to breathe you'll realize that you will be all right, medias all left...us with faulty fears of fiction and pure threat...depictions of falseness, fueling the mindless, yes those who don't feel, will soon witness a riot, a riot of self-destruction
Everyone has a function, soon you will find yours, with this property comes decisions, decisions at all doors
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
What is 1 to 1.5
currency to relativity
urgency brings negativity
It's not about new tools
it withers your tools bring productivity
The way you slap that old guitar, the way you drive that beat up car
How fast does it run? How long does it last? How fast does it charge?
New can only take you so far
Let that distance your reach be derived from a skill, not from how rich or famous your are.
I often walk, even though I own a car...I prefer feeling the wind, the open-air, it makes me feel like I'm apart of something
The emotions I feel are driven from an organic substance, the dirt that I see the wind that I feel..these constant conflicts between what is man-made and what was here.
The stare of a deer, the tree was its friend, it's now been destroyed to make a path of cement.
That path of cement created a state of solidarity, urban prosperity, violence numbified by media regularities.
Civilizations become the norm, even though we all barely speak to each other physically
Digital formats become our literal floor mats, every result you leave results in a digital footprint, cataloged for the marketing lab rats
Too complex to understand like a physical labyrinth, Let me elaborate
So let me ask you ?! What is 1 to 1.5
Can you live without your social media vices, multimedia devices, tell me the definition of what "like" is
Currency, urgency, thumbs up if you feel like every part of your life is an emergency, if so then share it,
so the world can see
Then watch your conversations about fashion turn into a targeted ad about a jacket that is burgundy
Invasion of privacy? Not if your privacy is for the world to see.
Coincidently that jacket is on sale, so if you buy it this theory will not fail, and if you don't the media will still prevail, it's presence is an entire quarter, meaning it's heads or tails.
That's urgency hiding behind a veil.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
Questions, asking, always inquiring,
Boredom, controlling, brainwashing, time-wasting,
Answers, responses, results and results,
Topics, mainstream, popularity stats,
Demand it speak, the world of Cyber,
Ask, please, ask, for it to control you,
Learn what you need from what it can give you,
Learn but forget what it adds to your life.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 12:39 AM UTC
I don't think
I'd ever quit
Loving you.
I feel like
My chest is bursting out
Whenever I think
About your flaws
And your perfections.
'This is bullshit.'
I told myself
So many times
'Why would I love someone who'd never love me?'
This poem
May be mainstream
Simple.
But this simplicity
Hurting me every day
Devours me every night.
Killing me every morning
Hunts me every dusk.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
The problem
With
Poli-
Tricks-
They mention every
"God"
But the only
God-
And they wonder
Why their lost in
Misery-
Ashamed
In darkness
Falls- evolution
In schools
Meaning no
(Morals)
Their standards
Are that
man's a
Monkey, using
Euthenics( reviving ****** in their
Man-made
Mural's.
Eat your cereal
Live life as if we have the
B
L
I
N
D
E
R
S
ON-
Though my eye's are
Uncorrupted ( not seeing through misty nighttime glasses)
Breaking to the other
Side
Of the
Fog-
Science correlates with dios
And dios with science-
Yet popular belief
Is a tool
Of diablo's
Machine.
Reaching into the dome
Of the great
City-
Where America
Is astray
With the globe
In the horned one's
Mean's.
Has the man who said
There is no
God
Just walked out into nature-
To see the spectacular
Creation
On a universal
Scale?
Yet their bucket's of
Disbelief have been
Shown beneathe the
Veil
Where the impious
Are stale
And their
aspiration
Is
None!
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
Turning American sweethearts into
the Basic ******* of the West.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
I have no filter
raw naked bare authentic exposed heart emotions
constantly pouring into the open
humans are desperate for fidelity
and I know nothing but that
let's play a game
I'll hold up your pride
keep the walls
and stand alone to watch
you do your dance
and dissipate
from mainstream
even more than you already have
I know what I want
let's play a game
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Banality reins supreme
In our children’s dreams.
What do you expect
When principles defect
And brand names
Mark the scene,
When rock stars sell their souls
To executives in suits,
Make perfumes
From their dance room sweat
And wear expensive boots,
Then slap their name
On random ****
And sell how nice and cute
Their clothes look on baby girls
They know we can’t refute.
As if they write their music,
Or pen their awful hits,
******* souls for millions;
Tear integrity to bits.
When art is lost for money,
And the formula is the norm,
When thousands gyrate madly
To aural chloroform,
When children posture wildly
In photos with no shame
And send them to their idols
Who don’t care to carry blame,
When all we know is taken,
Corrupted and perverse,
And all our keen philanthropy
Is squeezed into a hearse,
When there’s nothing left
But adverts on our doors,
And mindless dancing robots
Falling to the floor,
Then we might just notice
How much we had to lose
When we turned our children loose
To tie up their own noose.
No matter how steep the cost,
There’s always room to climb
As soul-less music moguls
Wrangle for a dime.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
Wet for my blood
Wet for my sweat
Hunger over me
Wet for the ache between my eyes
Desirous seams
Tying the noose to the phyxi ****
Does it make you ******* wet?
Grasping the lines of this broken spine
Indebted till death
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC