"maximal" poems
************ the ego
tis seen as a trifle banal
the odd big cranial bloke
belongs to this cabal
tirelessly they stroke
the head to a maximal size
as the inflated phallus
doth give them such a rise
************ shall always be
their pastime of infatuation
as they are so in love
with the ego's glorification
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
April is retirement time
Triple hot memory stream
Of months that March close behind
Febru and Janu very kind
Not far still to remember
The days of cool December
The long talks in your chamber
The sweet eves of November
Not to mention the embers
Of love that warm up members
May be rain or hay day noon
July finds an all wet June
But days come like August guests
And busy with just inquests
Time turns September Rians
forget-me not, you asters
Full of morning glory stares
You Octogenarians
All contain within a span
Of sweet memory expanse
You too collecting pension
After superannuation.
Its nice to see you colleagues
Always glad without fatigue
Chatting and pat the other
Cracking jokes on your attire
The young baby look you wear
And the nursery kid's fire.
Its all fare and just affair
One more phase to maneuver
In the course of your orbit
On face of earth to be fit
To gain and do maximal
Service to its proximal
April too is time to thank
For the net balance in bank
And set your mind on the crank
And care for fitness and fun
To re-register and run
The vehicle with new paint
Not to shuttle and to taint
Nor to settle in confine
But to scuttle along nature
To look and learn and nurture
And listen to the pristine
Wisdom from the Lord divine.
Thanks to you all who retire
And wish you keep up the fire!
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
Work Ethic
Work requires professionalism,
at all times in all set of conditions.
let an earned knowledge and skills,
an asset to be utilized as maximal.
no regrets even if reward is scare,
go ahead do it for the love of work.
People around need not to be told,
everyone knows who perform well.
real professional does not brag,
seldom claims for recognition.
open-minded to a paradigm shift,
never pessimistic but often optimistic
at anything of value and substance.
let others rationalize to find reasons,
act on the issues with sound mind
no jesting around just do things right.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC
Tangent, like so
Back side, torso
Two systems touching
Move ever so slow
Breathe in the body heat
Top off both of the lungs
Feel those expand the diaphragm
Stretching body to its limit
Then halt
Then hold
Let the ribcage further swell
To the point of nearly bursting
First stroke
Feel cold air tingling the nose
Make contact
Release the diaphragm
Slowly, almost without motion
Pour heat outside into the chill
Until the airways close down shut
Press on, then press some more
And take your breath away
Second stroke
The cycle starting over
Rhythmic, measured, patient
With maximal efficiency
Each night,
You prove through me the limit
of possibility
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 9:09 AM UTC
my favorite part of the day could never be the morning
when we're new people and hesitant strangers
but it's when your smile is the brightest and your kisses are the softest
my favorite part of the day could never be the afternoon
when there's minimal talking and maximal noise
but it's when silence gets blissful and comfortable
my favorite part of the day is the night
when you're vulnerable and tired, yet smiling
when your arms touch my skin like satin
when i can see stars in your eyes
but alas, the brightest stars are the ones yet to fade the soonest
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
Have a look at the parade of clowns
Copycats
Copying emptiness
Copying lazy sentiments
Copying spiteful opinions
Tantrum after tantrum
Rant after rant
Idiot after idiot
This is what the world has become
Mainstream muckiness
Dreams of something special
Broken by modern day mentality
Minimal input, maximal output
All aboard the hype train
All behind the laptop
Digital drama democratized
As avant-garde lags behind
The army of halfwits
Celebrating
Celebrating uniqueness
Celebrating false individualism
Celebrating blissful ignorance
Lie after lie
Mask after mask
Actor after actor
This is it
The world’s a stage
The play is badly cast
The words are meaningless
Uttered in vanity
All brain, no heart
All play, no work
All for nothing
But with the clowns to the left of me
And the halfwits to the right
I’m taking a stance against it
Against the copying
The celebration of nothingness
The false individuality
I won’t utter my words
I won’t play my part
I will embrace the heart
I will take of my mask
And let everyone know
I won’t settle for this
I will come, see and conquer
And then lose it all
But I’ll pick sincere decline
Over false stagnation any day
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
Maximal tactics, i'm moving diagonal
fast attack, mad like a rabid animal
I can scramble em and eat em up like a cannibal
silence of the lambs, you can call me hannibal
factual master of blasting the practical
grammatical fractions that act like a manual
brashly cast and I smash like a radical
glad to put a badass on a lasting sabbatical
I hit with a fist and it's fit for the mystical
put **** in the britches of the illiterate pitiful
I get physical on the brittle when condition is critical
on a mission to finish putting rips in the typical
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
Prolégomènes à un poème sur la disparition de notre Chienne cocker Laïka
Les Chiens et nous-mêmes
Je vous ferais parvenir le poème presque prémonitoire écrit, cet été à Letia en Corse , intitule «notre chien a onze ans» (en fait elle en avait dix ans et demi).
Ayant déjà eu, un chien cocker de couleur noire; lors mon enfance passée en Kabylie, répondant au nom de «Bambi» (le Faon de la bande dessinée de Walt Disney) j'ai appris à adorer nos meilleurs compagnons avec les chevaux et compte désormais les temps de la vie humaine en durées moyennes de vie passée en compagnie avec ce merveilleux et surtout si fidèle compagnon et ami de l'homme.
C'est à dire que pour une durée de vie moyenne de soixante-quinze ans, au mieux, je considère qu'elle correspond à cinq temps possibles de compagnonnages et d'histoire d'amitié avec un chien (d'un âge maximal au mieux de 15 ans)
Par conséquent, cinq longs temps de bonheurs nous sont donnés par la Nature pour que nous puissions bénéficier des bienfaits et de la compagnie de cet «animal», souvent bien plus «humain» et «gentil» ; hélas il faut bien l'avouer, que nombre de prétendus humains d'une cruauté inconnu dans la faune dite sauvage.
Nous allons demain et dans les jours qui viennent rechercher, un nouveau compagnon pour rester dans ce cycle de vie magique que je viens de vous révéler.
***
Notre chienne Cocker a déjà onze ans
Elle a parcouru onze ans de sa vie de Reine,
sans les soucis de l'étiquette et du labeur.
Notre chienne Laïka savoure sa quiétude,
mais se tient toujours près des valises et des sacs,
dès qu'elle observe un zéphyr de départ,
sa courte queue frétille devant sa laisse,
qu’elle prend dans sa gueule comme pour nous montrer le chemin,
car la « meute » doit se rendre ensemble sans jamais l'abandonner.
Ses deux pattes avec lesquelles elle se hisse sur les rebords de la table pour humer les plats.
Et son museau qu’elle love dans le coup de ta maîtresse pour lui signifier son amour.
Chère Laïka quand tes yeux attendrissants de cocker nous fixent je demande au Destin que tu puisses nous accompagner longtemps pour notre bonheur du présent et le demain de nos vies.
Seuls, ton museau blanchi et ta démarche moins vive, nous rappellent tes onze ans.
Paul Arrighi.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
the closed span of this month
spent furrowing through sleepless,
shuffling pages form walls, cycles of
break n' fix. waste of words. all
chance, all change. spent out.
there is, again, grand weight,
and, yeah, i've felt heavier. no
amount of lifting changes this,
though. drowning conversation.
leaving qualm. endowing closure,
coarsening topologies, maximal
saturation. finally, my rusted
thought process found ideal space.
or the delusion, at least.
meanwhile, the rain falls on, and
serves as reminder that this world is
built to dissolve & reassemble,
always permuting componency. &
all i want
is to be a reason
or some warmth, at least.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
Tramontane concoction
Alien's of different worlds
Consummate's of relations
A sinner boy and angel girl
First class textings
Between the two of them
Pastlife Amour's
Meeting again in love and best friends!!
Maximal feelings
She calleth a dangerous thing
Yet for eachother
Ourn hearts due flutter
Were two bees without the stings
Cryptic strings
Angelic harped
We seek the moon
And rest at parks
We are two
Yet one in spirit
Forgotten the world
Made poems our pearls
As her voice I draw to hear it!
Her *** appeal
So overriding all the rest
Yet the rest has none anyways
For its mine amare
Tis the best!!
She's not the rest
For that I know
I gaveth up the world
Gaveth her mine soul
For I hope she knows
How much for her I adore
She's that spice in ones head
When life's gone dead
She brings happiness to mine door!!!
Ive never felt this before!!!
And tis
I won't!!!
I shalt not leave her
Yes I do believe her
She's mine Spanish rose!
Mine Spanish queen
And Spaniard dream
Where ice creams stacked
And dripping cream
Sensuality means!!
She's high to me
A throne in glee
A song and tease
I seek her tree
To lie under it
To tasteth her spit
And **** her wine lips
To grasp her tones
To feel her hips
To pull her hair
One stroke at a time
To take a dive
Inside her mind
She maketh Me see
When I was blind
She turned back the clock
I forgot all time
For her I shine
For her I love
For her I'd die
Please
Dont cry
Mine amour
Of mine
Thou art so fine
In a life I never knew
Make me thine husband
Please break me through!!!
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
Back In America
I swear,
I’d give away every dollar I’ve ever made to charity,
if it would bring relief to the billions in need at the least,
and at the most I’d hope it could maybe contribute to world peace,
I’m back in America,
writing checks and feeling empty,
skin’s numb mind’s gone,
Death comes for everyone eventually…
Here,
have the American Dream with this beautiful house it’s turnkey…
Whoa,
it’s getting intense isn’t it,
but I guess,
it’s always been at least a little bit,
signing checks and paying taxes,
trying to balance,
on a world that’s off it’s axis,
pedal to the metal diesel by the gallons,
I.
Am.
A.
Machine.
and I swear the greatest compliment to any artist,
is that their work is something no one’s ever seen,
a defying gesture of difference,
a creation of something truly original,
a work of art that covers both sides,
both obviously brilliant and intelligently subliminal,
minimal,
maximal,
adjust,
your attitude,
this is Life,
you’re living it,
better be nice,
better be respectful,
hey you,
hello from the other side,
as far as I can tell you’re not Adele,
oh well we’re still gonna ride,
petal to the metal a Freak and a Fellow,
I’ve got it all I swear I’d give it all away,
become a lost prophet that’s lost all but the topic,
on point still so let’s get back to the point I must make,
money doesn’t buy morals,
and God of course is real,
so if you want to really be wealthy,
give more to charity so the hurt can heal,
I swear,
I’d give away every dollar I’ve ever made to charity,
if it would bring relief to the billions in need at the least,
and at the most I’d hope it could maybe contribute to world peace,
I’m back in America,
writing checks and feeling empty,
skin’s numb mind’s gone,
Death comes for everyone eventually…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
As if there's no tomorrow
I race in to the day
Yielding maximal joy
As the moments ebb away
As if the world is ending
And Armageddon begun
I frolic like a faerie
And pledge myself to Fun
As if this moment were the last
I yield to eternal delight
And behold the passion in loved ones
Blazing, burnished bright
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
I aged a small number of hours,
none the worse
since posting about Daylight Savings Time,
a radiant playful verse
teasingly succeeded against being terse,
a cogent tangential thread,
where passage of "time"
ranks front and center
this central theme constitutes cultish obsession
with vibrant youthfulness
as if senescence a crime imposed
(at birth) on every purse
son, thus a healthy and prominant grow wing
(nee bursting out all over)
market and cottage industries didst swing
into high gear (make that overdrive)
addressing telomeres shortcomings
justifies tamper ring
with chromosomal genes
to sustain bug eyed sales figures,
asper amazing grace full spy king
scales into the stratosphere,
with cosmetic surgeons *** ping
where, (particularly among
baby boomer generation)
appear younger looking than offspring
(albeit, whereat either gender undergoing
bust ting bosoms and tightening tushies)
to foster said tune, where billions of dollars
come into play, I haint joe king
this feeding frenzy removing without a trace
(of surgeon's needle) unsightly wrinkles,
stretch marks, blemishes, et cetera
(over a life time) fulfilling vanity
in the name of eternal quest to dupe biology
paying mega bucks postponing twilight/ evening
years not yielding to depredations when dotage
a stark reminder what natural aging doth bring
superficial (skin deep) transformations,
which cannot reboot major organs
allowing elderly to rock with van
halen again, since primary maximal apex
i.e. post adolescence/
early adulthood marked urban
boisterous antics, the tacitly accepted behavior,
that would appear down right foolish
as if elders played kick the can
if chronologically old geezers let Mother Nature
rightfully round up steering committee
gently rowing rickety ship of lovely bones
dutifully paying (chump change) to the bargeman.
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 8:17 PM UTC