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Did you know that
if you pour fat on a stone
God will eat it and
chip his teeth
becoming, ...angry?

Did you know that?

Is that, ...literal?
in meaning...
did God once bite a man's flesh
consuming his shoulder;
like a pork shoulder?

Did God do that?

Maybe God just shouldered,
...the burden of...
silly men and teacher's tales?
Maybe he didn't chip his teeth at all?
Perhaps he swallowed something ridiculous?

I don't know,
Believe what you like...

From space the Peloponnese,
appear like a chewed-up shoulder.


Don't they?
aurora kastanias Jan 2018
Crystalline waters enclose the rocks
Which ancient sailors swore to be,
The remnants of genesis leftovers
Of creation ****** deep, in the heart

Of the Mediterranean sea. Stones
Of philosophers mystic alchemy,
Metamorphosing mercury into precious metals,
Silver and gold, thoughts and ideas.

Blissful grounds of Magnum Opuses
In search of enlightenment where arid soils,
Nurture the trees symbolising peace
Delivering fruits treasuring divine,

A golden juice, a gift from Athena, goddess
Of wisdom gently slithering In Greek veins,
Inebriating essence with innate, gratitude
Towards nature and pride for roots profoundly,

Entrenched in concepts of liberty equality
Justice for all human beings, are equal by nature
Social animals responsible for,
Governing themselves within a civil society

Of free individuals. A land encompassing
A thousand islands, perpetual movement
Of tectonic plates under a blistering sun,
Caressing mountains a tireless breeze, whirls

The little white flowers off olive trees,
Now embodying the pervasive spirits of past
Conquerors standing on millenary blood-bathed
Territories ruled, yet by the twelve Olympians

A mythology while history is written
And narrates, the story of the men who fought
For pride and glory earthly vices
And out of Love.
On Greece
Simon Leake Dec 2017
Sky: a repository of adjectives
―land's fast mirror
―stripped of uniform
―thought to body.

Greece: a repository of alternatives
―Civilisation’s fast mirror
―never fully constituted
―thought to Europe’s body.

And all this water between us
―greasing the dialogue
―speeding up the dissolution
―co-operating.

Isn’t it always cooperative?
After all, the trickster
is nothing without prey;
the entrepreneur nothing
without an audience.
Rose L Nov 2017
This evening, the sun has set in raspberry blush and apricot.
Beckoning down with it those trees that shift through emerald tones the shadowed grass has forgot.
She lies draped, feasting, curved - carved not in marble but with
the ochre the trees leak when the sun is high
Deep and rich. Hands dig into figs and pull the insides out, ******* the ambrosia dry
Leaving fingertips dripping in rose-hip gold oil
myrrh that lights up that dusky soil
So when you touch the ground here, the mud is soft like the moonlight over her
And the juniper berries oft get stuck between your teeth
and make the air taste sweet.
Reflections in water mark no shimmering Daphne. She is flesh and blood
That desires not only to eat, drink and dance
But to feel full in her heart, to cry when needed
Flawed as a child is. She pulls her hair back from her face too regularly
and spits out cherry stones like a boy unimpeded.
And above her head soft stars form in Ariadne's guise
A vision of rich apples and pears, dark by midnight skies.
Marília Galvão Sep 2017
The perfect union of the warmest sun and the most refreshing wind. Smiles of strangers, now familiar faces. Five minds and hearts, five vibrations and colors, an indistinct rainbow as travel companion. Life of self-absorbed villages in Kriti's heart, an old man sitting out the bar. Fast moving eyes, eager to get every single branch of olive trees passing by... and the leaves falling behind as a continual green stripe between the light brown soil and the sky. Rawness that bites our senses and leaves us a fragment of itself without losing its eternity. Greetings from the insignificance of our moment compared to the landscape's symmetry. And yet, for us, those minutes are sealed into mortal memory. Poor leaning trees, beat by the ceaseless wind that blows in the veins of the giant island... Spectacle of colours and shadows of a sunset surrounded by hypnotizing hills. Astros gradually showing off... first is the crescent moon and its perfect curves contrasting the dark blue/grey/orange skyline... then a lonely star whose brightness outshines alone, until the grey and orange decline. And only then, with the sun long gone, and your heart in your mouth, you understand why the trees were leaning down south.
Hitting the road in Greece
Acacia Ludgate Sep 2017
You're lying on your bed and say
"I'm all I have, I can live with that".
And suddenly there's sleepy kisses
and late night walks
and hands intertwined
and a warmth you've never known before.
You know you should slow down
but all you can do is kiss him longer
and surrender yourself to sleep on his arms.
You both walk down the streets
with clouds beneath your feet,
and you throw away your pills
'cause nothing will ever make you feel like him.
You feel the clouds fade away within seconds,
and all there's left are goodbyes at train stations
and one last kiss at the airport.

And you go back to bed
but this time you can't get up,
filled with memories of happier nights
healing to the sound of his heavy breathing;
memories of the way he would slightly shake in his sleep
and the messy hair resting on your neck.
You're lying on your bed again and say
"I'm all I have, I can live with that"
but this time your voice cracks up a bit
and tears fills your eyes,
and maybe it wasn't such a good idea to throw away those pills.
For Tim.
George Anthony May 2017
you will drown, you will drown
you will drown
and i only like you for the taste
of blood in my mouth

you will drown me, you will drown me
you will drown me
and she sees it, too
the way you **** me under your skin

oh, darling, you're gonna burn
i'm already burning;
i think it's time you joined me,
searing sunlight smiles sparkling, laced

with plasma, ichor,
these white teeth take a bite
and i remember you're mortal
for the copper tang on my tongue

i only like you for the taste of blood in my mouth
i only like you for the taste of blood in my mouth
i only like you for the taste of...
there is no taste to describe the feeling of falling in love

i wish i could lie to myself better,
maybe it'd make me more convincing
when you tell me you love me
and i say i don't love you at all
As Helen
mosey through
a day
that gabbles
in May
there along
the stream
she meander
to assure
that interplay
only eat
cake with
fudge if
nectar aside
mustn't contort
telltale with
him astride.
Aaron LaLux Dec 2016
In The Pursuit of Happiness

Everywhere I go,
there are too many pillows,
and I’m not complaining I’m just saying,
it’s like I’m living inside some sort of reality show,

so far gone out of our minds into these experiences we go,

in the pursuit of happiness,
we catch the wave go with the flow and away we go,

so,
certain of nothing,
living,
the dream one nightmare at a time,

writing,
these words,
right after she’s left me,
like everything we experienced was just a dream,

or so it seems,

met amongst the sweat and steam,
of some thermal baths,
on the Buda side,
of Budapest,

bubbles whipped into a froth,
wandering but not lost,
feeling like a God,
gone but not forgot,

at this sacred sanctuary,
on the Buda side of Budapest,
I’m a runaway still on the run,
so sanctuaries like this are where I do rest,

in the pursuit of happiness,

some call it a challenge I call it a quest,

life is a lesson it is not a test,

losers say no while winners say yes,

Yes,

on the Buda side,
of Budapest,
this was the setting,
in which we met,

she was with her friend,
a lesbian from ******,
that’s an island in Greece,
for those that don’t know,

she happened to be a poet too,
so naturally we vibed well,
because when two or more poets get together,
it feels like we’re part of the artist cartel,

we got those emotions if you need them,
come on over and get your fix,
just a little motivation,
a rest stop a re-up on the road to happiness,

in the pursuit of happiness,

we have plenty of experiences,
we roll dice and take chances,
life itself is a gamble we all lose,
because nobody gets out of here alive,

I invited,
her and her friend to dinner,
they accepted so we met up,
a few hours later,

the plan was to go out to one of the ruins bars,
get some beers or whatever,
instead we ended up climbing a bridge,
and watching the lights of the city in all their grandeur,

fast forward,
we’re back at my place,
making love on a bed,
Baraka streaming from the projector screen,
onto the white wall between the floor and high ceiling,
melting reeling shaking grasping releasing,
feeling like two entire universes for the first time meeting,
she was coming I was going letting go at the same time holding,
it’s funny how sometimes a good grip can feel so freeing,
flying high lying down she’s riding me she’s coming now,
she’s Greek a Goddess call her Athena I mean this wow,
I’m surfing Her wave like Poseidon a titan live at the Apollo,
an all mighty Aphrodite laying down but not sleeping no Hypnos,

so high so fly,
feels like there’s wings coming outta my head,
she’s still on top of me so I turn her over on the bed,
to find a tattoo on her neck and here is what it read,

“Pursuit of Happiness”,

in words written in cursive,
this is beyond ironic,
this is cosmic this is honest,
this is a comet crashing into earth this is God meets Goddess,

on this,
earth,
we made love,
like some things still matter,

like,
something,
still,
mattered,

in this,
bed,
we made love,
like no things still matter,

like,
nothing,
still,
mattered,

as Baraka,
continued to play,
onto the tall white wall,
from the projector from which it projected,

and in that instant,
something mattered and nothing mattered,
everything mattered mad as a hatter,
free as a God in Greece in a moment perfectly captured,

as she lays here,
in this moment out of time,
an alchemist creating bliss from the pain,
painting the perfect picture,

this is more than a poem this is living scripture,

we are creating emotional paintings,
we are Gods and wherever we our is our Mt. Olympus,
as we travel on and write down our experiences,
so others can live through our words in a way that’s vicarious,

we carry this,
torch and stay on the course in the pursuit of happiness.

And everywhere we go,
there are too many pillows,
and I’m not complaining I’m just saying,
it’s like I’m living inside some sort of reality show,

so far gone out of our minds into these experiences we go,

in the pursuit of happiness,
we catch the wave go with the flow and away we go…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

09/09/16

Author Bio:
www.amazon.com/Aaron-La-Lux/e/B00ODPJAOK
Aaron LaLux Nov 2016
I’ll never know why someone Loves me,
even if they tell me in their total truth,
it’s possible that even what they believe,
is not exactly totally true,

so I don’t question Love anymore,
I never ask a Lover if they Love me,
because honestly to me love is a verb,
it’s an action not a title,

when in Love,
or making Love,
or showing Love,
or being Love,
there is no time for questions,
why ruin bliss with curiousity,
why have to know why,
why not just accept and be,

see,

I’ll never know why someone loves me,
even if they tell me in their own total truth,
it’s possible that even what they believe,
is not exactly totally true,

through,
the Night Sky I fly,
on a flight from Athens to Cairo,
I have a date with the Pyramids,

was only in Athens for one night,
en route from Budapest,
and with all this traveling,
one might ask when do I rest,

yes,
good question,
a much better question,
than “Why does she love me?”,

Why does she love me?

I’d only just met her,
and we’d only just made love,
still she looks at me so deep,
that I swear to my soul it seems she speaks,

and I swear she’d leave,
not even pack a bag,
she would just runaway to the airport with me,
and fly away to whatever destination comes next,

in this case the Pyramids,
and I’d take her I really would,
because I’ve loved and lost enough to know,
that her Love for me is genuine forget the questions,

so I ask,
on the couch,
in that living room,
at that house in in Athens,

“Will you come with me to Egypt?”,

I pray She says yes,
and as I’m asking her that question in Athens,
on that layover to Cairo from Budapest,
her hands I’m graspin’ and my heart is hopin’,
I’m open,
as open as my invitation to her is,
and then She replies,
in words so plain and full of pain,

“I would love to come with you,
but I don’t have a passport.”

And then everything hits me instantly,
so many things become clear,
I see how wealthy I’ve become,
and I see my success through her despair,

there,
She is,
on that couch at her friends house,
with nowhere to go,

watching false idols on the internet,
fantasizing about people I’ve actually met,
and I realize in that moment,
that I’m as close asSshe’ll ever get to freedom,
I am what She wishes to be,
so of course She’d run away with me,
of course She’d explore the world and her dreams with me,
but she doesn’t even have a passport,

and I am at a loss for words,
for me She is just a layover,
no pun intended,
but I wrote it so I meant it,
and as amazing as she is,
she’s just a Greek girl,
an Athenian human being,
but not Athena and the days are over for the Byzantines,

so she’s stuck there,
in that city of Yesteryears,
flooded now with refugees,
while I’m about to catch a flight out of there,

and I want to say so much,
but sometimes there’s nothing to say,
sometimes there’s no more questions,
and all the answers are plain,

so I don’t ask a thing,
I just sit there with here and smoke,
I just bare witness to another girl’s empty dreams,
because dreams without reality are just hopes,

nope,

not going to question this,
I’m just going to write it all down,
as I fly south over the Mediterranean,
in time for a feast in Giza,

and I want to give here everything,
not just a passport but a path to freedom,
but I’m just a bad boy with a good heart,
so all I give her are these words in hopes she’ll read them,

Alexia,
I love you and I’m willing to be patient,
and when you if ever get your passport,
come find me for I’ll be here waiting,
and I can’t promise you I’ll be single,
in fact I can’t promise you a thing,
because an honest man makes no promises,
and the true embodiment of freedom wears no rings,

but I will be here,
and I will accept you in all your Midnight Lights,
and I won’t ask you any questions,
and I won’t lie to you and tell you everything’s going to be alright,

but I will accept you,
in all your Midnight Lights,
and we will just let what we don’t know rest,
and attribute those unknowns to the Mystery of Life,

and I,
I,
I,
I,

I’ll never know why someone loves me,
even if they tell me in their total truth,
it’s possible that even what they believe,
is not exactly totally true…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The Holy Trilogy Vol. 1; Masonic Psalms from Holy Lands
available worldwide 11/11/16
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N3QR3E4
True Story?
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