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Sleepless in foetal slumber
Eyes closed yet wide and irredescent to your indescrections
The dark lays like a veil underneath your rough hands
As they inappropriately trace my delicate infants body
I do not move
I cannot out of fear of what you’d do if I dared to
but I should think myself lucky really
you spared me from the full extent of what your evil could have done
but still I can still feel the weight of your hands like a tonne of bricks pushing down on me
now ,can’t let anyone too close .
what you did comes like back in
blows to my psyche
little brown rabbit
in a field of coyotes-
hoppy survivor
5/22/2018 - Poetry form:  Haiku - For many months my wife and I have seen a little brown bunny frequent our back yard from a field in the back that has coyotes, foxes, deer, opossum and raccoons. It returns to the field each day and we always think it will be its last day.  But a few days later there it is again   A hoppy survivor for sure! - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Iz Oct 9
Is it really survivors guilt if
I haven’t survived yet
Stephanie Aug 13
My expressions wiped away by the back of your hand
Painted face now purple skin, your white knuckles, my neck
I needed you to know how it felt to be your girlfriend
I needed you to know how it felt to be your victim
Aaron LaLux Oct 5
She cries during ***,
in an attempt to express & address,
this set of collective regrets that’ve been suppressed,
ever since when she was first undressed & no one confessed,

I let her vent, give her room & hold space so she can process,

I suggest she take some deep breaths instead of stress,
still has some emotions left so I guess in a sense she’s blessed,
in a world that’s gone cold & everyone seems possessed,
people stumbling around like zombies in The Walking Dead,

no Norman Reedus or Andrew Lincoln features though,
just an aborted fetus & a broken heart seeking treatment,
which explains why she’s always willing to give guys a try,
& stay with them faithfully even when she’s mistreated,
& I’m willing to be crucified for the actions of other guys,
so I take her torment away & transform it like Jesus,
bare the weight of her loss like a cross then write the moments,
releasing the feelings in books since I’m a poet not a preacher,

not here for the heroics,
or other crowning moments or admirable achievements either,
so I’m on the down-low drinking hoping to go unnoticed,
at a bar on a barstool with a babe so hot I’ve got a fever,
we’re both discrete because we both need ****** healing,
& I promise her I’ll be here for her & not leave her,

until I get assassinated like Abe Lincoln at a theatre,

but she doesn’t believe the things I say about loyalty,
because she’s been betrayed before so she’s not too eager,
but hey I can’t blame her if I’d been through what she has,
I probably wouldn’t be eager to believe me either,
pause this’s getting too intense it’s time for an intermission,
I need to take a break so I can take a breather,

in a real life Soap Opera drama live on stage in Life’s theatre,
caught up in all the rawness of these women’s feelings,
one minute she’s laughing the next minute she’s crying,
she apologizes & I say she never has to apologize for feeling,

or make excuses to me or anyone else for her feelings,
I mean at least she still feels things,

even when those feelings open wounds that need healing,
lays her head one my shoulder, says she’s been ***** before,
so when I go rough in the sack with her she gets flashbacks,
& it’s hard to face facts that relate to what’s happened before,

I tell her it’s okay I tell her I’ll go slow we can take our time,
I tell her it’s ok to stay she’s safe, she can tell me anything,
I tell her sometimes it helps to open up & communicate,
but she just clams up & doesn’t say a thing,

so I get up to go shower,
to try & wash off the stress,
moments later she comes in & joins me,
somewhere between sedated & upset,

at a hotel somewhere in America,
a hotel they call boutique,
but it all feels haunted & a bit spooky if you ask me,
the wind howls, the windows rattle, & all the floors creak,

so I can’t help but get the creeps,
because this hotel feels more than just a little like me,
all dressed up nice, hip trendy on the outside,
but inside everything’s not at all what it seems,

haunted from the drama of these girls that were abused,
then used *** to transfer that abusive dark energy onto me,
which I guess I kinda deserve because I used to serve,
this sort of abuse to girls who were into me sexually,

you get what you give this is exactly what karma is,
so now I’m trying to help heal the Collective Feminine,
from all the damage that’s been previously done over lifetimes,
by the overly aggressive actions of the Collective Masculine,

so go ahead smash your conflicts into me I’m begging you,
drown me in the ocean of the tears of your traumas,
scream shout let it all out until there’s nothing left to let go of,
& I will still love you continually no menopause or commas,

I will always love you unconditionally continually,
no mental pauses or parental dramas,
you have been hurt before but you still have worth for sure,
no one’s pure but at least you’re honest & willing to work on it,

& it’s an honor to be here to hear & be your platform,
for you to express your regrets until there’s nothing left,
you are an incredible creation resilient & brilliant,
you’re worth it we’re out here when distressed I’ll be your outlet,

so you can vent the stress as you process,
even if part of that process involves crying during ***,
you’re worth it I’m here to hear everything you express,
a Living Light in this world of The Walking Dead,

so it’s totally okay to cry during *** go ahead,
especially if it’s an attempt to express & address,
the set of collective regrets that’ve you’ve suppressed,
ever since you were first undressed & no one confessed,

I’ll let you vent give you room
& hold space so you can process…

∆ LaLux ∆

from THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available worldwide.

If you enjoyed the poem message me directly and I'll send you a link so you can have the Kindle version of the book for FREE.
Another True Story...
cassie marie Sep 23
There are seven stages of grief
The first being denial
We deny that we are here
In this hell on Earth
We deny that some of our family members have been taken into the hands of death
We deny that we went through what we went through
In hopes that we will forget it ever happened
The second is the pain
The pain comes when it finally hits
Your family is dead
You will never be that same happy kid as you once were
The happy-go-lucky kid you were before the camps
The realization that your body will never work the same way
The next is anger
The frustration you have been holding back
Not at the Nazis or the Germans
You are frustrated at yourself
You are mad at yourself for being in that situation
You do not know why you are mad at yourself
But you refuse to place the blame anywhere else
The next stage is depression
The hole in your heart where your happiness used to lain
The realization that you are now by yourself and there is no one who will understand you anymore
No one will speak the language that us survivors speak
No matter how good of a therapist you are
It is a foreign language only select few speak
There is another stage we went through
The upward turns
The realization that you will be ok
You realize that you do not need your family to be ok
You do not need anyone who survived with you
You only need yourself
And that is all you have
There is another stage
This being particularly the hardest
It is working in an everyday life
With your new setbacks and PTSD
The new you starts to work properly
There is one more stage
It is acceptance
You finally accept what happened
You accept the fact that everything that you went through
Is not fiction
It is real life
You accept the fact that we went through inhumane treatments and tortures
And we accept all of it
We realize and accept that we were almost all killed off
Weather by sickness or ******
We accept we were the lucky ones
And never look back
I wrote this for a school assignment last year, and now it's being submitted into scholarship contests:)
Aaron LaLux Sep 23
....  I’m leaving Neverland, never to return again,
I’m leaving Neverland, for real & forever man,

& this is not an attack, or any other act of aggression,
this is not an insinuation or malicious accusation,
no need for Mesereau to get an acquittal through vindication,
because the fact is, I still love you, Mr. Michael Jackson,

& I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, I am for real,
never meant to make your daughter cry,
I apologize a trillion times,
now I’m Outkast, self banished myself like Lauryn Hill,

so Leave Me Alone, I told you I’m sorry Ms. Jackson,
& if truth be told, I still love you Mr. Jackson,

I still love you Michael Jackson,

& I’ll tell you what I think happened,
I think you were robbed of your childhood when young,
& your whole life you only wished to have one,
so you could feel safe enough to play & have fun,
& the only way to ever have the childhood you never had,
was to create your own sanctum paradise & call it Neverland,
with a ferris wheel carousel fairies trains giraffes & elephants,
your own fairytale so you’d never have to grow up, Peter Pan,

& you were so pure & kind & innocent,
& you really just wanted to play,
but over assumptive suspicious judgmental perverse minds,
made accusations called you strange & put you on display,

there is nothing worse than false accusations,
placed on an innocent man in an abrasive way, ...

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆

an excerpt from poem #27 of
THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available on Amazon here:
www.amazon.com/dp/1950780023

and if you've read this far I'd like to show my appreciation by buying you a copy of THHT3 from Amazon myself, seriously, I will give it to you for free. Just send me a Message here or on IG @aaronlaux

Aaron LaLux Sep 22
Who,
hurt you,
so bad,
that you haven’t let yourself heal,
& why,
do you,
let them,
continue to hurt you?

Why,
are you,
hiding in your shell,
you are not a shellfish,

here,  
have, a well wish,

I wish,
you realize,
that you are stronger,
than any memory that you may have,
that you are stronger,
than any person that’s ever hurt you in the past,
that you are stronger,
than the darkness that’s invaded your light,

What a paradox you can often be,
one minute so outgoing the next minute totally shut off,
refusing dialogue not caring if you die at all,
on a walk in a park after dark communications shut down,
well you know what love, you’re too resolute,
to let let downs let you down,

I see you,
I see your struggles, I see your strengths,
I see that you are so close, to having a life altering epiphany,
I see it even if you don’t let me propose this question,
do you think a caterpillar knows as it grows,
that it’s about to metamorphosize into a beautiful butterfly?

See you might not see you, but I see you,
I see that you are so close, to having a life altering epiphany,
& breaking totally free, but you know what,
you don’t have to break to be free, you already are free,
you just have to realize it, & once you do, which you will,
you will see, no one can hurt you, not even you,
because you are a being, of such astounding strength,
that you’re just beginning to understand how strong you are,

so who cares who hurt you so bad you haven’t healed,
because from now on you will let no one ever hurt you again.

Remember that…

∆ LaLux ∆

from THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available worldwide here: www.amazon.com/dp/1950780023

This book is so important that if you can't buy it just message me directly and I'll buy it for you. Seriously.

they nod their head
as if they understand
but don't fool with me
your eyes are glazed
and the notes that you are scribbling
cant measure the pain ive felt
i pull out the symptoms from clenched teeth
legs swinging in the air
on and on
an endless list
you grow restless
and when i open my mouth to continue
you walk out the door
that's when i realize
even the doctors don't know what to do with me
Esther L. Krenzin
Lost Soul Sep 16
One year ago today
I got thrown aside by someone
..who promised me the world
On September 15th, I struggled to be okay

For three hours all I did was cry
"How could I let another person leave?"
"How could I push someone else away?"
"I'm sorry I ruined your life... I promise I didn't try "

Little did I know it would get worse
I had no idea what rock bottom was
I tried to reach out for help
And was told to deal with it
"Just let to run its course"

But on that day was the first time
I said that I wanted to die and meant it
I started dying inside
As people around me just watched
I was isolated..apparently depression is a crime.

From that day on I didn't stop crying
and will never be the same
Slowly but surely i pulled myself up from the pit
Suicide is a awful mind game

Crying went from hourly to daily and from weekly to monthly
It took at least 8 months and I'm still stuck on monthly
But I am getting stronger everyday
Don't take my story as a sad tale
It is a survivor's story
I am a survivor.
If someone is going through something similar and needs someone to talk to, I am here to listen.
Also, I choose not to go into detail about the events because I wanted to avoid being repetitive. If you really want to know then read my old poems, they explain it best.
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