A Little Bad & A Lot of Good

Sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good,

she wore no *******,
didn’t notice till we were already laying down,
Netflix and Chill,
it is real,

not a rumor,
it’s all real,
and as cliche as this sounds,
there’s nothing wrong with cliche,

live your life,
love your life,
live your love,
love alive,

sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good,

or so They say,
or so I say,
I am They,
be it as it may,

be us as we are,
see these scars,
they made me who I am,
both tender and hard,

pardon the reference,
there is no difference,
between you and me,
other than the infinite space of Everything,

sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good,

this is one of those random pieces,
without a subject or a pretense,
this is not about a place or person,
this is not about an emotion or an event,

this is just about expression,
in it’s purest form,
my belt is still unbuckled,
I am shirtless in bed with her,

she still wears no *******,
I still have no filter,
still writing everything,
as real and raw as ever,

because sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

www.amazon.com/Aaron-La-Lux/e/B00ODPJAOK

leap into love with me and meander across the meadow,
picking flowers as we go,
frolicking amongst the grass,
waltzing in the breeze

lay down amongst the daisies with me
resting peacefully beneath the trees
drift away with me,
our vision; a summer haze

descend into the depths of the dream land with me
lets elope and wander and search for our meaning
until then lets tiptoe around
searching for our next great adventure
of trees and smokes and midnight escapades
of daisy chains and good literature
of coffee and poetry
and true
love

(e.w)

engulfed by sadness
drowning in my own mind
i cannot bear this madness
my thoughts are so unkind

i am lost, alone, absent and gone
finding my way through this maze
the problems upon my shoulders,
weighing a ton

battling through,
staying afloat
the words from my mouth, all untrue
they scratch as i speak them, irritating my throat

all of my burdens, i am just so done
i give up; i cannot go on

i feel a strangeness in the air this winter
what do you call progress while standing still?
or growing inside the box?
is this what normal is meant to feel like?
cloudy skies
eyes
mind
i've lived a thousand eons in snow
and i fear the eve of my spring is farther still

Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics

Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high

Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis

Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics  
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation

Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation

Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity

Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra

I could not see the next summit,
the gashed gnarl of its face.
I guessed only that its steepening
inclines had been set against me.

I could hear all the echoings
of the dead in their ice-tombs
where their aims had led them
and buried them, then, deeper,

the incredible footfall
of sherpas, spirited, light
and deft, unbetraying. A silence
stretched on toward a night

long with unhuman testimony.
Then it came: the world-clearing
hammer-blows of distant avalanches,
the palpitations of chaos,

one whiteout of potentiality.
My tent fluttered and gripped
at the snow that stored for spring
all paths to the peak, leading

through veils of embraces,
inconsolable losses, charms,
fantastic indictments. Swelling
its stormfront, then collapsing

into a voice like winter, the wind
took up a human song and broke
across the horizons. It sang,
'You are an unborn fjord,

a chasm yet to be. Only water
sculpts its beauty: let it pass.
Throw no harness over the clouds,
they hold no secrets, but are.

Here, while you plan your ascent
each night, exalting the fey,
the indolent, the totemic, you are
like a thief on a watchtower.

Until every such night has passed
you will light, tend, and watch die
a small, tense fire, but awake
surrounded by footprints.'