Yet to be
Silent till given a sass
Sharing a smile, comes for free
Considering what we know, didn't we beget fast?

A light to worth, a realm of since?
Charity to fess, a fashion of essential
Through and due, through and due distance
Has found me, a particularly many, to a will

Levity in the name of...
Sorry about the sneeze, but...
Hope the service to an ideal, does...
Seeing you in the reach, of could is my such...

Days forming, with the live of a share
To which we sake, a due patience
Seen in the stares and fares, we know not, may...
Until forces intervene in the way of silence

Sit with me, and know a ship
Today is the same, the fame of a tried shame
Begun in earnest, the world of a prophet's lip
Has the voice, the swallow of pride, we meant to yet's name

Salt, do we savor the favor of demand?
Or is a misery ours to keep, a dance of repose
That when seen, has a bliss for what we want to mean
Is, a simplicity of courage, and chaste the liberty to lose?

How about another, drink that is...
Futures to fight and conceive of the shy
Have a certain rapture, we collect for all and this
Any maybe and avid here say, we know the seldom right...

Last year's version of the mind-body problem:
my mind gives orders that my body won’t obey.
It’s a problem.

The body’s warranty has expired and
spare parts are scarce.  Plastic tubes
To help me drain have become part of my day.
So there’s still a will.  But sometimes no way.

I am now my sister’s age when she died.  
And some nights
as I lie down in darkness
there’s a moment of wondering
could this be the night
of the Great Reckoning
when everything I’ve said and done
goes mute and I am gone.

And crawling over me like a slow stain
is dread that everything important in life
has already happened. I remember some days  
less than my dreams.

But friend, not this tone!
Let us write a history of now.
Body and soul, stand up and shout
“Baseball road trip!”

Car:  check.  Best friend:  check.  Nostalgia for a simpler
time.  We can fake that one.
The red zigzags on our map turn into places:
Six ballparks in a week.
Detroit haze, gasping Chicago wind,
Milwaukee self-serve micro brew
Cincinnati chili and watering eyes,
Cleveland’s defiant self-love,
Pittsburgh’s Primanti brothers monstrosity sandwich—
Burger, coleslaw, and fries on toast.

The American dream tastes like fast food,
But the mystery lives between the lines.
Thwack of fastball into catcher’s glove,
Whock! of line drive into the gap,
Ball rolling free across the green
While the runner speeds for home.
Home.

Let’s keep going, friend.
There’s another bridge up ahead and
a ballpark’s lights shining somewhere in the dusk
of the upper Midwest and the open road
unrolls toward the setting sun.

A little green plant
Just ready to pluck
Crystal shining brightly
With any such luck

Find the best spot
Hang it down to dry
Watch it swing
Think about your supply


Highly be aware
of your buds
No one needs
Happiness turned dud

Take your time
While you clean
Smoking a seed
Is awful and mean

Favourite part ,break apart
Once Confined then grind

Smoke it all up
Sit back ,and unwind
that lil green plant
Will blow your mind.

White sneakers and t-shirts
With the dumbest prints
An Hawaii shirt on occasion
Joyful tales; a fool I make
So broken it looks like art
This high life is my lie life
Pink skin (but veins so black)
Like sugar so sweet
This ****** blues.

“It’s 2017 those pants they just won’t do.”,
it’s 2017 undressed by a 16 year old,
hold on though it’s not ******,
even though yes she is truly beautiful,

we are in the dressing room of a mansion,
attending a costume party that's themeless,
and everyone here is dressed up,
dressing and ******* no salads just ballads and suits that are seamless,

and here I am in this Dream with,
this girl I don't even know and she's 16 with,
an attitude to match rude but just a bit,
and sure she's cute but there's no way I'd hit,

I am not attracted,
to Ms. Red Red,
in Love but not in Lust there’s a difference,
she's a friend's sister and that’s it,

Ms. Red Red,

ridged rounded scaled scarf,
I know that sounds hard to explain,
and I’m not attempting to try,
I’m just saying judging is a waste of time in the Wild.

Listen,
this life is so surreal,
that even when it’s viewed with vivid realizations,
it still doesn’t always even feel like it’s real at all,

all of this,
is,
as insane,
as we are,

are we,
anything other than Out of Control,
O.C. Baby I’m ready let’s roll already,
oh well who knows not me no one tells not even those For Whom the Bell Tolls,

are we,
anything other than Out of Control,
anything other than everything that’s so fckn Cliche,
can’t escape it not even if I tape it up and cast it away.

Fck you,
fck me,
fck this fckn Sociopathic Society,
so long I’m gone gonna join a Progressive Alternative Community.

Are you feelin’ me,
forget the cliches,
let go of every label you were ever given,
especially the labels you’ve given yourself,

well,
here we are again,
at the point in the poem,
where you ask what the point is of this poem,

well
there is none,
the Secret is there’s no Secret,
come on don’t be so passe and blasé,

cliche,
yeah I know,
you told me that already,
but there’s no going back to the Past we’re headed where we’re headed here we go.

2017,
welcome to the Future of Dreams,
and that sounds cool,
but I don’t even know what it means,

see,
sometimes things make sense,
even though,
they’re things we can’t comprehend,

oh well then,
I guess we’re in,
a whirlwind of real life pretend,
living in this Factory of Dreams Happily Ever After,

living H.E.A.,
true Deja Vu with No Rules,
then she shakes me from my daze as she says to me,
“Hey it’s 2017 those pants they just won’t do.”…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

12/1/17