"alphas" poems
Studies have shown that corporal punishment
at a young age
only results in learning disabilities,
God smacking the grey matter out your brain...
So the cycle of self, ego, perpetuating abuse, goes.
It is a series of footsteps, streams that become rivers;
and we are composed of these chaotic streams: energy
Dreams.
And my brother is a perfect window into "America"
He has a five year old boy, a Girlfriend with a boy and a girl;
They both believe in tough love and hitting;
On Sunday, as they were entering my mothers house,
his son hit him with a snow ball near the crotch, so he hit him
in the stomach, and I saw the boy lose his breath.
"You're a terrible father."
I picked him up as he started crying.
My brother said he was bad all day before that.
What am I to believe?
That you are raising, caring for, and loving unconditionally,
or you are ******* up as a parent by hitting your child?
What am I to believe? That glimmer of light is a deamon
or that the deamon is you, my brother.
When you slap your child, or any animal, you reduce it
its brain, its body, and its mind. That's why alphas ****
they just want to reduce the other males around them.
Its an evolutionary trait that carries through to today.
And so do fools, my nephews mother wants to medicate him...
when science meets spirituality, mind spirit
we replace the box with a tree, a galaxy.
We replace the pill with therapy, and community;
petrol with the sun, burning a hole
in the unity of our dreams and the whole of our destiny.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
i was born in a ghost hospital
a pile of stones and then a blank slate
with new antiseptic rooms
invisible blood-stained linoleum
and the sound of rubber tennis shoe soles
replacing the place where
i was born with dying stars in my eyes
and supernovae bursting with the
last of their fiery energy before they
blink out of existence
like the hospital where i was born
am i now to be a woman
without true north
a single brick from the single place
where i respired freely and
crisp breaths of truth passed
like whispers over my wordless lips
before the oozing obsidian night
slowly crept up and
wrapped itself around me like
a flea infested blanket
and the blinding white light
of a growing chain reaction
a deafening ring in my ears
nothing
then slow realization that
i'm still alive
battered by beta particles
attacked by alphas
and i'm alone in the nuclear winter
to trek towards my kaaba
the only piece of
where i came into the world
and was the baby girl that
my parents cradled in their
awkward hesitant arms
the little angel my father thought
would certainly break
into a million pieces by the slightest breath of wind
and scatter to heaven
for where else should such innocence be?
i yearn for that brick
from my hospital
because its foundation was built
on something apart
from eating disorders
bipolar disorder
suicide attempts
neat lines of cuts in various stages of healing
when i hold that stone in my hand
residual sand from the
demolition site crumbling
as i turn the cement over
and over
its warmth and weight so real in my hand
that i can see a dim light in a window
a glowing blonde kissing
her black haired beau
and the baby in her arms
theirs
even just for that night.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
The wicked, they come
In a cerulean dream.
The cellar door opened,
With an opposable thumb.
A disposable past
And no ties in the future,
They live within ******
And die through their caste.
Oh, Ford! They cry out
For all of their blessings.
Oh, Ford! I cry too,
To drown silent doubt.
“Take me to your room.”
She breathes, voice coppered,
She conducts me. Unzips in
One movement, fit to bloom.
“Lenina,” I call,
Eyes blinded by her colour.
In a world so built and grey,
I live only in her sprawl.
We finish, my heart descending.
She nicks her lips to my ear,
Then reminds me thus;
“Ending is better than mending.”
To bed we fall; once, twice, thrice.
Each time I cling longer,
Wrap her in bedsheets,
‘Till she feels our ****** splice.
With no use, she’s gone
To some other embrace.
Some cold shouldered support,
Then to the salon.
She’ll tell all to her friends,
A gaggle of giggles.
And he’ll speak of her,
Like some means to an end.
“Pneumatic,” is she,
He’ll say with no stutter,
“You should have her,” he’ll offer,
Like the fruit from a tree.
No, like meat, like meat,
She is passed around.
Like animals, the Alphas
Bruise, **** and maltreat.
Community. Snake-like,
It moves as if one.
Each person a muscle,
Not separate but a part.
Identity. It blurs,
‘Till I forget the use
Of my name. Push it out,
Repeat in my dreams.
Stability. It comes,
A two-gramme holiday.
A superficial guffaw
That veneers my face.
Oh, Soma! Come take me,
From where I don’t belong.
To where passions are birthed
Far from the hatchery.
To where feelings are heartfelt,
Not found in a pill.
Where waistlines aren’t throttled
By a Malthusian belt.
A savage I am,
In my pursuit for more.
When I long for freedom,
And not another half-gramme.
Gaia, she held us in her womb.
From fish to ape, she mothered too.
Now all that’s left is this soulless gloom
Where man is born only to consume.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
aloof alphas attack!
banal betas boom, before backing
cautiously, creeping
down, defensible dark
estuaries, estranged escapes
from fierce fiery-eyed
giant gators gathered,
hard hearted hedged
in impossible illumination, irate
jowly jeering jaded jackals
**** **** **** …
let loose low laughs
making much mirth mercilessly
now none need nourishment
oblivious obvious, overt
a putrescent phalanx,
quite quintessential a querulous quorum
a quatre
raucous resounding raptorials retreated
subsequently seizing sizeable sarcoid
sections in scissor strokes
total tormentors, that time twists the
ugly utilitarian
veracious victory
works the wild
yearning as
zealots
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
At Fuller's emporium of whiskers and wine,
As matches are struck on the no smoking sign.
Mr Terry Fuller, of reddened face refined,
Regiments and orders his elbows aligned;
With stories of rumour, football, *******
Thieves, my boy and across Texas by trucking.
He loudly regales to the spirits of faces,
"Me and my boy have been to some places, we've seen some girls, he gave em' rub,
As I was too busy running the pub."
Howling as they're told, sighing in ease,
Mr Daniels accusing "who's round is it please?"
When shadowed in doorway, tip-toes, a pale boy.
Stringy, svelte and painfully coy.
Debate is lulled, as men catch scent.
"Don't come in here boy, or your money'll be spent."
Roaring,rumbling, the boy unsettled in mirth.
"He can't buy any beer, he's only just had his birth."
Half-pint of breath, the boy stammers to say.
"I just was curious, i mean, I ask, if I may-"
A bellowing fanfare, "Speak up or go away!"
"I just wanted to know what you do with your day?"
Mr Fuller, heaving his pink smirking bulk, anchored by his drink.
"We work, we go home and we pub till we sink."
Troughs raised in toast, raining down on bald heads.
As the boy puzzling thinks what the bulbous man said.
"Then tomorrow" yelped the youth.
"What do you do after that?"
"More of the same, till God's on the mat!."
Throned by grey faces, blanketed in smoke,
As the toothless, eggs titter at the nonsensical joke.
Raising a tiny limb, "So this happens everyday?"
Mr Fuller rubbed his hands, "I wouldn't have it another way."
The alphas puffing , guffawing, dribbling beer down chins. And for blood-vesseled faces another story begins.
As the silhouetted boy under a veil of tears, whispers "I'm so sorry" and leaves.
In Fuller's emporium a silence ensued,
The sound sat between them and quietly chewed.
Every brow furrowed, as the beer didn't flow.
A quiet conclusion.
"The youth of today what do they know!"
JWS
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Ever since I met her she captivated me
i'd seen this one before, but fiery is she
Her flaming tresses fall to her side
And I love the way she tries to hide
'Neath them and escape her mate
But she smiles, only wants to make me wait
So I attack her side and make her laugh
Grin and pin her then voice my path
Make her weak and tame this beast
Vulnerable, this alpha ceased
To fight this cunning beta...
An alpha tamed by a beta?
She'll shake within his grasp
Aware of his power, and she'd gasp
But there's no way i'd let her go
I call her bluff and let her know
She's mine... I am the alpha now.
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
In this life, we are all placed
into a category from birth:
Alphas or Epsilons, firsts and lasts.
And the Alphas go on to live beautiful lives
with wonderful significant others and
successful children and
fulfilled dreams and
intelligent thoughts and
perfect luck.
And the Epsilons go on to live sub par lives
with average significant others and
delinquent children and
nonexistent dreams and
subservient thoughts and
no knowledge or experience of luck.
But Epsilons are so endearingly stupid
that you cannot help but feel sorry for them
and so we pretend to love them, we tell them
that they are special, that they are beautiful.
But there is nothing more dangerous than allowing
an Epsilon to have a sense of self-worth, of self-respect
because once they believe that they are more than the picture
you have painted of them, they will refuse you and your
inadequate "love".
Everyone falls for the Alphas, darling.
It's the natural order of things
And we, the Epsilons, we go on living
our insignificant,
sub par,
hopeless
little Epsilon lives.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC
My teacher told me,
leaders are Alphas.
A pack chooses an Alpha not based on size but,
based on it's ability to care for the pack.
He said we, the leaders, were chosen as Alphas.
Then, he said something that moved me.
He said that there would always be insecure Betas who are jealous of you.
That's when the bullying starts.
Now I know why you hurt me.
I'm an Alpha and you, an insecure Beta.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
You and I
we are much a like
do you know
how pack animals live?
An alpha is the head of the pack
he makes sure everyone
is okay and alive.
But when a wolf is separated
from his pack
he becomes an omega--
a lone wolf
and omegas are very vulnerable
and lonely.
They are the wolves
typically depicted
howling at the moon
crying out for help
"I am alone.
I don't want to be alone anymore."
You and I
we are much alike
two omegas
howling at the moon.
We heard each other's cries.
And when two omegas meet
they become a pack on their own.
"We're not alone anymore."
You are my alpha.
And I still smile
everytime I remember
what you said.
"I'll let you meet my friends."
you said out of the blue
"Why?"
I asked you.
"Remember when I said,
it is just the two of us?
Well. It is time to meet the pack."
But I was scared.
What if you find out
that I am not really a wolf.
What if you knew
that I was a fox
all along?
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
Lama Leonard
Sing me a song again,
Before your life is over
Before you leave the stage and dive
Down below the clover
Before you reap the seeds you sowed
The wild world over
Between the alphas and the omegas
In bawdry nights inside bodegas
Lama Leonard listen to
My song before you go
I've listened to yours since sixty eight
And now it's getting late
Ukulele days are numbered now
I finally found my key
I'd like to know, before I go,
You listened once to me
Sean Hunt 2013
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 4:25 AM UTC
As I sit waiting in my lonely castle, gripping onto the parapets, I pray that I can keep myself away from the fringe of reality
And though I am not lost, it still drives me bonkers that I cannot raise myself up as some sort of merciful avatar; some sort of pillar that cannot be driven into a tailspin as gravity falls around it
Yet, I find that I have leverage in this scenario—that my choices do not fall on pale wings supported by goodfeathers
Somehow this calms me and keeps me feeling supported in a world of alphas, and I know that my final words—even if they do not end with me yelling eureka—will have the effectiveness and power of the big bang theory
And I carry on in thought, yearning for some sort of fairy tail that doesn’t need to begin with “once upon a time,” but that can still lead to a grassy meadow where I can my lay my hands on just one firefly
So I pull on the cape that I was given from this King of Queens, ready to chuck myself over the ledge of the tower, fearing that these pocket monsters I carry with me will do nothing to save my fall
And even though I’m mad about you, and even though I feel like I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, I trust that my life will be saved solely on the fact that I am a person of interest to all
For now I see the end and fear the worst, surrounded by freaks and geeks, by a full house in dire need of home improvement
And despite the fact that family matters, I find that I would give it all away to help a lost girl if it meant saving me
In the end I grab the block of black and, with regret, I end it all with the click of a button
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
Loner, Weird and Timid that's how people address me. If not in the upper left corner sit in our school auditorium where nobody can notice, you can find me behind the farthest shelf in the library. It's not because I'm hiding or something. It's just for me, being alone is convenient.
Loneliness is my Sanctuary, my Haven, my Paradise, or so I think. I don't really mind. I'm happy with the presence of every character in the stories that I read. I'm already preoccupied with enough drama, excitement and adventure that I get in the different worlds that I've been in the comfort of this bench in the bleachers or the behind of this shelf.
If the cosmos requires me to interact with my fellow **** sapiens, I often do nothing to caught their attention. The last time i was in this realm I'm in the middle of name calling by those so called "Alphas" that think that they're so great. I even got bruises when one of them pushed me. I don't mind. I won't be in this realm for long anyway. Once this is all done I will be again in the comfort of my Sanctuary, fighting alongside the allied force for the safety of the Galaxy.
Endure it, endure it, don't fight back, use your brain rather than brawns, you can't defeat them in brawl just endure this until they got bored. Whew, this is harder than the ambush that the alliance experience when they were in the asteroid belt. But I can do this. I'm just a little bit dizzy and a bit hurt mostly in my head, wait what's this? Blood? That stupid alpha gotten too far. I must evacuate. I must..
Where am I? Where is this?
"So you're awake now cadet." Who's that? "You've fallen unconscious on the ambush in the asteroid belt but now you're awake" what? The last thing I remember is that I'm in the middle of the bloodthristy alpha in our school ground. I guess I'm a cadet of the alliance now. I don't get it but at least I'm in the happy place now.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
Some days are heartless, some days are cold
The stories of us can never be told
Months and years passed by like wind..
I never thought that we..would come to an end
We used to be the alphas, had our own pack of wolves
Now all that's left is nostalgia, all I am is a lone wolf
Wherever I go your scent will follow
Without you I remain like a bird so hollow
Can't keep you out of my mind, you're like a drug and I'm blind.
and I'm afraid..
Afraid if I get strayed there would be no one to my aid
Clear out my head from this blur, from this fade
And there I start walking because I'm tired and sick of talking
Throwing my past behind,this is my life,I've made up my mind
I'm walking away and never coming back..
My past keeps haunting me in my dreams
I'm done with all the nightmares, done with all the screams.
I'm walking away because it's time to let go,
Time to rise from this overwhelming shadow..
And I know my heart is full of sorrow..
But it's time I live for a better tomorrow.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
Sleeping without a blanket,
but that’s okay it’s the tropics,
I gave my blanket or rather sheet,
away to the girl that’s sleeping on the futon across the room from me.
She’s not my lover,
at least not in the contemporary sense,
as in we don’t sleep together or have ***
but I guess as lovers can make love without having ***
See I’ve got a girlfriend,
and I’m trying to be loyal,
for the first time in my promiscuous life,
I’m trying to be a legitimate boyfriend.
I didn't plan on sleeping with this girl,
I only wanted to explore each other's Beautiful,
neither one of us thought too much,
we just loved the touch of each other in the moment...
excerpt from '777: Alphas & Numerics' the new book by Aaron La Lux
available worldwide.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073SFCHGT/
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 11:17 PM UTC
Close Enough To Sunday
It’s all fckt up,
can’t even pretend that it’s not,
I get invited out to all these events,
where everyone’s all dressed up,
but I’m not,
I’m there in jeans and a t-shirt,
thanking those that are thanking me for writing these prophecies,
but really I’m not sure what all this work was or is really worth…
written about 10 books,
multiple international best sellers,
#1 Poetry Book in The World,
4 times in a row for worse or for better but whatever,
I mean really,
what am I even saying,
and really,
what are you even saying?
It’s all fckt up,
and we all know it,
still we pretend it’s all good till the end,
we had a Chance to save us just needed to not blow it,
but we did,
we neglected the earth,
even though we all knew and know,
that that Moment of Truth is coming and it’ll hurt,
can’t even have a drink at a club,
without feeling guilty for the pollution we’ve caused,
even when those drinks are free and served with a smile,
because I know that smile is usually covering some recently retreated sores,
we’ve neglected the poor,
and caused significant scars,
on the skin of Mother Earth,
meanwhile Musk just wants to colonize Mars,
and that’s not a shot at Elon,
I trust him and respect his vision,
he’s a creative visionary genius creation,
a creative genius that generally makes good decisions,
I’m just saying,
given the current position,
whether Elon Musk or a homeless vagrant,
we’re all fckt equally and that’s the fckn situation,
it’s all fckt up,
can’t even pretend that it’s not,
I get invited out to all these events,
where everyone’s all dressed up,
but I’m not,
I’m there in jeans and a t-shirt,
thanking those that are thanking me for writing these prophecies,
but really I’m not sure what all this work was or is really worth…
Still I put in work,
verse after verse,
cliche after cliche,
The Gift & The Curse,
like somehow,
I’ll be able to write all our wrongs,
answer all the questions,
and celebrate with victorious songs,
make Love and make Mysteries,
with a Stranger in a Strange Town,
and I’ve been up till way too Late:30 lately,
too tired to debate or hesitate when it’s high time to get down,
down,
here,
the sky looks so beautiful,
the mushroom clouds,
from the ground,
are everything I choose to show,
so,
whatever,
what more can we say,
let’s go,
wherever,
‘cause we've got it all but the only thing we want to get is away,
want for nothing else,
hey it’s Close Enough to Sunday anyways,
so let’s just take this day to rest,
no need to worry about the one thing that comes to everyone eventually,
let’s take some time to take some time,
no need to go right now ‘cause we all go one way or another anyways,
one day,
soon,
high as,
noon,
so,
so what,
so,
we’re fckt,
it’s all fckt up,
can’t even pretend that it’s not,
I get invited out to all these events,
where everyone’s all dressed up,
but I’m not,
I’m there in jeans and a t-shirt,
thanking those that are thanking me for writing these prophecies,
but really I’m not sure what all this work was or is really worth…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
from '777: Alphas & Numerics'
available worldwide here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:54 AM UTC
The trees sip through
the vast rivers of the Earth.
Like a man worried to death.
Like a man walking to and fro.
The alphas guide their weak.
Not giving independence,
but claws burrowed tense,
like a pleading sick who seek.
Why do stars twinkle at night?
Why do stars twinkle at mere sight?
Why do stars give its light?
Why do stars twinkle at night?
I paint my mind
with the colors of your smile.
Those precious smile
that makes everything rewind
even time that we cannot hold.
It is quick as the dunes of the desert.
It is as fragile as dirt,
but held and not foretold.
Why do stars twinkle at night?
Why do stars twinkle at mere sight?
Why do stars give its light?
Why do stars twinkle at night?
Because the night was right
to embrace you tight
in this warm delight.
And that is why,
my love,
stars twinkle at night.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
So high,
thank you for this life,
amazing you are,
as open as you are,
I love your tattooed scars,
I live your light,
I,
I,
I,
high,
breathe,
stretch,
see,
so beautifully,
addicted to your rhythm,
my God Goddess your goodness,
your religion is alive I love you,
leave flowers in the form of gestures at your temple’s steps,
temple-step,
always yes,
all bless no stress,
yes yes yes,
express,
in ecstasy,
honestly,
everything,
is embodied in your body,
the depths of your generations,
your intuitive inspirations,
making sin seem so Godly,
God we,
are so high…
So high,
thank you for this life,
amazing you are,
as open as you are,
I love your tattooed scars,
here we are,
blasting through this universe like a shooting star,
remind me please,
who we really are,
are,
we,
free enough to be,
strong enough to seam,
these hands together while awake in this Dream,
so we can stop Time from ticking and History from repeating,
ring ring,
so goes the phone,
ringing from WhatsApp,
“What’s up?” I answer the call coming from India,
I answer the phone even though,
I’m in the middle of a Gambling Game,
“Don’t come to Bombay in June.”,
says the girl who’s advice I always take,
take,
my everything I want to request of her,
but she’s on a boat on a lake in India,
and I already know her answer is always yes,
because she’s as in to me as I am into her,
her,
definition becomes infinite as the Lines blur,
her,
definition becomes infinite as the Lines blur…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
from '777: Alphas & Omegas'
available worldwide: www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
Opening doors...
There is more...
More than stars,
More than universe's.
Doors ajar,
As well as shut.
Doors to everywhere,
doors to nowhere.
The space between,
Infinite and infinitesimal.
The cyclic nature of energy,
Never ending always beginning.
paradoxical alphas omega,
They are one in the same.
*Separation is a byproduct of consciousness.
Death of self...
Is only another door.*
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
There is no walking to the other side
Not for the desire I hide
For myself
My motive or drive
Today my birthday
An anniversary for living
The day
Earths birthday
Whatever Gaia shall look upon
Where the tiger roams
He cannot hunt the wolf
Be the omega
Don't allow alphas
I am as bad as you can make me out to be
You're as bad as everyone else
The more you change
The more you change
In the happiest times
Darkness lies ahead
For to know happiness
You have to know sad
You have to miss the happy
And cuddle sad as a best friend
It's the basic emotion
There is no such thing
As sad
Sad by itself leads to angry
Angry isn't the most horrific
Angry is sad
Sad is happy
Happy is angry
Take time to wallow in the darkness
To appreciate the light
But to that light we fall
We fall we fall
Because everyone fears
The devils handwriting
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
[by Edna St. Vincent Millay]
When you are dead, and your disturbing eyes
No more as now their stormy lashes lift
To lance me through...as in the morning skies
One moment, plainly visible in a rift
Of cloud, two splendid planets may appear
And purely blaze, and are at once withdrawn,
What time the watcher in desire and fear
Leans From this chilly window in the dawn...
Shall I be free, shall I be once again
As others are, and count your loss no care?
Oh, never more, till my dissolving brain
Be powerless to evoke you out of air,
Remembered morning stars, more fiercely bright
Than all the Alphas of the actual night!
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
Opening doors...
There is More than planets,
More than galaxies,
More than universe's.
Doors ajar,
As well as shut.
Doors to everywhere,
And nowhere.
The space between,
Infinitely large,
And infinitesimally small.
The cyclic nature of energy.
Never ending always beginning.
paradoxical alphas omega,
They are one in the same.
Separation is a byproduct of consciousness.
Death of self...
Is only another door.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
The City of Demonios
“Why are some people waiters,
while others are waited on,
why are some people Haters,
while others are hated on?”
I was awaited on,
before they knew they were waiting,
snatched from my cradle pinched from my dreams,
or so it seems because it appears the people are awaking,
I’ve awaken,
in some sort of dream awakening,
and I’m trying to not let Them get to me,
but it seems They get to everyone eventually,
preyed on by hungry Demons,
Fallen Angels that haven’t found peace,
from the hills in The City of Los Angeles,
to the beaches in Long Island in the East,
and this indigestion from lost intentions is getting intense,
so we throw up everything from inside the Belly of the Beast,
a feast,
I offer up my body for Death,
like they do on Himalayan mountain peaks,
when they offer eagles the bodies of the dead,
see only through the death of the physical,
can the Soul truly ascend,
ascend,
do not fear the Reaper,
hey friend,
let’s make them all Believers.
I see her,
like a nightmarish dream,
I love Her I hate her I don’t want her I have to have her,
she quietly stares in my eyes loudly and makes the Silence scream,
scream,
isn’t that a painting?
A dream,
isn’t that an awakening?
Let’s not,
let our,
hopes only be hopes,
manifest,
all of this,
before Death ties His rope,
around our necks,
bringing about suffocation,
please let us be free,
we all need some liberation,
but for now,
I’ll just take a glass of water,
I’m parched it’s a desert out here,
and I’m wondering if this trouble’s worth the bother,
“Waiter,
please a glass of water.”,
I order a glass of water after saying all of this,
then turn to you and say “Isn’t it ironic?”,
“Why are some people waiters,
while others are waited on,
why are some people Haters,
while others are hated on?”…
No answers only questions,
ah well stay calm and carry on…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
from 777: Alphas & Numerics
available worldwide 7/7/17
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 3:40 AM UTC
“Wolves may show the eye of maleficence, understand what it means.”
“By all means, become an abomination, but only when unhinged by grief or wrath.”
“You love life because life is all there is.”
It’s true what they say about wolves. To me, the wolf represents freedom. A type of freedom without borders. A freedom that cannot be taken away. A pack is a pack and each of them carries one another their pack within them. “The strength of the pack is the wolf, the strength of the wolf is the pack.” So to speak. If one drifts or is out of order, one look, or growl can mean something. Or everything. A very interesting point is that the Alphas mate for life, or until the other passes. Wolves represent loyalty. They are loyal to their pack mates and have maybe the strongest bonds in the animal kingdom.
They are a Pack. They are family. They are One.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Wolf howl,
Challenge came forth.
Barriers switched.
Uncertain mends.
Wolf howl,
War has begun.
You have a battle ahead.
No time to run.
Bloodbath,
A duel between Alphas.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
we spent the
weekend
taser-gunning
the cows
Billy rigged up
a bathtub
in the pasture
where we heated
the water to a boil
and gently
placed them in
their soft smiles
thanked us
and a foamy grey film
bled out as they
sunk below
the surface
Billy retched
and I told him
to be calm
it’s just
the final essence of
their kindness rising
I said
their inner milkiness
then a ruby-throat
came to draw in
the nectar from a
cluster of bee balm flowers
immortalized in mid-air
and still more cows
wandered forward
in their smoky flatulence
we found
alphas and deltas
that we arranged
into formulas
on a tarnished
silver plate
and as the campfire embers
glowed deep red and
our sleeping sacks
beckoned to us
we drank down the
final gulps of
hot miner’s tea
and Billy pronounced it
“more of the stuff
that made Rome great”
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC