Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
To why I think poverty is worse than
addiction. Not only destitution gives
you reasons to take any junk, but
destitution will suffocate you while
you’re clean. To life can be grandeur
giving reasons to be grandiose and
as for the rest of life, you’ll resent it.
You’ll fall in love, when it needs you,
break it’s heart, it raise hell, calling
upon the rapture, if you get the chance.
you better conquer it and live beyond
what’s human’s call royalty.
(To my mystics locked up, by culture
and ignorance,
soldiers of
the century, directly organised, to analyse
mankind's
crimes and out directly, looking
for
you.)
Great poetry can derive from the greatest isolation,
Conjure and fades away, in reality, art is produced,
resulting in higher dreams, yearning emotions and
at times, thinking thoughts, exchanging verses over
melodies inspiring to sing. One poet, can write one
poem, that sparks something more than a personal
revolution, changing tides to change Earth’s patterns,
like bring the second renaissance, where in actuality,
the poet only wanted romance. Where it’s always
kept at a large distance
There are points or moments, worth
not knowing why. The best muse, is
the muse I cannot have. I look to poets
who write better than thee.
In retrospect, if you had asked me what I
wanted, I’ll ask for endurance. My past
seems so pointless now. My face fades,
my soul drips away, the routine of another
survival is underway. I just changed worlds.
At least I know now, sometimes life, all
you need is to endure it.
To surpass my own suffering, is to forgive
and let go. No-one to hold onto, no-one
to lean upon, as I cry, no-one there to hear
me calling, so I continue falling, until I
self-destruct and force myself to build up.
In the end, I’ll be alone, isolation in dying
Moments. There is no point in life, where
the suffering will stop. But it would be a
dull world, if I never experienced pain.
I’ll see you at the crossroads, if not, I’ll
see you when I pass death, sinner or saint.
Sometimes I feel the present colliding inside,
as the future declares war, both pressing upon,
I’m unable to focus on the present. Be with me
now. There is no poetry without some sort of
suffering. Despite how much this poem seems
to lack.
(knowledge variable)
Aaron LaLux Mar 2018
What’s up with all these white walls,
and why do they follow me wherever I go,
at the house at the gym,
at the yoga and music studios,

and what’s up with this feeling,
that the bigger the city the lonelier the heart,
see just when you think you’ve reached the finish line,
you realize that actually it’s just the start,

because the bigger the walls are,
the more I feel boxed in,
and I become trapped,
in the four walls I’m lost in,

got in,
around age ten,
now everyone wants a piece,
of what's reaped from the pen,

Nice Win,
that’s what I should call this one,
if you’re already reading this,
I don’t need an introduction,

no other words needed,
except “Congratulations nice win!”,
now what prize would you like,
as a consolation,

“Well Sir.”,
you replied,
that’s tough to decide,
when you’re hi as a star in a good constellation,

and since we’re on the subject of constellations,
what would you call ours,
maybe Big Tripper because Big Dipper’s taken,
I wonder if we could have a Mars,

a Mars as in other planets,
not similar but similar enough to get along,
and speaking of getting along I forgot the subject,
so now I’m Self Edited sulkin’ like Culkin Home Alone,

but don’t trespass,
because I’ve got ***** traps,
if you’re not on the Guest List,
then please don’t pass,

because only thing beyond here,
is white walls that’re real tall,
which gives a feeling of total freedom,
with all windows and no bars,

no bars except these of course,
didn’t mean that last verse as a dis,
to every Bubble Gum Rapper,
and especially to whoever’s at the top of That List,

I wonder what you’d call it,
it as in this,
this life this waking dream,
this moment in time we are all in,

free fallin',
hear the Devil callin',
God too but I'm not ready to move,
so in my body I'm still ballin',

don’t call the enemy Hate,
call the enemy The Darkness of Ignorance,
which is ironic because they say,
the Illuminati is actually the one that offends,

living a fairy tale day dream,
in this story that never ends,
white clouds and white walls,
good times with good friends,

what’s up with all these white walls,
and why do they follow me wherever I go,
at the house at the gym,
at the yoga and music studios,

and what’s up with this feeling,
that the bigger the city the lonelier the heart,
see just when you think you’ve reached the finish line,
you realize that actually it’s just the start...

∆ LaLux ∆

Get The New Book 100% FREE Here:
https://www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps
Thoughts expressed with emotion, do not criticize
if one cannot understand, thought look at it, as
if it’s something you cannot accept. As for the artist,
generally they become their own heros. If not, life
will be a bore, unable to fit into something normal.
I’m in too deep to change, I’m already dead, because
everyone looks unfamiliar and I swear I’m going to
die at the hands of someone I know. And that’s real.
No-one can **** the soul of someone’s creation.
(Knowledge Variable)
now has tiny dancing flames, where stars
go to die. Their final breathe makes them
flicker in the dark, fading, as I take each
breathe, letting out slowly and in easing
pain, where in faith, show my real self to
the outside world. It’s all because I dare
to reach out to the infinity. When everyone
else told me that I couldn’t. But I do not
ponder on humanity's flaws, just wonder
when the rapture is coming.
Perhaps the only secret is to life, we wink
in sync to the evening stars
(dead wrong, when they’re long gone)

- knowledge variable
If the future has no hope, trust me, the
present will not escape any bitterness
that life throws this way. As nothing
that cause the heart no stronger pain
than the mute silence from one’s lover,
that all of life’s hope is rested upon, in
such holy trust. One’s hope and one’s
despair, is rendered with one, no other
time or moment, where one’s destiny
is shown so strongly, than it’s shined
in one’s romantic life.  
(knowledge variable)
Next page