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Lulu Sarmiento Sep 2017
It strikes -- the scorching sun.
Her hair is messed up in a bun.
The habit. The veil. It was a chain.
She walked passed--
Dashed on the abbey,
Where she belonged.
Down past the silent corners.
Deep inside the high-unending walls.
The deafening silence,
The mute languages.
Secrets. Enigmas. Paradigms.
Hides the very thoughts of her shadows.
Her history,
Her memory,
Her identity.
Alas! Her name will forever be a mystery.
Buried secretly in a discreet grave--
Wasted. Rotting.
Concealed by the glowing epitaph.
Unsheathe--
Destroyed she will be.
Unspoken words are the ones that are screaming out of one’s eyes.
Aaron LaLux Dec 2016
The King’s Conundrum

Every castle crumbles,
every rise has it’s fall,
every king eventually dies,
no matter how great the life is he lives,

and all the jewels that rest in his crown,
can’t be taken with him when he’s gone,
because everything in this material world that matters now,
will be worthless when Kingdom Comes,

he’s on his throne,
he’s the king of the hill,
but he feels all alone,
because the pyramid gets smaller the higher you go,

while everyone watches the throne,
some with respite and some with respect,
as the ultimate answers stay evasive,
but the ultimate question continues to beg…

As a king what will you leave here once you’ve gone?

What will be your legacy?

How will you be remembered?

What will be your gift to this world?

After the fall when it all falls down,
what will you leave for society other than an empty body?

After all,
you owe everything you have in this existence to this world,

and you have a lot,
you’ve accumulated more than one man could ever spend in a lifetime,
and a lifetime is exactly how much time you’ve got,
and time is running out faster every day tick tock tick tock,

it doesn’t matter how much treasure you’ve got,
you can’t take any of it with you,
and herein lies the fundamental question,
what will you do with all of your immeasurable treasures when you’re gone?

And this my dear friend,
is the king’s conundrum.

Because the more you have,
the more you lose,
the more you make,
the greater the divide with what you can take.

Because you can take nothing,
except for maybe a few memories,
so what will you choose to do with what you leave behind,
what do you want the people to think when they remember he?

He as in you,

honestly,
what are you going to do,
now that you see,
that the more you make the more you’ll lose…

Choose,
wisely great king,
for God,
and the people are both watching,

so what will you leave,
for future generations to view and use,
and that my dear friend is the ultimate question,
but it’s a question that ultimately can only be answered by you,

so seriously,
what will you do?

because every castle crumbles,
every rise has it’s fall,
every king eventually dies,
no matter how great the life is he lives,

and all the jewels that rest in his crown,
can’t be taken with him when he’s gone,
because everything in this material world that matters now,
will be worthless when Kingdom Comes,

he’s on his throne,
he’s the king of the hill,
but he feels all alone,
because the pyramid gets smaller the higher you go,

while everyone watches the throne,
some with respite and some with respect,
as the ultimate answers stay evasive,
but the ultimate question continues to beg…

As a king what will you leave here once you’ve gone?..

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The Holy Trilogy Vol. 1; available worldwide
J B Moore Nov 2016
This crazy conundrum has been conspicuously contrived quite cordially. Of course, one could concede this cordially contrived conundrum could carelessly conflate the countless quandaries causing quintessential quantities to question the conspicuously questionable conspiracy. Conversely, carelessly questioning conspicuously contrived conspiracies as cordially quantitative quandaries could create considerably confusing claims countering the critically acclaimed crazy conundrum so callously clarified as to continue to count as cordial. Consequently, with careless acquiescence, I must confess that the conceptually contrived conspiracy, so inconspicuously inconsistent, conflated considerably contrary quandaries quite questionably and continues to confuse the crazy quite cordially. To conclude, the crazed conspicuous conundrum confuses the cordially questionable quantities of conceptually countless claims clearly clarified as conflated quandaries continuously contradicting a considerable count of conspiracies.

11/2/16 11:59 p
Just a little fun with alliteration and nonsense
J B Moore Feb 2016
Am I crazy or is it true,
Does the world reject the new?
       And can a beautiful lie
             Begin to rectify
   The deception of the truth?
J B Moore Nov 2015
Is it indubitably unsuitable
to be suitably incommunicable
on the undeducible deduction
dubitably deduced
to be immovably unmovable
or doably undoable?

Or can a crazy conundrum communicate
the incommunicable indubitabilty
of the undeducibly suitable deduction?

Simply said,
such is doably suitable,
or indubitably deducible
if the doably communicable deduction

deduces down
to the suitably suitable,
Movably reducible reduction
that's indubitably doable.
xvy Nov 2015
I seek the answer to the conundrum
you have  long become.
Luna
You are a puzzle
A conundrum
An unsolvable enigma
I cannot figure you out
Cannot understand you
And I love that
My lovely enigma
About an old, unrequited, love of mine
ms reluctance Apr 2015
Inside each person, a battle raging.
Every instance posing a new question –
what you want to do and what you ought to.
A choice; will you take the right decision?
And that is what keeps life interesting.
NaPoWriMo Day #27
Poetry form: Envelope Quintet
Lambert Mark Mj Jan 2015
Love isn't a conundrum of complexity
It's simply sentient affinity




-Stop looking up at the stars and determine how far they are, because there is  one person who shines in your world the brightest and closest-
@MJLambert :~)
Morrison Leary Nov 2014
The neighbors, they must assume,
slightly poke and ****.
Is there a rave going on, inside?
Too many light switches, dressing the walls.
A light show to the outsiders,
nosy onlookers, lurking in the shadow of night.
Pull the trousers down, give them a real show.
Two moons will shine,
a new home.
Please forgive me, I'm figuring out said design.
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