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Zack Ripley Jun 2019
I walk up to the counter ready to place an order to go.
With coffee and cookie in tow,
i head to my favorite spot and get ready for the show.
3..2..1 let's go!
What's the show you ask?
I don't know! It's different every day
and plays whether the sky is blue or gray.
It could be a traffic jam,
a man trying to wash people's cars,
someone getting arrested,
or even a guy in a costume saying he's an alien from mars. Whatever plays that day, it never gets old.
I get to learn about the people of my city
while staying out of the cold
My 50th poem! This poem was inspired by someone suggesting writing a poem about something you would see in a coffee shop.
I woke up on the couch again.
I've been sleeping there each night that he's out of town without cell signal.
Not that he even lives with me.
But sleeping in my own bed still feels lonely if there aren't texts from him to look forward to.
No matter how many new friends I make, I can't fill the empty spot.
And it's okay.
"Distance" makes the heart grow "fonder", but all I can hope is that it'll make the heart grow.
So much on our minds.
Choices to make and places to go and work to be done.
And the desire to just drop it all for a week and be together is always there.
Patience, I say, there will be a week for that.
So I will wait.
As much as it hurts for the present, it's worth it.

I got up off the couch once I'd written him a good morning text.
I was playing some of my old music and getting lost in the atmospheric melodies, and just pouring water into the coffee machine instead of waiting for the Brita pitcher to filter it, and then use that, was my method for breaking through the anxiety barrier today.
From there, coffee was followed by a desire for food (because coffee alone is just asking for a stomachache) so I thought of my pancake mix.
Here goes. I'm not measuring this out, my measuring cups are all in the ***** dishes pile. I've washed a bunch of glasses and this one will fit enough pancake batter for two or three small flapjacks.
Here I go.
they look like crepes and not pancakes. but it's alright.
EmperorMoth Apr 2019
Hey over there, with the wild unruly hair.
Do you ever wonder why this world is so very unfair?
Is it's clearness so foggy and it's foundation soggy?
Does your hope make you groggy when the ground feels so boggy?

Listen here, my sweet and fragile dear.
Even a bird of hollow bones can sense that aura of fear.
But it is okay, for this is why you are so sane.
A world that was fair would just ruin this game.

Have you ever felt good, when you conquered a challenge?
When everyone else seemed to have found their allonge?
Yet you had to go further to leap over the hurdle.
And when you leaped out they all soon turned into turtles.

It's a game my dear, but a game of what's there.
When did the game master ever say that this game was fair?
Now put on your shoes, and make this your campaign.
And you will never ever look at the game the same.
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!
I wish I could fly
I’d go somewhere that I could call my own
A place that no one knows
let my thoughts fly about
like leaves on a windy day
no branches that can hold me down
just the blue sky that consoles me
to breathe in the fresh, crisp air
and let go of all the worries
Death-throws Mar 2015
Lets build an empire
we can start with a single city
lets paint the roofs pink
with ebony black streets
i want power-lines like spiders webs
and *** plants dangling of eves like candy canes
i want love to be the currency
and replicate

lets build an empire
roads joining our cities like spindled wool
lets tunnel through the mountains in our path
and bridge the Atlantic
lets infect the world
our citizens of love,
lets make the only dictionary definition of race define
the act of running from one side of a field to another

Lets build an Empire
A world where dreamers are called human
and your sadness is almost as  irreverent,
as your plan to paint the moon purple
and make tails an optional extra at birth
I want the world joined by routes our fingers traced
on the globe in your room,
i want the stars to spell out or names like the light shade on your ceiling

are my foundations
and with your gracious consent
i would love nothing more , then upon your soil
to lay the foundations of my dreams
our empire.

come my darling, lets make plans
Tommy Johnson Mar 2014
This is turning out to be a sundry thing
Oddball bowties and impurities
Fruits of our labor no, vegetables of lethargy

We are always one of a kind
Listen to our veracious lies
Once in a blue we let them out

Nobody can know, everybody will know our name
Why do I always feel bad? I know I shouldn’t feel bad
I should be grateful for the rain

It’s all upside down, but I’ll be fine
I’ll take my time, I can find a way someday
It’s all right side up, I’ve had enough
Life is rough, what can I say?

Is it weird to desire change?
The sudden urge to rearrange
To color outside the laid down lines

I’m not saying to start all over
Or to tear down and build a new
I just need something different to do

Nothing to run from, there’s nothing to run from here
I must of imagined, guess I just imagined
Apologies my darling dear

We’re all glistening, with our sweat
Let’s make a bet, the stakes are set, soaring
They’re all listening, but you’re not yet
You’re in my bed, snoring

The world will always spin, so just tell me where and when
Play it cool and lay low, give me the coordinates then we’ll go

— The End —