constellations on her skin
fire in her bones
she had always preferred solitude
but never knew how to be alone

she was free in ways you could only dream-
slave only to unyielding empathy;
she would rather not try than not be the best-
mediocrity had always been her worst enemy.

people would ask her how she was
'but how to diagnose her condition?'
how do you explain to someone far more less peculiar
that you've always been a walking contradiction?

with nothing but love in her spirit
accompanied by the sting of death in her heart,
all she knew was turning whispers into words
and so she made her complexities her art*//

These constant intersections,
bilateral contradictions
between head and heart
is just like any other war
and
just like any war
both sides
just want to stay alive
more than the freedom
they’re fighting for.

Escapist Pt. 1 ( The Plan)

When I feel trapped,
I escape out of the stress when,
I write these words,
I scribe my confessions,
whether fact or fiction,
I blend into these pages,
whether a real act or just a premonition,
enlightenment comes in phases of stages,
I snap the trap and still escape unscathed with no scathing,
I always find a way to get away I am an Escapist who's always escaping.

A combination of a Genie in a bikini and a suited up Houdini,
a widely believed Whodunit mystery conspiracy theory,
I take it all in with a grain of salt nothing’s too serious no not at all,
lifes’ a fckn joke for real no for real seriously,

that’s the truth,
no rules no ruler,
just two tools to use,
my mind and my computer,

here there are no rules,
as we escape into these pages,
no rules no cages,
no minimum wages when maximum faded….

Feeling the dreams crashing into me,
I’m jaded,
no jade though ‘cause I’m not Chinese,
but yes I made it,

to these pages where these lines be,
these lines these,
lines in here are outrageous,
no slave labor,
no life savers or light sabers,
just these thoughts on these pages,
and I guess that’s the feeling,
I find between these lines,
written in freehand,
in a free land from the free mind of a free man,
though no one is free man,
not even me man,
because no ground is free land,
it all comes at a cost,
no boss,
no contract I’m freelance,

an emotional journalist,
reporting live from the front lines,
still alive even in these dying trying times,
though I don’t really know why,
might take my life after the lime,
light I gave you my all for right and wrong right?

Still alive,
no suicide,
though Lord knows I’ve tried and tried,

because if at first you don’t succeed,
try again pop the pills then wait and see,
still after all this time I’m still alive and kicking,
which means God must have a plan for me…

But that plan is top secret,
so secret I don’t even know it,
and we fear what we don’t know so I fear it,
but like most of us when scared we don’t really show it,

no fear with my dearest,
our Soul is one with the Spirit I’m serious and delirious,

no Eddie Murphy no tricks up my sleeve,
go ahead and search me you’ll find that all that’s on me,
is all that you need which is love and no mercy,
so don’t believe everything you read between the lines or see,

see?

I found that I’m lost,
after I lost what I found,
so I guess this is the end,
or maybe it’s the other way around,
key the deja vu key the deja vu,
I’ll see you at the sacred burial grounds,
it’ll be a party a carnival,
as the Merry-Go-Round makes merry go rounds,

and Mary and Jehova hunt the Red October in the Puget Sound.

No sounds,

it’s like a silent movie,
no Charlie Chaplin just a sorry Chaplain,
man fck all these pathetic *******,
they all seem outdated strung out and stagnate,
sedated ***** all soft and mushy,
most guys tell lies then turn those lies into movies,
and I watch them all in silence still preaching stop the violence,
and they’re still screamin’ sue me!

See I see that everything’s not so black and white,
so I don't take a stand I stay silent sit down and write,
when I feel trapped I escape out the stress when I write these words,
scribing my confessions whether fact or fiction praying these prayers will be heard.

– ∆  Aaron LA Lux ∆ –

author of The Poetry Trilogy
author of The H Trilogy

...No wonder,
no numbers,
all blunder with,
scarred slumbering,

do you compute the math?

Most don't but luckily I’m only half as bad,
a psychopath on sassafras off the track and on the attack,

but at least I don’t stick my neck out like a gangly giraffe,
shoulders limp as seaweed baked and bouncing to whatever wack raps,

not even understanding what you said,

clowning everyone else but honestly,
everything you dis you are that,
and like I said before,
I’m bad but only half as bad as that,

I’m only half brainwashed and somewhat sheepish,
so at least I’m able to write about how stupid we are,
false egos fake libidos we played ourselves and that’s a well known secret, still we dye our hair dress up get on stage and play the air guitar,

and it all sounds like,

egotistical *****,
reincarnated regurgitated nonsense,
narcissistic linguistics characteristic of conflicts,
nobody cares about how much money you’ve got,

not even you...

** I just published a new book. If you could take a moment to check it out and even write a review it'd be most appreciated. All profits go to a charity that prevents ****** assault and abuse against girls and boys. So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry, but you're also supporting a good cause. I spent 6 months and thousands of dollars on creating this book, all I'm asking for in return is a few minutes and a few dollars to help prevent the abuse and assault of our children. Thank you SO much ∆ Here are the links for my new book as well as the link to the charity I’ll be donating all of the profits to:

www.createspace.com/6393238

www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE

www.nomeansnoworldwide.org