She was in the Villa

Wearing her fine long

Chinchilla writing for the good fellow
Highlight bright me yellow
The Fairytale Fae
Dunaway, I wouldn't
Bonnie and Clyde this
runaway
poem

The death to be book part she

noticed a sliding door
A- heart
B- Smart
C- Part
D- Dart
E- Eventually until the writing
Do us heart


Be smart inside the secret door

Her Long petticoat laced

Got caught in his picture frame

His eyes were thick to book her
Writing match game

Oh! Sir Do us heart

The stock exchange of books
to be laid she took yours

English Tudor book house
of maid's took hers
Writing so many books
But not getting paid

Then she heard a knock
at her door

A distinguished gentleman
she raised

her brow and heard a shout
her tea whistled

So wary he looked bristled
and she was

book disheveled the wall
opened itself whoa!!

Until the
magician

The reaction eternal love_
Nocturnal flying dove


The white snowed in gloves
Wolf blew in gas jet stoves
Strong heart to fire blow
Writing game of the
Gulf of Mexico

The Golf clubs
The chosen book fall inside her
victorian tub
He drove right in
Rub a dub tub

But her book was not
completed
He was beside himself
Until the Gin

Life so unsuspected,

did you really expect it


Until death do us part

Inside the painting,
the book moved

  She stared like she got shoved
the key locked
Both hearts

Could play like objects an
"Operetta"

A literary write until the death do

us part be heart she was flushed

Old spirited La Gazette her name

is Suzette exercising her words

So Owl like but the ghostly writer

of crimes took over distressed

Digging on ten commandments

She only wanted compliments

She pulled the lever but she

felt hotter with his fever

There were all books
in a vault

Who is the mystery writer
at fault?

Ownership of books

more than there wifes



Their life's bonded together
like love to the end
those bookends.

Moving Mass Einstein
She is so vain Carly Simon
The song and book is
about her


So purrfect that all depends

Like two trenchcoat's

with author suits on a hook

Religiously Zen, but with
ulterior motives

books arrived in ten

Her home interior
so bright eyes

so enthusiastic but he
was inferior

with the ballpoint pen,
he pressed her

Like a Depp actor mind
way ahead

So for long such sadness,

I'll be ****** Scarlets
Dark flowers death
her scar fits

North to South
The writer moved to
Charlotte come to me my
writer's suspense me

Goth book #13 never
on a Friday
The 6 day of the month
she took 6 books out
she turned to the side 6 men
mesmerized conked out
They got hooked 666
books


Heavy necklace weighed her down

That chain reaction her
writers' block

She was stuck in his room by his

hands of the clock

Her long life pause her
short book clause

And he's her spouse?
Like a bookmark,

her tongue traveled but

to notice another
sliding door

"Out of life"

"Not One life"

(Born to die)

Give something

A book to die for

But who do we live for?

Like a Jalapeno hell
of reading so blunt

Fashionably late Mr.Valentino
book hunt

So fitting lifestyle
  Florence her Coffee
(Nightingale)
table for two
(light-in-Male)

"BeBook" holder

Two in the nook
Writing our hearts
2B perfectly lined
Writing  became the
crime
Drinking Lime with
the Kooks
of coconuts

2 death be us part
Words were spreading
Because I am nearer
Anderson window sill
Seeing Bill

conquering and
masquerading
his words
hummingbirds
stronger than his real
heart

"The love camera
"Writing new start

Tarantino
Near the Islands of
Portofino

more book wiser

What holds to her grace of
"Florentino"

books are like flavors

The wine and book taste like
Gallo Hello___Heart

Little girl with wide blue eyes
Dreams as boundless as the skies
Surrounded by dust and dead ends
Waltzing in a land of make pretend

Freckled, fervent and coy
Twirling past the neighbor boys
When she moves, she slips away
Lost in a smile and a happy place

Left to wander the desert dry
Alone and forgotten no matter what she tries
Looking for affection in an empty well
Fading echoes of forgotten church bells

With her reveries she swiftly dropped
A leap of faith and the whole world stopped
Warm blood and dampened grass,
A mangled foot and a binding cast

In dark days she prayed for help
Wanting to step and perform
Not ready to give up her last chance
To take the stage by way of dance

Ten years later, she's swaying
and twice as stunning as before
Sculpted cheekbones and brooding eyes
Grabbing audiences by surprise

She's reborn a star of the movies,
With a new name and tiny waist
Pretty young flapper with a striking face
The little girl has finally found her place

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
I would that I could walk again
Amid your streets ablaze with life,
And breathe the lively scents of spice.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
I would that I could hear again
The sound of prayer in your mosques,
The silent knolling of the bells,

The clangour of patrolling knights
Who solemnly in armour tread
Your dusty paths and stony ways
When sun ascends at break of day,

And noises of returning feet
To simple homes at fall of night,
The closing of your iron gates
Beneath the lustre of the moon.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
With blasphemies your cross is stained,
With agonies of sacrifice,
The long and sordid tale of blood,

Of warring nations long embroiled
In vain discord and endless strife;
When God’s own name is used to slay
The blameless children of His land.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
Long have you bathed in the rivers of tears,
Amid the glistening seas of blood;

Let the silence have its day,
Embittered in its irony,
And let the night of horror pass.
Unspoken prayers will be heard.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
Now draw again your living breath,
For in your defeat is your victory;
And rally forth your strong to sing
The joyous paeans of the dawn.

Growing up and knowing you give me sighs of bliss,
Didn't you say we're Patroclus and Achilles?
That  we are one soul abiding in two bodies,
Just for you, my best friend, I will make a promise.

You said that if Patroclus' fate's same with mine,
You'll try to make Achilles' fate same with thine
Our corpse lying next to each other would be sign,
Of a true, intimate friendship that is sublime.

Bringing those memories we made in Macedon,
The celebrations of battles we've always won,
I never lost, because I'm with you, Hephaestion,
My only defeat's when I lost you and you're gone.

I am just a general, and you are a king,
We have this love, but this love can do us nothing,
Love is not all that both of us will be needing,
You need an heir, we need wives we'll be marrying.

But even though now I have an heir and a wife,
It would be still you and me in the afterlife,
Even if it means I will be stabbed by a knife,
I'd love you, even this kind of love is not rife.

But even if we died and left this world early,
In separate deathbeds, we made love intimately,
Even if I made my last hurrah without thee,
You kept that promise, that nobody promised me.

I open my eyes,
to The End of one of the Lord of The Rings movies,
not sure which one,
because honestly I haven’t seen any of them,

I’ve met Elijah Wood though,
several times,
can’t say we’re the closest of friends,
but we do know each other,

I find it such a strange sight to wake up to considering where I’m currently at in the world,

The End of one of the Lord of The Rings films,
there’s a round wooden door right before the film fades out,
and even though I haven’t seen the films I’ve been to New Zealand,
and know a Hobbit house when I see one,

I turn the screen off,
I’m on a bus in Myanmar,
it’s supposed to be a VIP bus,
but I don’t feel Very Important,

still dwelling on past relationships,
like the one that I had with a young Hollywood Star,
I loved her honestly I did,
but sometimes you can not save someone from themselves,

I watched in horror,
as she turned from Starlet to Harlot,
from overnight success,
to plain as day failure,

she used to be such a Turn On,
until she became a Turn Off,
I told her she should turn in,
instead she just got turned out,

it’s too bad,
I guess not much I can do about it,
I’m just a Lost Poet from the Lost City of Angeles,
I am not God nor am I a Savior,

I’m from the city,
where every Wonderful Dream,
is built upon,
a thousand Horrible Nightmares,

I try to close my eyes to get some rest,
I’ve got a long flight in the morning,
Yangon to Kuala Lumpur,
a rendezvous with a friend on an island,

and it’s already been a long day,
so some sleep would be most appreciated,
but I’ve lost a lot of sleep to dreams,
and this night is no acceptation,

I’m tired yet wired like always sleepwalking in a daydream,

I open my eyes again,
to The Beginning of The Sixth Sense,
Bruce Willis is just waking up,
rubbing his eyes I feel like him,

which is actually relevant,
since I am good friends with his daughter,
wrote her a birthday poem and read it to her,
at her Birthday party at her mom’s house,

real life seems so surreal sometimes,

my mind drifts,
between past regrets and future hopes,
trying to move past regrets and into a future of hope,
and we all want to think we know the answers but really nobody knows,

so we explore,
the lands of the World and the minds of the Man,
in hopes of discovering,
some Great Secret that will set us all free,

well I’ve got news for you,
I’ve been revealed a great secret,
and the commonly believed great secret,
is that there is no Great Secret,

still I want to know,
and so I ask this question,
if we are really living in a Matrix,
then who programmed the Programmers,

now before you call me crazy,
let me allow you to refer to Elon Musk,
who recently said in an interview,
that we are likely living in a Simulated Reality,

and he’s much smarter than you or me,
so he probably knows what he’s talking about,
now let’s take a moment out of our regularly scheduled program,
to reflect on exactly the severity of the implications of this is,

reflect,
we are living in a Simulated Reality,
and maybe Elon is the Messenger,
maybe he is the bridge between our two worlds,

reflect,
once I let it all soak in,
everything that’s happened in my life starts to make a lot more sense,
I start to see why I was literally conceived in Hollywood where I began to literarily write,

I open my eyes…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

New book available worldwide now, here:
https://www.amazon.com/Holy-Trilogy-Vol-Masonic-Psalms-ebook/dp/B01N3QR3E4

Cold rigid steel ****** its way inside
My Skin; Quarrying away drops of blood.
I wonder where it all went wrong
Was I not kind? Not generous?
Did I not make you smile
Is it fair
That the ones closest to you
Can hurt you the most.
I trusted you alone
And you stabbed me in the back

As whisker-twister pauses, tho’ journey lingers on,
Sniveling and sneaking as he darts in shadows long,

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

No food, nor sleep, no drink and no refuge, found anywhere in France,
Nowhere to run save forests, upon which he’s forced to take a chance,

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

Scampering in shadows, with the hunter’s distance being closed,
Rodent Ambiorix, -little mouse, is paused and panting in repose,

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

Frightened little mouse, run, yes run away,
Frightened little mouse you’ve come to rue that day,
For frightened little mouse, -Caesar’s on his way!

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

PHAEDRUS WHERE ARE YOU NOW? WITH GREY LOCKS
AND LUCID MINDSET WHICH THE CRADLE ROCKS,
WE KNOW YOU, LISTEN TO YOUR TREATISE DREAM,
WHICH CAN NOT BE MET BY NOTHING AS IT SEEM;
PLATO MADE YOU CRAWL WITH TRUMPETS BLAZI NG,
LEFT YOU SPEECHLESS, STARING, ONLY GAZING
AT WHAT WAS NOT THERE, GONE LIKE A LOST SONG,
NOUGHT WAS THE SAME SINCE YOU CAME ALONG,
AN AGEING INCUBUS WITH LITTLE TO ACHIEVE,
YOU WOULD HAVE US ALL JUST WANTING TO BELIEVE,
THE SOPHISTS WERE ALWAYS RIGHT BUT YOU WERE WRONG,
ABOUT THINKING, ABOUT LIVING, ABOUT ANYTHING;
THE CLASS LEFT FOR THE DAY HAPPY AT DEPRESSION,
THERE WAS NOTHING BETTER THAN LISTENING TO YOUR LESSON.