"ohms" poems
loathe — july 17, 2013
reëstablish the current which made being whole
no, not just in another life since fragmented whole is nothing tethered to the waist. that’s what belts are for. if you say so
monitor it like
you would anywhere
the trajectory is clear : light the torch of multi-orbed sensation
where we wait on the cusp
of the whole
perhaps in another life, we dare to suggest it. i don’t dare. if i did, i would consider myself a pigment of this pallet
i don’t breathe limited expectation
scientific claims
they’re just as good as dead to me. perhaps the whole can be related and consume our progress. there is too much to see. too little methods
methodic function isn’t perfunctory yet. a push is required. jumpstarting will only cause sparks.
i know something better
so sit down and move to the right. the light’s blocking my view and i cannot surmise unless i’m granted a complete oversight. nothing backseat, because we all know
that is reductive
paint splatters on my face
i
am
frozen
the colors reimage our complexion and erase the mistakes until we are whole
[ uncertainty is the new guarantee ]
introspection is a form by which we do so. everything we see is incomplete. our eyes need to be adjusted
to the [ uncertain ]
adore — july 29 , 2013
black blue strata pillars spruces flutes
eclectic aftermath debris snaffle pop
chute-in whelked chrome lugubrious
lifeblood : trans yes mutate pro-ohms
in timehalts wyoming woodsmoke
screened scans : rancid gemini rotors
hulks histories back - lying supine arts
( please remind me to act regimentally )
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
"my day will be different today"
she declares, when she sees herself hidden in
in a passing spending and breaking broken
drive-by scribbled-pretend, urgent poem,
stumbled upon by a heavenly calculated accident
gladdened, saddened. now dressed to the nines,
that piece of me, wherever it be, the parade ground,
where the words and letters assemble,
where the firemen train,
adding logs, love, accursed ego,
to the hearth,
steady on burning, to practice putting out the
ohms and uh-uh's
of electrical resistance that
your response, a shiny knife of a self-reflecting observation
has...ho ** **
sparkling stabbing mirror
this one, a simple script, a written pyramid,
built by an Israelite, who by command, perforce
mustn't but does write prophecies
that may or may not come to being,
poem pyramids,
surely none will not survive Darius's desert sandstorms
ravaging kisses of time's forgetting
but your simple complementation
fits inside quite nicely, for its simplicity,
because it is a
provocation stabbing piercing a self-questioning, of
why to write I need pen paper and ink,
and don't forget those stupid teardrops in the clear vial
the Zola j'accuse
of every poet, even the gone-ones,
looking down
at highest bar in poetry!
did I really do that?
even for a brief moment,
a nanosecond,
me words
modify the entire continental shelf
that another writer occupies,
change its axis, the rate of spin,
the angle of another's
solitary human's day
nah
all i did was read (all) her poetry, imaging imaginng
a life so foreign, putting me inside of thee, and
let my stubs, the remains of worn fingers do the rest
so I guess it could be true
what you wrote,
but about me
"my day will be different today"
and why I practice this
wonderfully ridiculous
craft,
cause the pay is so
**** good
10:36am
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
Tea With Yoda [50]
Having a Tea Ceremony,
with Yoda in a pagoda,
they say life’s a ladder,
He says it’s more like a totem,
trying to make ends meet for ends meat,
by exceeding expectations & meeting quotas,
trying to make my six senses see as clear as my mentor’s,
a Sensi with stressless sensibilities yet infinite responsibilities,
He’s a mature mixture of past scriptures & vast futures,
the perfect fusion to provide ideal solutions effectively,
to dispel all of the confusing illusions that currently occur,
so that my six senses can make sense of it & see clearly,
& that’s exactly why I’m grateful He’s my mentor,
I clear my mind when I enter his temple & listen attentively,
He’s Mr. Miyagi, Professor X, Stephen Miles, Morpheus,
Gandalf, Splinter, & Obi Wan, all rolled into one,
His composition is awesome so when taking lessons,
I make sure to be free of all distractions going on,
attempting to not take meetings yet people keep calling,
but phone’s off so I don’t see nor take note of the notifications,
I just go off like a boat on the edge of Niagara with no motor,
got expense taste life’s great though no time to be wasting,
gotta find a way to keep speed without delay & without haste,
because patience is key but time won’t wait,
so I stay totally outta touch with the clubs & the whole scene,
so focused I don’t even notice those overblown cokeheads,
light so bright that I’m always getting it in even when I go out,
light always burns but never burns out even at it’s lowest,
heard them mention a question but didn’t return the gesture,
was unsure of their motives plus the question sounded loaded,
goin' all in outta control only thing I limit is my exposure,
on balance with my talents in a pair of New Balances,
meanwhile they’re still trying to gain their composure,
I swear to God I’m not a rock nor in a hard place,
but I do rock Ohms on mountain tops complete with boulders,
shout out to Colorado though I boast low key so no bravado,
soul sans ego, modest & honest like a Buffalo Soldier,
no need to buy game it’s already in the bag sewed close,
& I’m relaxed shoes off spine upright aligned in the Lotus,
having a Tea Ceremony, with Yoda in a pagoda,
having a Tea Ceremony, with Yoda in a pagoda,
they say life’s a ladder, He says it’s more like a totem,
trying to make ends meet for ends meat,
by exceeding expectations & meeting quotas…
∆ LaLux ∆
@aaronlalux
from THHT3: Dark Lights & Bright Shadows 9/9/19
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 5:12 PM UTC
I don't really care about Ohms law
But I'm more so amazed at how you seem to have no flaw
At all
I sit and I wonder in my physics class if
The refractive index of glass can explain to me
Why everything I think or see is you
And it seems like not even specific heat capacity
Or the equations of motion
Can break the spell or undo the potion
You have placed on me.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
Oh, sweet child of the light,
Your wisdom shines on through
The hum of a million Ohms,
Coursing through your fibers
Bouncing through the universe like
Shooting stars, they collide.
Power and beauty you behold,
Beams of light surround you
No constraints on your will
But will they medicate you into submission?
Or shall you meditate for awhile?
What is your mission?
Oh, sweet child of the light,
You’ve been here before
I can see forever in your eyes.
1/14/2016
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
Being made,
When
One ***** of light
Hums through opaque blight
To unite with excitable ground
Reminds me,
How
Creation needs
Destruction to feed
Buried seedlings the freedom to hear
Ground afar
Where
Stars echo home.
A blue catacomb
Sings in ohms, radio moans, being made.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
No tears creep down my cheek,
Am I some sort of freak
Why can't I get this pain past my teeth
Must I pull this dagger from it's sheath
To sink it deep
So I can sleep
Visit heaven and hell
Until I hear the morning bell
Pulling me from dream
To hot steam
Washing away the bad memories
At school they throw questions like Jeopardy
Stuck in this small desk
Taking another useless test
Another bell rings I'm out the door
Walk down the streets past the poor
I drop my mask
Is my life just a list of tasks
Finally stumbling home
Just to study ohms
Am I just another nations clone
Am I afraid to die alone
No tears creep
I am a freak
Must this pain stay in my chest
Will this dagger sink into flesh
So I can finally rest
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
I.
If in your lifetime,
You don’t want to watch the world
Deteriorate,
You have the right to abstain.
If you are with anything left to lose,
You can’t believe
Government isn’t to blame.
II.
If an artist,
sees for the sake of art,
If an artist and partner,
See for the art of growing,
If an artist and seeker
Of truth and shelter grow weary,
If an artist and liar
Sit long by the fire outside the growing
Thunder, lightning hissing
Booing down from the balcony
Onto the stage,
Rising from the artist’s grave,
If you’re still watching,
Listen.
III.
Many delicate things have you
Smashed without noticing.
My clumsy hands give
Everything to hold some one thing
Dearly.
If trembling,
Shaking, Dropping,
Casting brutish shadows they offended,
Smashed aloof and nought is mended,
.........What the **** you liar
Call me sometime, so long, after all.
If you’ve not clumsy hands, my friends,
Please, stay on hold for ohms, amens.
Many more delicate things will smash,
No one noticing.
IV.
What’s the most beautiful thing in this world?
All such things, in this beautiful world,
Might remain very subjective.
But if I code an experience into a thing,
Tchaikovsky’s siren with her strings,
In the sea beside the shore,
1812 cannons’ overture,
Bellini’s casta diva’s love,
Cecelia’s colors lofted
From Sevilla to St. Petersburg...
But my love, the truth in this
Most beautiful blasting world,
This sure subjective silent bliss,
This moment, present,
Setting sun, holding your beautiful hand:
Our kiss.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 8:02 AM UTC