MOMMA

Momma, I'm sorry
I'm sorry that your little boy isn't so little anymore
That he turned into this beast not even you can recognize

I'm sorry that instead of coming to you for help like you asked him to
He turned to the street and is now trapped behind three walls and some bars

I'm sorry that you had such high hopes for him
Only for him to turn around and let you down beyond your wildest dreams

I'm sorry that he hurt you so badly
I swear it wasn't his intention to do such a thing

So momma, I'm sorry

FATHER

Father, I blame you
I want to believe that you tried to be there for him
But please answer this where were you

Where were you when momma was crying in pain and agony
On her knees bleeding from her heart as her soul disintegrated

Where were you when momma lost her job
Forcing us to beg and cheat just so that we could have something to eat that night

Where were you when momma finally lost her mind to the darkness that tortured her
Causing her little boy to be motherless and symbolically hang himself

Where were you when the blood gushed from our shattered beings
When we could no longer take the continuous lashes life granted us

Where were you when we needed you
No where to be found and that's the truth

So father, I blame you

Veronika
Veronika
Jan 23

White jeep
That's where I hurt your head and you cried to your mum
The same one that my grandad crashed
The mafia wanted to exchange me for money
I didn't understand

I found a gun in the kitchen draw
It was pretty cool

And someone's wheels rode over my mums knee
They planned to throw her off the bridge
But she woke up  

And two men made an offer with two angry dogs on their side  
A deal went wrong and they took her dignity
Afterward they threw her on the steps like trash

Aaron La Lux
Aaron La Lux
Dec 25, 2016

Christmas in Queenstown


I’ll be the emotional martyr so hopefully you can learn from my written mistakes,
and you can find love settle down and make a family before it’s too late,
before you’re just another lonely broken hearted hopeless romantic,
that feels the most lonely on holidays…

I feel the most lonely on holidays,
I mean I feel lonely almost every day,
but especially on holidays,
I feel the most lonely on holidays,

I know it might not seem it,
but honestly I am the sentimental type,
especially on holidays,
like Easter mornings or Christmas nights,
except this sentimental sense,
usually leads me to depression,
because I have no real family to be with,
I guess that’s why my obsession with acceptance has no direction,
and my erection is only there for attention which creates tension,
which leads to extra sexual receptions by feminine tendons with no protection,
and the misconception that this is heaven leads to spiritual indigestion,
which progresses to regret when I try to repent then write these written confessions…

I confess,
I am a mess,
but also blessed,
so what the heck,

here I sit,
it’s Christmas eve,
I’m in Queenstown,
feeling like a king,

or at least was,
at one point in the evening,
before I met that whore,
and we made lust without any reasoning,

tis the seasoning,
this is the thieving,
of all progress from healing,
when I throw it all away for some sexual feelings,

no sexual healing,

feeding,
egos with libidos,
achieving,
nothing nada zero,

see I was on Church St.,
in Queenstown how ironic,
there is no salvation on this Church,
only drunken fools that seem demonic,
and ignorance,
that spreads like it’s bubonic,

no plague though,
just shaky legged hoes,

ho ho ho,
merry Christmas,
let’s go go go,
on and sin no forgiveness,

she seemed so sexy,
with that short cut shirt,
her belly button showing off,
flat stomach what a flirt,

I swooped in quick,
took her under my arm,
the winter wind was blowing,
it was cold I kept her warm,

took her to my car,
drove her to my place,
laid her down on my bed,
kissed her on her face,

taste,
like sugar and spice,
but this girl was all naughty,
nothing nice,
hair silver,
skin white,
she was as blond as they get,
and I’m totally into that type,

and what’d you expect,
from a girl from Finland,
white as a white Christmas,
but no Santa in this wonderland,

I wonder when,
I’ll find a way to escape these cliches,
when will I finally find a place,
where I can settle down and stay?

Anyways,

I poured some olive oil on her smooth stomach,
I rubbed her body eagerly,
she removed all her clothes,
fully exposed I was enjoying the scenery,

wanted to stay there,
to stretch out the moment,
but she was in a hurry,
so I undressed as well and got on it,

I gave her exactly what she wanted,
a ready erection and a bit of attention,
we made a sacred act and should’ve bonded,
but like I said before my obsession with acceptance has no direction,
and my erection is only there for attention which creates tension,
which leads to extra sexual receptions by feminine tendons with no protection,
and the misconception that this is heaven leads to spiritual indigestion,
which progresses to regret when I try to repent then write these written confessions…

I went in,
and once spent then,
I asked her one question,
“Please stay and show me at least a little affection.”,

see what is sex when,
it’s absent of expression,
and it’s just fornication and abjection,
and what should feel like acceptance simply feels like rejection,
and you’re laying there naked in all your imperfections,
feeling like a felon who’s deadliest weapon is inattention,
it’s assault but it’s not either of your faults because you’re both lethal weapons,
phantom figments of each other’s imaginations our oppressions building momentum,

until we both can’t take it any more and she just wants to leave after the deeds been done,
and we’re still laying on the bed but it feels like the floor oh well I guess tis the season then,

still I must ask even though I already know the answer,
I ask her to stay and she’s already getting up to leave,
so the asking turns into a plea because this feels like thievery in the first degree,
“please don’t leave not tonight for the love of God it’s Christmas eve!”,

and I told you before,

I feel the most lonely on holidays,
I mean I feel lonely almost every day,
but especially on holidays,
I feel the most lonely on holidays,

I know it might not seem it,
but honestly I am the sentimental type,
especially on holidays,
like Easter mornings or Christmas nights,
except this sentimental sense,
usually leads me to depression,
because I have no real family to be with,
I guess that’s why my obsession with acceptance has no direction,
and my erection is only there for attention which creates tension,
which leads to extra sexual receptions by feminine tendons with no protection,
and the misconception that this is heaven leads to spiritual indigestion,
which progresses to regret when I try to repent then write these written confessions,

so that these confessions will hopefully metamorphosize into lessons,
that others can learn from to prevent getting burned from other’s complexions of aggressions,
and escape from being the possession of their own misdirected intentions,
because cure is not as good as prevention and deflection is always better than correction,

hence when we are together it seems like destruction but when we’re apart it’s perfection,
because together we’ve all been through enough to fill an anthology of apologies no exceptions,
still I love all of these as in all of us because I find this mess so beautiful upon further reflection,
as all us broken hearted hopeless lovers just become footnotes in The Book of Love’s addendum…

And since we’re at the addendum,
I guess this is thee end then,
in other words,
this is Thee Ending.

Thee Ending.


∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

I'm not saying this is a true story... Because then you'd judge me...
V
V
Dec 11, 2016

Swollen eyes of sleep depreieve
With giant black bags underneath
Bright red cheeks huff and puff
Raggedly pained air that I breathe

Tear stains appear on my pillow each night
In dozens of crosshatched lines
But I drudge out of bed to wash them away
So that nobody knows they were mine

From here on out- I refuse to sleep
to be forced into nightmares again
Coffee and lights as my main support
Why should I worry my friends?

V
V
Jun 7, 2016

Your heart is there,
it's just on a different plane of existence
which is why only I can see it.
Our hearts live on the same level
of pain and secrets.

Words given to me
#love   #heart   #pain   #past   #reality   #lover   #tragic   #secrets   #truestory   #sadpoetry  
Jack
Jack
Nov 8, 2016

Drowning in an open bar reception,
You were more beautiful than I remembered.
It had been two years since I saw you for the last time, last time.
Some days, I barely thought about you at all.

Everything was different and nothing had changed.
You watched me from across the room and I pretended not to notice.
You passed me a note like we were in high school,
Do you like me, yes or no?

I told you that you were too good for me,
And hoped you wouldn’t believe it.
I wanted to stare into your eyes forever,
So all I could do was look away.

Without warning, you told me you loved me.
“I’ll find you in L.A.,” you said.
I knew better than to believe you,
But sometimes all we have is our dreams.

You moved like fire on the dance floor,
Forever ruining my favorite song.
You stole a kiss on the cheek,
And I pretended it didn’t break my heart.

We said goodbye for the last time, again.
Lying awake in my motel bed, I watched the clock roll back.
One more sleepless hour,
Still chasing that same old dream.

Aaron La Lux
Aaron La Lux
Oct 27, 2016

Met a man on the beach today,
saw him taking photos in the rising Sun's light,
asked him “Flora or Fauna”,
he replied with “Fauna”,

I approached,
he pointed out a bullfrog,
hidden amongst the reeds,
keeping cool in the Mekong's mud,

then he pointed out several lizards clinging to blades of grass,

the fact is that,
I never would have noticed these animals if he hadn’t pointed them out,

I guess sometimes we don’t see things right in front of us,
until we are shown them by others that are the wiser,
or at least that are more observant,
I observed him,

as he observed the animals our interaction continuing,

we walked,
down the the banks of the Mekong,
I showed him a carved artifact,
that I’d found washed up upon the beach,

there had been a series of storms lately,
which had led to floods,
which had led to the unearthing,
of artifacts that had been resting in their earthen beds for hundreds of years,

sometimes it takes a bit of turmoil to unearth that which is covered,
see just because something is covered doesn't mean it's not there,

anyways no matter where we go there we are,

and there we were in that morning rise of sun,
we walked closer to the rushing waters,
where the girl I was with had been observing,
me observing the man who was observing the Fauna,

the girl I was with asked the man casually,
“So man where are you from?”,
it's a common question amongst travelers,
but sometimes a very common thing can lead to something very rare,

He said he was from America and that he’d had enough of it,
he said the doctors had suggested open heart surgery and he was having none of it,
he said he was a Flower Child of the '60's a Vietnam Vet,
and had always had a “stick it to the man kinda attitude.”,

apparently he had heart disease,
caused by a clogging of his arteries,
not enough blood or not enough love or not enough what ever,
was reaching his still beating heart,

the doctors,
with there religious faith in Western Medicine,
warned him if he didn't go in for surgery,
that his early death would come for certain,

they gave him six months to live,
“gave” him like they are God,
like they can “give” life,
while predicting an early death like Death follows any mortals schedule,

no doctor can “give” life but they sure can take it away,

with their agnostic diagnostics and toxic antibiotics,
did you know that Mustard Gas is used in Chemotherapy?

Seriously.

So anyways he,
was diagnosed with heart disease,
given a six month life expectancy,
and told that his current state of being was in itself a medical emergency.

When he heard the news,
he made a conscious decision,
he flew to Laos to escape the 3 trillion dollar U.S. Medical Industry,
he decided he would rather die free than live in a hospitalized prison,

that was 4 years ago from the day we met and he's still alive and kicking,

now he lives amongst the Lao people,
building pipes and helping water flow,
kinda ironic honestly that as a result of his pipes being clogged,
he now helps pipes flow but I guess that's how it goes,

gravity fed springs and moments that are enlightening are both wonderful things.

I thought about help and about charity and about giving to others who may be in need,

and then I began to think,
as this man told his tale,
it’s better to die a free man,
than live in a hospital that’s turned into a jail,

no bail,
only one way out,
nobody gets out of here alive,
our body’s are maximum security penitentiaries,

and I understood exactly this mans Last Stand For Freedom,

he refused to be claimed be the hospital system,
he refused to be confined to a bed and fed through a tube,
he’d rather die happy and free taking photos on the Mekong,
have a heart attack and die taking a photo of a bullfrog,

his cardiac arrested onto his back he'd fall until he’s resting eyes up at the Heavens,

fading out like a saffron sunset upon the muddy waters flow,

no kids no wife no pets just him and his past he wants to die happy and alone,

alone as as we all are when we go,
and we all go one way or another whether Flora or Fauna,
I shook his hand thanked him for his insight then the girl and I left,
to continue on our Life's adventure…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

from The Holy Trilogy vol.1; available worldwide; 11/11/16 ∆

Another True Story...
Aesthete Flower
Aesthete Flower
Sep 9, 2016

It's strange how a few short seconds can lead you in a whole new direction,
It alters how you think and act and see your own reflection.
From a single moment on, my life was forever changed,
Like everything I previously knew had suddenly been rearranged.

No one will ever understand just how I felt that day,
But deep within this poem I shall try to convey.
I cannot even begin to illustrate the repulsive person I once knew.
I intend to simply express the horror that I went through.

I was abruptly pinned against the wall of a hard, rough concrete stairwell,
At two AM, in Hempstead, where not a soul was likely to dwell.
Suddenly I was captured, no possible way to escape.
Wondering if I deserved it, if it was truly my fate.

I tried to fly away, but my wings he had broke.
I was like an innocent cow, that he used to prod and poke.
My mind filled with confusion, and his filled with lust.
He took another part of me with each and every thrust.

Tears like elegant pearls gracefully danced down my face,
I peered into his soul with a firm look of disgrace.
His cold touch like a vacuum, sucking out the life in me.
His ears were wide open, but he wouldn't hear my plea.

Standing there in the night, so scared, so exposed.
I was covered by a veil of darkness, like satin petals of a rose.
The glowing moon looked down at me, peaking through a massive blanket of stars.
I could touch it; it seemed so close, but it was really oh so far.

Worse than at the doctor; he injected me with filth and dirt.
His intention was deliberate; it was very clear and overt.
It is a bit funny that a piece of scum is all he'll ever be,
And the only thing that he accomplished doing in life-is me.

Sometimes late at night I simply can't fall sleep,
Thinking about how my innocence is no longer mine to keep.
What some can only imagine in their worst possible nightmare,
Is my gruesome reality that can't be undone nor repaired.

I may have the sweetest smile, glowing between my nose and chin.
But only I know the truth about the deep secrets held within.
I may have the prettiest eyes that have seen more than they should,
And have cried more delicate tears than anyone else ever could.

I may have the kindest heart, but that came with a cost.
It has felt the worst of pains, and experienced the greatest loss.
I cannot change the past, an event to which I succumbed.
But I can focus on the present, and change what is to come.

We are all so different, and yet so much the same.
Everyone, in some way or another, will experience a kind of pain.
Everybody has things they wish not to recall,
Into each life some rain must fall.

Scattered throughout our lives, like a friend that is one of a kind,
Dreary days will steadily approach, bad memories trailing behind.
These dark days are necessary, just as important as the rest,
For if we didn't have the worst, we couldn't recognize the best.

This is a true story about a young girl, who trusted the wrong person, and ended up hurt.
#love   #truth   #sad   #girl   #hurt   #boy   #story   #hurting   #newyork   #truestory  
Breeze-Mist
Breeze-Mist
Aug 13, 2016

Sometimes the weather
Is a foe you can't beat.
The library just closed
"Due to excessive heat".

You know it's a hot day when it's too hot to keep the library open.
#hot   #weather   #truestory  
Breeze-Mist
Breeze-Mist
Aug 1, 2016

Some people say that mass shootings
Wouldn't happen if both sides had guns
They say that a vigilante crossfire
Can protect our nation's daughters and sons

To those people I will tell
A story told to me by my family
About a situation exactly like that
And what the true outcome would be

There was a woman, one of my cousins
From somewhere on my family tree
I've never met her, but my parents know her
And she is related to me

This young woman met a man
And eventually they were engaged
But what happened next definately was
Where things took a turn for the strange

See, my cousin decided to move four hours away
With her fiance once they were married
This would require her to change her job
And the responses to this were varied

In particular my cousin's boss
Had a rather bizarre objection
When she told him of this, he confessed
That, for her, he harbored an affection

My cousin, of course, moved anyways
Though she and her husband were very concerned
And they were shocked to find her boss stalking her
As into their lives he returned

So her husband went to the local sheriff
And told him what was happening
About how his wife's old boss followed them
To the point where it became maddening

The sheriff told him he would help
That he would look into what could be done
And he also said they'd be safer
If the man got himself a gun

So my cousin's husband did that
Learned how to fire a shot
Then one day the old boss met them
In an empty parking lot

The fighting escalated quickly
To tensions it had never reached before
The man pulled out his gun, and told his wife to run
Into the nearby Wal-Mart store

The boss had brought a gun as well
And this is the ending that I shall tell
A shot to the stomach and a shot to the head
By the end of the night, both men were dead

This story is actually (sadly) true. I've never met the cousin in person, but the older members of my family all know her. This story took place before I was born, but I always think about it when people say "both sides should've had guns!" in response to shootings.
 
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