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M R White Feb 2020
At times I fear I am just like my mother,
Irresponsible, corrupt, deceiving.
Going no where – fast.
Gathering too much of the bad genes in my body.
They range from,
Alcoholism,
Being dependent on any type of pill,
To being with controlling a spouse.
I have never seen my mother with a man that was good for her.
This is another looming fear, being under the thumb of controlling men.
I think things like that run down the bloodline.
It’s all I have seen as a kid,
A man has to be controlling to really be in love with you,
A man has to put you in your place to show you he cares,
A man has to fully support you,
strip you of anyway of being independent;
because that is love.  
It is scary, and you yield many red flags.
But something in me finds beauty in it.
I know this is horribly sick, I know this isn’t right.
But something about the fight, is so beautiful.
When you tell me I mean the world to you,
I believe it, I do.
But something else looms over my head.
And I’m not quite sure what it is,
but it is quiet and sly.
This is what I fear what my mother felt,
A looming fear over her head, not even realizing the weight.
This is what draws me in, I feel myself reeling closer, and closer
to this unsettling, but secure feeling.
A promise of a beautiful land to live on,
with a beautiful family and wonderful home.
A promise of a great life, but at what cost?
My own father? My family?
It seems odd that you would want to strip me of the man that raised me,
the man that molded me.
Of everyone near me that I have grown close to through the years.
Odd that you want to be my one and only.
Quite literally.
But something is so intriguing about you.
I can not help but tell myself that you are the one.
But again, at what cost?
This is my biggest fear, I do not want to inherit this gene from my mother.
I do not want the gene, of having
every aspect of my life needing to be controlled.
To be solely reliant on one human being,
and it not even be myself.
That is my fear.
To be merely dependent on you.
I love you, I love you so much.
And that is my fear, loving you more than myself.
And putting all my life on the back burner to please you.
I beg of you,
do not be that man.
Your envy is green as a sly snake, and it is evil.
And your anger, my god your anger, it is red as the devils horns.
But,
your love, compassion, and sensitivity,
is as warm and pink as the act of love making.
And love trumps all, does it not?
Your envy may be green, and anger red.
But your love is what makes me feel whole.
I love you, and understand,
I will give you all of me.
As long as it does not drain me.
God's Oracle Jan 2020
My contemporary stance to regain a grip on my Daily struggle to deal with Life's problems with a sober conscious is becoming a nuisance due to the fact I keep running away to use drugs so I can deal with time on time's slow flow of ride of passage. Am becoming a more cunning, manipulative, maladapted individual since deep down it hurts to say I am happy being a functional drug user...but this is a double load of struggle because I want someone to sometimes make me feel like I matter and that I am someone to someone else and that I can fight thru my devilish impulses to intoxicate my system. I am becoming mentally irritated with the constant thought to self-medicate and slide by Life with a morbid addiction and I do admit DEFEAT to this substances and lifestyle but why can't I get the motivation to dedicate my time in investing in sobriety? I truly need to take a hard look at why am still escaping my problems and why am still making the wrong decisions and choosing the easy way out with not dealing with my feelings and emotions in a healthy manner. Frankly, I want to quit using drugs at some point in my life but am having trouble abstaining from drug use at the current moment because I do truly love to alleviate all my mental disorder symptoms and enjoy the feeling of calmness and stillness of all my chemical imbalances seeming as if every time I choose to use I am put in a balance within my brain. Nevertheless, I have realized that using drugs does NOT cure me but make things worse in the long run. Suppressed by old whispers from my younger days when I used to use without getting addicted but now this substances have grown on me and I have become an addict to a degree. Sometimes I ponder in thought and imagine myself in front of God's throne pleading my cause like a rugged beggar to be heard by the Most High and all I want is a way out a way of escape from my drug use...Please Lord am at my end I want the struggle to stop...I admit I need your aid guidance and healing let this poem be heard for all I am asking is your saving grace and deliverance. In Jesus name Amen!
My solemn desire to be clean for 2020.
I'm addicted to writing,
My feelings, my thoughts.
not only writing poems,
but letters and stories.
Pen and paper,
Computer and keyboard,
marker and board,
anything but,
I'll always need more.
has nothing to do with stuffing except the last line lol.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
Remember Your Self [3]

I don’t write because I want to, it’s not exactly pleasurable,
I write because I have to, it’s an addiction, it’s compulsory,
I write because someone’s got to document the events of us,
& our experiences in the collective epoch in this living history,

this whirlwind life that’s such a rush of blurs it’s obscured,
especially in a place as stimulating as Hollywood,
where it’s all too easy to get lost in the intoxicating limelights,
especially when ego strokes are handed out free-of-charge,
expensive tastes are paid, constant cheap thrills are supplied,
there’s an open bar complete with complimentary bottles,
models that’re gorgeous, fortunes that’s enormous sized,
inside are pop chart artists, lots of toxins for thirsty nostrils,
plus encore nights, because you always get the hottest invites,
to the most exclusive events to party with American idols,

but in the sauce of all that awesomeness,
try not to forget yourself & get lost in it,
see Hollywood can certainly be good for your ego,
but can also be bad for your health & often is,

Hollywood,
where people don’t care who you are, only what you are,

Hollywood,
where people only care about you as long as it feeds their ego,
even though one must starve the ego to feed the soul,
they should know, you must starve the ego to feed the soul.

Though it seems these days we’ve got it all backwards,
we feed the ego while starving the soul,
see these superficial feelings are only emotional actors,
our selves are the stage & they’re just playing their roles,

kinda like when you think it’s me that you’re holding,
but in reality it’s just my body it’s not my soul you hold,

oh I’m first to admit I see all of this, but I’m not an Apologist,
so I don’t apologize, see I’m an Emotional Anthropologist,
so I write words with no apologies to try & describe all of this,
for all of us in the form of Poetic Literary Ambiance Lists,

I write these soulful love letters, to our future past selves,
so hopefully we can remember to remember the memories,
& in turn remember remember our selves,
& that’s why I write these literary anthropologies,

I don’t write because I want to, it’s not exactly pleasurable,
I write because I have to, it’s an addiction, it’s compulsory,
I write because someone’s got to document the events of us,
& our experiences in the collective epoch in this living history..

∆ LaLux ∆

from THHT3: The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy vol. 3
available worldwide 9/9/19
Marie Jul 2019
'One spliff a day'
I decided.

Everything has a balance.
there is a give and take in all we do

a little bit of this
                                                            ­                                a little bit of that

But we all have addictions

And balance is hard to achieve

The lady that goes running in the heat of the day
The man that pumps weights for hours on end
My friend who parties to forget
Me, when I'm thinking of you

                                 Balance cannot exist here
                                 Where people are hurting

              And that is why I'm on the third smoke of the morning
              And my friend wakes up hungover, but continues drinking
              And the man aches, but pushes through to finally feel good
              And the lady becomes lightheaded, yet runs faster.

Give a lot,                                    get little.
Madeleine Apr 2019
Comes in many forms
From Harmless to dangerous
Sometimes even death
Star BG Feb 2018
Its lusts sweet drug
under sheets aching for a warm heart
that feeds the addiction.

Feverous passions
lights up darken night
when breath aligns with another.

Temperatures rise
in moments that cause instincts
to take control.

Its loves sweet drug
that gives moments of serenity
a chance to anchor.

And the drug that I shall be addicted to forever
started it a while ago and just decided to finish it. :)
Jasmine Reid Oct 2018
Swallowing pills
                            again
                         ­              &
                                           again
Trying my best to get high again on the feeling, drugging myself up to remember the feeling of your lips, your warm touch, and inhale your deodorant, that succulent scent.

I want to be sleepless, and think in the night. And be happy, or sad, either one works
But I guess I just want to remember I’m alive

Happy,
             Sad,
                     Nostalgia that drains me, happy memories turning into sour nightly thoughts.

I think of the dark night sky, and I thought there was once stars in your eyes, yes, maybe.

You made me higher than I’d ever been, and I miss you my dear dear happy pill
Druggo right here, am I right?
Aaron LaLux Sep 2018
Don’t know how it started,
or if it’ll ever end,
some call it Samsara,
others call it trends,

watched a video on YouTube,
Mac Miller in bed with Ariana Grande,
Mac died last week from an OD/suicide,
after Ariana got engaged to another man,

then I Googled this,
“**** photos of Ariana Grande”,
what’s the matter with me why does everything lead,
to having my thing in my hand,

swear to God YouTube is the Devil,
got me to watch screens,
used to have more freedom,
because I didn’t own a TV,

but laptops just made it all too easy,
now I barely go out,
and when I do it’s usually just for food,
then it’s back to my bed or my couch,

laid up like I’m ill,
typing on my MacBook like an addict,
I mean how do you think I wrote this poem,
I wrote it by typing on my MacBook like an addict,

and I don’t know how it started,
or if it’ll ever end,
some call it Samsara,
others call it trends…

∆ LaLux ∆
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