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Randy Johnson Aug 2016
It was wonderful to have a mother who was so great.
If you hadn't died, today you would've turned sixty-eight.
When you became ill and died, everything went sour.
But while you lived, you were as precious as a flower.

Pink was your favorite color so you were buried in a pink dress.
I felt lost when you died but while you lived, I was truly blessed.
Nobody could've been a better mother than you.
You were one in a billion and that certainly is true.

When you became ill, I wanted you to get well but sadly, you could not.
I had to learn to live without you but I still miss you a lot.
I told you how much that I love you during your final hours.
Happy Birthday Mom, while you lived, you were as precious as a flower.
Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.
The Tinkerer Jul 2016
Tonight, as the clouds cry,
The thunder cracks,
And lightning lights up the sky.

A little writer begins to write.
He writes for peace of mind.
He writes a piece of his mind.

This, a feeling so pure.
Parting with a part of his soul.
Strewn, shards on a piece of paper.
So alone, at ease, he's compelled to compose.
Compose the ideas of life
And all of life's lies.
To tell the world,
Not to abide.
To tell the world,
Look that ***** straight in her eye.
Say **** it, and give her a smirk and

*Fly.
A night when creativity visits a writer is a day when a piece of his work feels complete in its own terms. This was one of those days. When the flow did not hesitate, when I was unable to suppress, I just went on. I wanted to tell the world that the things that stop you from achieving and striving for greatness, they do not necessarily have to dictate your life. The only hard part is beginning.
Waiting4TheStop Jul 2016
Fragile
And
Delicate
End
(C) 2016

My grandad  stopped breathing this morning this is for him
Marquis Green Jul 2016
When writing out who you're thankful for,
So many names come to mind.
It's so ironic that it starts to hurt to realize,
Who stays in your reality,
And what a dream world this would be,
If in the same moment,
You also come to know the pain of those who promised yet never fulfilled those sacred words.
"I'll never leave you if you never leave me."
No wonder I felt like life never made progress forward.
It's been a few winters,
But I've see the holy ministry gather with my eyes in their gaze and silent whispers,
It's all about regret and wishes,
With a soulless daughter being passed around without permission,
And a son who can't see the sunrise for his future is as barren as his once bountiful mission.
I have seen the world inside of a man lost in depression,
This obstruction of feelings,
Choking seconds before air rushes in,
Like an ache for the next season before the snow crashes in my home,
And yet the phone continues to ring,
With the sound of heaven alone,
Like I've always been asking for my baby to sing,
35 floors and you could only jump from the second.
Captivating,
What your eyes used to see the world for became the poison you doused me with and I still blame myself for the death of not only my mother, but the funeral dragged down by eulogies from those who never saw her face when she knew her child must live without her.
For what prayers did you hold my name in while holding another?
For what prayers did that man give to see his reflection to know he existed as more than a passer by.
John Wayne novels always had November as the casting call,
I'm still wide awake writing my dedication,
And yet I'd rather have the silence of myself than the willingness of those who will walk out onto the plank and drown themselves in themselves.
They never turn back until they need you to save them.
This future between the sailor and his father,
That bait,
Raising a man into a child,
Recluse.
Venomously,
Each word we wrote to the sky.
I wonder if anyone else connected eyes the way we did.
And by we I mean me and my reflection.
It's the only thing left that stays with me when I'm ready.
Anyone who tells you to buy beauty forgot what you looked like.
It's always 1984,
Burning our house away before I even had the love to long for everything that was missing.
We miss one,
We miss everyone.
We miss the sunset.
We lose one.
We lose all.
I lose myself in the idea of losing everything,
And I lose everything when I lose you.
This poem is the poem I'm planning to use to try and get my name known. If you could just leave a comment or a like for it, just so I know people are at least noticing, that'd be awesome.
Aaron LaLux Jul 2016
Heart Burst Anthology

Writing while my hands hurt,
in intermediate inspirational bursts,
writing till my hands break or my heart bursts,
never been a second placer so I’ll take whichever comes first,

until then I’ll author our collective anthology,

and offer no disrespected apologies,
for verse after verse after verse,
until I go from driving in this Benz,
to riding in that hearse,

no apologies,
from me for anything of course,
because I am just a writer,
that writes with no remorse,

why should I apologize when I am not a part of the courts,
I’ve never taken anyones freedom or filed any reports,
I’m not God so it’s not my job,
to decide the direction of another man’s course,

still it hurts,
because they offer no apologies for their crooked policies,
locking young men up behind bars,
for simply being born,
as if life itself is a crime,

all the while,
these boys in blue commit constitutional treason,
they’ve got quotas to fill and time to ****,
so they’re quick to lock a kid up without any real reason!

And the ironic thing is,
it’s all done on the tax payers dollar,
the same citizens that pay the court’s bills,
get locked up and charged fees that are increasingly higher.

Dear Sire,
when did we become serfs on our own turf,
slaves on our own streets,
since when is it a crime to want to feed your family,
trying to make ends meet just to make ends meat?

Everybody’s gotta eat.

so we slave all day and work all night,
something's not right I’m downtown feeling uptight,

suspecting there's a plot and it's sinister,
uneasy feeling queasy thinking everyone’s suspicious of me,
reflecting and feeling like a prisoner,
or at least a suspect of strangers assumptions what’s the remedy,

slavery isn’t dead,
nothing’s been abolished,
the clothes have just changed,
and now the chains are just more polished,

and all this,
makes me write compulsively,
so hopefully when I’m gone,
future generations can read our collective anthology,

written without any filters or apologies,
no disrespective apologies honestly we're making up words,
and adding words to proses similar to concrete and roses,
I told you before that everything is real and that is for sure.

Let me be known,

let it be known,

we are here,
we are struggling and we are human,
we deserve the basic human rights that all peoples deserve,
see it’s difficult to rest my case when the long arm of the law keeps pursuing,

what are we doing,
what does it matter,
what will be will be,
I just hope that we’ll be a factor,

as we're,

adding words to emotions,
that we write with undying devotion,
no need for promotion when you're one with the ocean,
of interwoven showmen golden women and unbound emotions,

the Soul,
has been awoken,
and in return for your token gesture,
I offer you this token poem,

it’s a labor of love,
so I write even when my hands hurt,
and I’ll keep writing till my hands break or my heart bursts,
‘cause I’ve never been a second placer so I’ll take whichever comes first…

– ∆  Aaron LA Lux ∆ –


Volume 1
The H Trilogy
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 child abuse and ****** assault.
So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry,
but you're also supporting a good cause.
THT1 is #2 worldwide right now.
Thank you SO much!

https://www.amazon.com/Trilogy-City-Angels-Aaron-Lux/dp/1535054328
Matthew Harlovic Jul 2016
after the author’s death
bury his work with his last breath*

© Matthew Harlovic
Jack Jenkins Jun 2016
Stop the earth from spinning,
   I will seek you beyond dawn.
'Til I find your delicate face,
   Held in my loving embrace.

The journey our hearts undertake,
   A lesson in dedication and sacrifice.
Whether you've given me all your heart,
   Or never given me a second glance.

Know this is the truth from me,
   Never leaving or failing.
I will be your reliability,
   Rest easy in my arms.
SøułSurvivør Jun 2016
Thanks goes to my father
Without him we'd be lost
He gave his life to all of us
A family came with cost

When I was but two years old
He went to MIT
But he had to leave that school
My mom was sick, you see

He had to work much harder
For everything we owned
He saved and scraped and gave himself
So we could have a home

When he was but a little boy
He had to walk to school
During Vermont winters
Which were harsh and cruel

He was tested for IQ
When he was in 8th grade
His scores were highest in the state
So building blocks were laid

For his education
Was paramount to him
He walked twelve miles to high school
Through snow and sleet and rain

He was radar technician
During WWII
He was in Okinawa
A sailor tried-and-true

So our education
He worked for night and day
We all went to private schools
Because he got good pay

We never knew how hard he worked
He rose at 5 a.m.
That we'd have food and shelter
And could be schooled for gain

Both my parents read to us
And gave us the Great Books
We were raised on Dickens
Chaucer and the like

He gave us piano lessons
We knew Beethoven and Bach
Mozart and Vivaldi
And he taught us how to talk

All of my abilities
I owe to that man
And of course my dear Mother
Who schooled us through great pain

So here's to some great parents
Married still it seems
Over 60 years together
I owe to them my genes

I just want to thank them
My dear old dad this day
You worked so hard to school us
So we could find a way

I love you Clinton Jarvis
You made me strong and bold
A dedicated father

At 91 years old!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/18/2016
My father is the strongest person I know. He went through things during the Great Depression that would daunt most adults. But he went through them with such grace and poise. He is a stoic. He never complains of the pain he's in. He's completely deaf and now his eyesight is going. But he's still strong mentally. And reads voraciously. I owe my poetic abilities and indeed my life to him. Thanks Dad!
Aaron LaLux Jun 2016
I write like I can write away this insanity,
but it’s this insanity that drives me to write verses constantly,
caught in a rhyme scheme these words are the web,
but who’s the spider and who’s the fly,
who’s the victim who’s the villain,
let’s take a vote those that think both say “I”,

I,
write like I can write away this insanity,
what’s this loop called Hollywood,
I’m not here to play games or drop names,
won’t even drop my own and that’s word,

word,

words,
so many fckn words,
I write them all out of me,
but what do you do,
when everything is not enough?

I wrote this for you,
your’s truly,
Aaron La Lux….

volume 1 of the Hollywood HeartBeat Trilogy
available worldwide 7/7/16

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
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