XV. TO HERACLES THE LION-HEARTED (9 lines)

(ll. 1-8) I will sing of Heracles, the son of Zeus and much the
mightiest of men on earth.  Alcmena bare him in Thebes, the city
of lovely dances, when the dark-clouded Son of Cronos had lain
with her.  Once he used to wander over unmeasured tracts of land
and sea at the bidding of King Eurystheus, and himself did many
deeds of violence and endured many; but now he lives happily in
the glorious home of snowy Olympus, and has neat-ankled **** for
his wife.

(l. 9) Hail, lord, son of Zeus!  Give me success and prosperity.

Each is alone in the world
and on some the flowers
are of one *** only
they stand as though they had no secrets
and one by one the flowers emerge from the sheaths
into the air
where the other flowers are
it happens in silence except for the wind
often it happens in the dark
with the earth carrying the sound of water
most of the flowers themselves are small and green by day
and only a few are fragrant
but in time the fruits are beautiful
and later still their children
whether they are seen or not
many of the fruits are no larger than peas
but some are like brains of black marble
and some have more than one seed inside them
some are full of milk of one taste or another
and on a number of them there is a writing
from long before speech
and the children resemble each other
with the same family preference
for shade when young
in which colors deepen
and the same family liking for water
and warmth
and each family deals with the wind in its own way
and with the sun and the water
some of the leaves are crystals others are stars
some are bows some are bridges and some
are hands
in a world without hands
they know of each other first from themselves
some are fond of limestone and a few cling to high cliffs
they learn from the splashing water
and the falling water and the wind
much later the elephant
will learn from them
the muscles will learn from their shadows
ears will begin to hear in them
the sound of water
and heads will float like black nutshells
on an unmeasured ocean neither rising nor falling
to be held up at last and named for the sea

Uncharmable charmer
Of Bacchus and Mars
In the sounding rebounding
Abyss of the stars!
O ****** in armour,
Thine arrows unsling
In the brilliant resilient
First rays of the spring!

By the force of the fashion
Of love, when I broke
Through the shroud, through the cloud,
Through the storm, through the smoke,
To the mountain of passion
Volcanic that woke ---
By the rage of the mage
I invoke, I invoke!

By the midnight of madness: -
The lone-lying sea,
The swoon of the moon,
Your swoon into me,
The sentinel sadness
Of cliff-clinging pine,
That night of delight
You were mine, you were mine!

You were mine, O my saint,
My maiden, my mate,
By the might of the right
Of the night of our fate.
Though I fall, though I faint,
Though I char, though I choke,
By the hour of our power
I invoke, I invoke!

By the mystical union
Of fairy and faun,
Unspoken, unbroken -
The dust to the dawn! -
A secret communion
Unmeasured, unsung,
The listless, resistless,
Tumultuous tongue! -

O ****** in armour,
Thine arrows unsling,
In the brilliant resilient
First rays of the spring!
No Godhead could charm her,
But manhood awoke -
O fiery Valkyrie,
I invoke, I invoke!

I'm just a miserable bunch of quantum field excitations. A bag of bags of quarks. And so's my truck.

I was entangled with a gal, but things went South. We're still ensnared— unmeasured and immeasurable with no divorce.

Dark energy, dark matter, dark thoughts-- I'll go to the dark side and jump in a black hole.

That'll teach you,  bit....   [loss of signal]

Know, that I would accounted be
True brother of a company
That sang, to sweeten Ireland's wrong,
Ballad and story, rann and song;
Nor be I any less of them,
Because the red-rose-bordered hem
Of her, whose history began
Before God made the angelic clan,
Trails all about the written page.
When Time began to rant and rage
The measure of her flying feet
Made Ireland's heart hegin to beat;
And Time bade all his candles flare
To light a measure here and there;
And may the thoughts of Ireland brood
Upon a measured guietude.
Nor may I less be counted one
With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,
Because, to him who ponders well,
My rhymes more than their rhyming tell
Of things discovered in the deep,
Where only body's laid asleep.
For the elemental creatures go
About my table to and fro,
That hurry from unmeasured mind
To rant and rage in flood and wind,
Yet he who treads in measured ways
May surely barter gaze for gaze.
Man ever journeys on with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
Ah, faerics, dancing under the moon,
A Druid land, a Druid tune!
While still I may, I write for you
The love I lived, the dream I knew.
From our birthday, until we die,
Is but the winking of an eye;
And we, our singing and our love,
What measurer Time has lit above,
And all benighted things that go
About my table to and fro,
Are passing on to where may be,
In truth's consuming ecstasy,
No place for love and dream at all;
For God goes by with white footfall.
I cast my heart into my rhymes,
That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.

No Judgements [37]

Judgements,
judged upon men,
judgements,
cast upon him,
assumptions,
cast a wide net,
haven't we realized yet,
that if he without sin,
shall cast the first stone,
then obviously,
no stones shall ever be thrown.

We've all sinned so who are you to judge the actions of another mortal man?

Judgements,
judged upon men,
what is sin,
where is that line,
& how does one know,
they’ve crossed it once they've crossed it?

What's the difference between ingenuity & insanity,
between those that have it together & those that have lost it?

Only difference between a Genius & a Mad Man,
is one is more successful than the other in society,
one made a way to express their insanity in the form of productive creativity,
while the other finds communicating effectively to be an impossibility.

Possibly there is no such thing as sanity,
possibly there's no such thing as individual things,
possibly there's only one & we're all part of The Mandala,
possibly there is nothing at all except everything.

I mean,

What is Good?

What is Evil?

What are Blessings?

What are Curses?

Where do we define these fine lines,
& if we do define these lines where are these lines defined & who can say,
& how can we have divisions within the different religions,
when all of everything & everyone is just One with The Divine anyways?

Anyways,
until we make up our minds I'll just continue to write these lines upon lines,
writing lines on lines,
to try & define the Divine of this present point in time,

I write lines between lines,
so when you read between the lines,
of the lines written with lines you’ll eventually find,
that in order to find your Self you must first lose your Mind,

listen in order to feed your Soul you must first starve your Ego,
you are not who you think you are so just let your idea of your Self go,

let no line no matter how fine or well refined,
come between you your design & your connection with The Divine.

I’m,
attempting to explain the unexplainable line by line,
please have some patience because translating something ancient takes time,
& yes enlightenment is elusive but it is attainable if you just take your time,

it just takes exercising your virtues,
it just takes holding onto your morals,
it just takes letting go of your sins,
it just takes letting go of your judgements,

no need to pinch your penchants,
or itch your itching,
let go of your wants let go of your desires,
let go of your hopes & all of your selfish wishings,

there’s an abundance of loveness,
& you’ll get it all if you just start giving,
there's love yes & Love, yes, to be one with the Oneness,
you must confess then forgive your sinning & forget all your misgivings,

along with forgiving all the rest of our Collective's wicked shortcomings,

give up on giving in to their terror of errors,
& instead give love & hugs & start living as a radiant personal public prayer,

one word at a time word for word verse by verse layer after layer,
attempting to explain in measured frames the pain & the pleasure,
the spirals in this ****** cycle of survival commonly known as Samsara,
this alliance of violence & gestures from aggressors that'll continue forever,
until we alleviate the pressure from the oppressors by correcting our karma,
with the power of positive energy which when measured together,
will overcome all oppressors with gestures of open-ended pleasure,
as we become Treasures of Unmeasured Tremors in Splendor,
Senders of Centers of Lovers not tempered by the spectrum of gender,
The Bearers of Stellar Nectar straight from The Creator,
the entire Light Spectrum that comes from us Interstellar Specters,
plus every other thing & soul that’s breathing in this entire epic adventure,

as we embark,
on this endeavor together from then till now till forever,

but just when I start,
to think it’s all going to get better,
& I start to repent & give thanks to The Inventor,
I find myself sink back into the lair of Sin & Terror,
that place where we are hastily judged biasly by our errors,
& all our accomplishments are overlooked,
just because of a few miscalculated risks that we mistakingly took,
& all of our merits seem to be in vain & we feel shook like moral crooks,

because it seems we messed up once more are deemed ******,
instantly judged discriminately & forced to repeat the whole cycle again!

Judgements,
judged upon men,
judgements,
cast upon him,
assumptions,
cast a wide net,
haven't we realized yet,
that if he without sin,
shall cast the first stone,
then obviously,
no stones shall ever be thrown.

We've all sinned so who are you to judge the actions of another mortal man?

Judgements,
judged upon men,
what is sin,
where is that line,
& how does one know,
they’ve crossed it once they've crossed it?

Judgements,
judged upon men,
what is sin,
where is that line,
& how does one know,
they’ve crossed it once they've crossed it?

What's the difference between ingenuity & insanity,
between those that have it together & those that have lost it?

See,
just when I think I’ve lost it,
I find judgement,
in the form of the Self imagined Sins of this Prophet,

sure,
I am not pure,
none of us are,
never will be nor were,

but we’re,
human beings,
being human,
just as we are & were,

so,
naturally we make some mistakes along the way,
&,
naturally we take each phase case by case stage by stage,

see we are all our own worst critics,
we are all our own harshest judge jury & executioner,
citizen’s self arrested mid-sentence while in progressive development,
which in turn then threatens to take all of our merits in forfeiture,
as the fat lady sings the gavel is hit,
we're sentenced but still we don't seem to be any closer to closure,

for us or for them or for him or for her,
because the jury’s still hung,
even when everyone’s gone home,
& the cage bird as well as the fat lady has already sung,

some,
times I’m,
wishing I could escape,
out of these self projected personal persecutions,

some,
times I’m,
wishing I could escape the spiritual surgery that these perjurious clergies, attempt to perform on me by inserting their ideals into me by way of intrusion,

some,
times I'm,
wishing I could be an explosion of pure Light,
infinitely expanding into the infinity of The Divine inclusions,

instantly a Super Nova,
riding the high seas like Noah,
instantly I see how beautiful & innocent you are in your confusion,

instantly I see how beautiful & innocent I am as well,
how beautiful & innocent we all are,
& how even just to be living in this miracle called Life,
is honestly a proper privilege, a true pleasure, & real honor,

it's an honor to be here & make your acquaintance,
so why waste time with biased judgements that're made with impatience?

See usually,
assumptions aren’t worth the bother,
see we’ve all had trials & tribulations in this hard life,
so we all deserve to treat & be treated a little bit softer & with more honor.

So let me be the first to say I honor you,
& I honor your magnificent existence in every way.

I Love You,
there is no higher truth,
please there is no need to judge me,
for I promise I will never ever judge you.

I love you,
so much,
& when you love someone this much,
there is no time or room to judge.

I love you,
so much,
always have, always will, it's always love,
I'll never stab, never ****, & will never judge,

I love your every atom,
ethereal I wonder if you are even real,
either way you're real enough to me,
to still have feelings & to still feel,

love.

Love?

Some,
times we must,
trust enough to break our own rules,
to,
realize that,
actually there are no rules,

we are all free,
we are all gifted,
we are all cursed,
we are all art we are all artist,
we are all dead last & alive first,
we are all everything that’s never been,
we are all everything that ever was & ever were as you were,
& of course we are all of everything in every sense of the word,
we are every story ever told we are every song ever sung or heard,
we're every word in every book ever read we're every line in every verse,
& we often leave last & arrive first arriving in a Benz & leaving in a hearse,
& we will be love non stop & always help heal each other even when it hurts,

& that is why,
I write all of this for you,
because when the world feels like a lie,
I need you to know you can always reach for these words & feel the truth,

prove,
nothing,
just move,
something,

& do anything,

& do it for the love,
just please don’t hate,
& please don’t judge,
because this is true love,

as it be below so it be above.

So let’s move with the movements & love the moments of love,
let’s let the judgements pass & let whatever lays in the past be what it was,
left to lay in the grass that way once everything’s been said & done,
we’ll still have this emotional epitaph to remind us like a photograph of us,

& I will always have your back,
even when our bodies are gone & we have no backs to have because,
when it's all said & done & we've righted all our wrongs,
all that will be left is us,

when it’s all over all you’ll be left with is you,
& me & all of our virtues because death doesn't separate us from our virtues,
& everyone & everything we loved will exist eternally except our enemies,
& in the end my friend you’ll I'm standing in the Light of Truth with you,

so,
no judgements,
no enemies,
only unconditional love,
& all of it’s intensities,

no,
judgements,
for once you remove the obstruction of the illusion of judgements,
only then will you find where the love went,

here,

waiting,
patiently for you to return,
so remember we reap what we sow,
& we get what we earn,

so no no worries & no hurries,
no stress all bless for sure,
& don't worry Love no rush because I will be here,
always have always will waiting patiently for your glorious return…

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆

from The Holy Trilogy Vol. 2: Mandalas
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1721134158

Everything, and everyone has a price; however, most bills are overdue. I have put myself in every situation necessary to gain opportunities. To those opportunities, I throw in a bid. To those bids, I place an unmeasured but respectable effort. This bill is still due. The ladder will be climbed. The plateau will be reached: Gaining and assigning costs. Sadly, where I cannot help but stumble, and never collect, I tread. As I walk, the soppy mud pulls down at my heals. There is no exit aside from the direction I came.

This is Pursuit.

I can name heroes, such as Alvin C York, who gave up the pen and took up a rifle, leading 100’s of men through respect and fear. I read that he was a teacher that volunteered for the first World War and captured over 130 men single handed. I can work canned equations that will tell me the declining chances as the hours near closing in my office that my phone will ring. I can cite tax regulation in context to a very defined, specialized and rarely referenced subject matter. I can draw on these lessons the way a craftsman draws his tool belt; I cannot explain hours spent or define with any reason one subject matter.

This is Woman.

Far more time is wasted than spent, yet somewhere, somehow, collected. I’ve spent on the perfect screens to distract myself from this fact alone. Most men do not chase a dream they have not experienced; ignorance is bliss. Within men that try, dressing as casual as one can afford and resting their beaten hands on electronic controllers, one may find a survivor. This man will climb blindly, because he has only ever know spending. He will spend blood, sweat, tears and time to never be vulnerable. The act of collecting becomes nothing more than the means to spending, and he will never let be.

This is Myself.

I have turned off the news. I have separated ways with those that need to surpass trivial, arbitrary hurdles. I will spend down on screens no longer. I have stopped broadcasting the news. I can feel myself exiting society. Like many men before me, I have begun to pack my bags for checkout. There is no blame. There is no hate. There is no expectation. Dreams. Goals. Responsibilities. A man cannot live on food and shelter alone. He cannot pick up discarded pieces of society that are not worth their weight. This man cannot die for anyone that would not live for him.

This is My Decree.

Signed,

Without Notoriety

I was on the way to pick her up,
was just about to cross a slippery *****
on the front yard of my in-laws’ home.
Forget how long it took me to cross,
Huh, I had to solve a riddle.
A Moon pops up halfway through,
right in my way, it just won’t move.

I said I don’t need any horoscope,
already married, I am not a groom!
She goes, I too don’t fancy fussing about.
The riddle I got is only an easy-peasy one.
Just tell me your W duo—Where and When
did you take your first breath?
I laugh, isn't it the mum who can tell best,
who saw it first when I was born
but I can't go back and ask her,
she won’t show up
unless I return home, picking her up.

I said to the moon, o dear,
never did I say you got a scar,
that a spot on your face is cute, fair,
is only a cool shadow of one’s
deep-rooted fine lock of hair!

I then ran to the expert scientist.
He said it’s all vibrating but knows not
where the heck, if ever the spin might stop.
Again I ran to knock on the Sufi’s door.
He seemed to know why I went there,
And said in a deep voice, “as far as I know,
you don’t have a sister-in-law!”

Again the moon asks, in a heavy tone
“Tell me the truth,” before it's too long,
I said you’re in my way,
“I am not asking for an acre of moon.
Spare me a digit gap if you could.”

Unlike how the lands on earth, she tells,
keep changing the hands,
owning the ultimate plot is still one’s dream.
But no space is left unmeasured in space.
You miss by a hairbreadth, no matter how tiny,
and you might as well miss it by the eternity.

So zero space can I spare says the moon
This is it, the dead end, no more room to move.
Still, even a closed circle can’t be close,
the smallest atom is not the smallest to be closed.
The constant spin inside it constantly finds
ever more space to move on, because the root
pi is cracked open, spills out a new decimal,
though none can pinpoint, in this finest loophole
the sky can sway and earth finds a mouth to jingle!

sweet teathers
so swift to stake
the hair, staying twixt
my throb and zoned fake

a deed unmeasured
so gifted a debate
to love a light to vulture-
breath, the bread of lines,
of the beating of a ruptured quake

1/18/09