#freemason
If you’re going to write poetry,
tell the truth before expressing
beauty, love or any mood.
& in that process, an eventual
understanding in the sadness of
it all how much this life lacks of
it all. Minds get lost when reading
those poems, praying only to
get closer to the truth. Oh poetry,
look how I live my life outside
my written word. Look what
you done.
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 4:21 AM UTC
Know thyself,
know your worth,
for if you don’t know yourself nor your worth,
then really your art work will hardly be worth the hard work,
but know yourself & know your work,
& every work of art will be worth it even if it isn’t perfect,
sure it's tough being of service in this whirlwind world circus of serpents,
but you will prevail if you steady your sails & navigate with your compass,
through the currents with a purpose enlightened & in service,
there are still good men amongst us,
though only a few it's true,
but their virtues are righteous enough to help us all pull through,
which compels me to ask if one of those righteous men might be you,
see nothing lasts forever,
but together we can build a few statues,
we can create a few solid things in this unstable world of chaos,
because it's not a coincidence that water freezes at the degree of 32˚,
because it's symbolic of solidifying something that's not solid,
so let me ask you again is one of those righteous men you?
∆ Aaron LaLux ∆
from The Holy Trilogy Vol.2: Manadalas
available worldwide here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1721134158
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
There is still a magic of the rituals, especially when we’re vibing together, stimulating an extreme climate of moods and intense thoughts, that I sweat out blood, consolidating the past to my parent of my future, Lucifer for I’ve meet you before death, through lalent needling threads dusting aura in a silhouette of temptation that backs itself up in forms out reality fulfilling meaning. For the mysteries of mysticism isn’t replaced, just enhances, at least now I have forever to understand, while I’m formed into a symbol of light, where illumination is and I praise in the darkness. The Holy war provides more complex, while it’s veil is simple. People cannot win the world by using the world to fight for their purpose for society in false revolutions. Humanity isn’t worth fearing. I’ve peaked beyond the curtain and saw only horror on both sides of good and evil. It’s frightening to see what people do for their side and personal success. Do not feed into their fear. You have mind, use it, live your life, before they take your life, there is a lot more enlightenment within yourself. As for me siding with Lucifer, for he hates all religion, ideology and culture, uplifting individuality to allow them to master of their own realm.
(please checkout current publications on Amazon. Just search Darcy Prince for titles.)
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
Freedom a burden with load, pressing on shoulders,
poetry cannot tame or teach passion in wild tones. To
gain oneself, to lose another. Mystical wisdom that on
purpose collides with reality, producing illumination.
Poppy seeds and sunflowers. Fireflies dance with the
moon’s silver. Evading the inner self, spilling forward.
Profound elevation, risking a profound hurt. Colours
in romance, music to the neo. Leaving behind memories
of joy and forgetting all-else, on the account it never
to exist again.
(knowledge variable)
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 8:43 PM UTC
After
heartbreaking
realization.
A loss of life, a loss of another path. Destiny crumbles. As it shouldn’t.
Phosphorescent radiance in roaming ways, that twinge and flicker, distorting the sun's natural beams of rays that have sneaky ways in entering. Tilting up and gasping. Where the kids remain open and the eyes begin to scatter.
Becoming aware in not small moments of waves.
All at once.
Hitting every burrough of one’s soul, while the hands are in the pockets of a standing body. It’s horrific, yet not in disguise, spellbindingly beautiful. Filling out the tumultuous darkness in the inner-world, tempest to awakening. Be with me now. When it starts to ****** one’s secrets. I begin to sit on the nearest chair, trying to take a look of the sun through the colours that appear.
Turreted
towers that collapsed.
Heavy breathing that takes parts away, is the harsh payments of ones sin committed. Eccentric persona, developed from years of artisans works, finally taking over. Porta.
Darling state. Poetry letters open. Words of confessions.
Feet stretched out. Hands stay the pockets. Head slightly moves right. Held a moment. Looking up again. As after so many prays. The Heavens finally opening up for humanity for the first time. Rebirthed had always involved water.
Overpowering welcome. Restoring from the forgiveness of sin. And each word from every dogmatic book written, pops up at random, making sense and every flash. Atmosphere drops in heavy weight, the past is murky mist. Easy to let go and never to return as a spot to live, lessons when they appear. Like how stars are here to teach beauty.
Coherent schemes
by the
Mystics.
Patternless carpets. The inner-world is a funny things. Confusing lust for love. Believing own ideas are works of genius.
The sunlight darkens. The room cleared of any breeze. Still muteness. Standing and feeling the heart pump. Parish. Laugh now. In a post style, it enters with a meticulous way, lavish to make any prince grin with tinted jealous unable to contain. It’s good poetry. ****** outside, chanting to make my peace within and myself. Forgiving any mistake I bear hands had made, smile at any regret and remember shameful moments.
Anything till now is nothing.
Illumination happens during self-discovery or self-destruction.
There’s goats in the field. Moths circle them.
The ****** wears black in preparation. Myth and reality collide together when the rapture happens. Be conscious of it.
Life happens, whether I pay attention or listen.
Death is my final payment, after hardships that I am to endure.
Passing my soul and spirits to a another world. I continue to read ancient poetry that has been written to last eternity. Sunburnt kisses on the paper.
I leave the room, shall never return. And it still runes in me, like a violent fever. Standing out in supercilious atmosphere. Like a son to a Muse. Meanings in fumes. Turbulent soul, mixing in with neo ways. Sweeping motions. To what happened than, in earth is now gone forever. So goodbye. Strange to think of you, as someone I knew and we no-longer talk. During summer hazes and frost biting air whilst surviving winter. Now, we have nothing to say and never to witness another’s hard times and weep while it’s happening. Goodbye. You can say I’m hiding behind poems and their words, instead of thinking I’ve gone to seek comfort elsewhere, still you haven’t goodbye. For I still wish to live in poetics, my romantic nature I cannot part, I wanted love and so-far, only poetry had supplied. So goodbye for now.
For I wanted and felt, that my own revelation would be your arms, **** fleur, thinking I’d be safe there and feeling holiness while inside your open legs, being baptised by the wetting puddles you produced.
Goodbye, writing that,
feeling it’s forever.
Prophecy in poem perhaps.
Maybe in abstract ways, in obscure and teasing ways, I tasted love, the love I felt for you and it’s snatched away in quicker ways than the duration it lasted inside.
Perhaps this end of times, change of worlds, is everything wrong, my flaws, defects, regret that’s opening up to swallow me whole. And that will be the end of me.
Goodbye for now.
Maybe love knows how to moonlight.
Lust.
The freedom from the ******* of self, is an open den, full of stronger stuff than ***** **** and seducing in it’s absolute liberating methods.
Twilight.
A salt grain on my path to total enlightenment and I’ll be a single totality of illumination, even without my true love. Plucked from and placed down this world of Musings. Oh lover, I do wonder what would of happen. The only thought I dwell in, play to it’s fantasies. Perhaps it would be something we’ll laugh about together.
Good old times,
with nothing to show for. Just something shaping experiences.
I’ll go forward, not knowing how to quit love. Without any conditions or expectations of communication. Look inside, for hold intimate essence of thyself, achieving the extraordinary, because now, I have no one to prove myself to, without a yielding validation. Full of mystery and wonder. Humble with the toiling actions hands and feet. Viewed as something else to others. Thyself is normal. Humility is even harder to grasp and hold. Thy world now, full of poetry I’ve written, full of gold and silver that makes love with stopping and fail, madness never hiding behind a veil, nothing else to burden me, slowing me down, never to distract.
Knowing too much
to which will never
satisfy
my thirst, but time provide to learn more.
meditating
over
jazz ballads, smooth
surface
wondering
moods.
I’m present not with myself in comfort. Pretty words spurting out, forming sentences in hopes to evoke emotions mixed in with thoughts. Do not say hello to me now. I’ve gone elsewhere. I’ve only taken coffee and dropping off poems.
Where I’m no longer a victim of times mocking laugh with the face of a clown. No longer to decay of what I could've been. Forever exists where I live.
Without thy soulmate, I have everything but turned into nothing.
Like a monk in a monastery.
In odyssey, sleep is never, conscious always, dreamy form, full figure, waking. Tattoo drops. A saint in a province constant evolving beauty. Angels are thy neighbour. Discussing never the issues held within humanity. Passages of passionate time. Lengthy duration. Lover, if you ask me now, I got peace in my own mind and happy now. My shakes have left me, like the morning of a day beginning.
Understanding everything.
Dropped my heart, press it closer. I’ve dropped into myth, never to leave, exiled not, jailed not, prisoner not. Goodbye, I’ve left.
Perhaps I’ll be plucked again, picked again, any enlightenment given to me, will all be stripped away and wake from this wild strawberry dream.
(knowledge variable)
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 7:03 AM UTC
Not being dead, generally doesn’t mean you’re alive, gold is not always noticed. But someday, the world will end. Poets have been mysteriously quiet, outside of comfort. I shut my eyes, I part from this world, where I was born and everyone had grown accustomed to and I become alive. Freedom, I shouldn’t get lost in the gift of dreaming, what happens to a life given freely and never to live? Poetry shouldn’t be a derivative of emotion vented, a poem shouldn’t be continued to go unread, a poet should be upheld as some random romantic, knowing the harshness of life in intimate forms. Freedom, for I live here too, along the side of reality.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
So, I’ve stepped beyond the curtains,
seeing blood and wrath, now it’s time
to change my soul, transcendent
features, illumination. Wishing death
upon me, I stared at destiny and now
they wish to take my life away
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
The only person I seek to be accepted by,
is thy lover. Until then, I’ll do my best, to
accept myself. Conscious and waking in this
reality, we all contribute to, unconscious of
it or not. The poppy’s break from sealed
cases. Muse, what period of mankind
is this? It feels like almost a crime, to talk
about true love, where everything seems
to be based at aesthetic judgment, in
layman's terms, ‘face-value’. Will I quit?
They’re labelled me a major threat. Can
remind people what society has made
them forget.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 5:06 AM UTC
Poetry, is it fine to view upon
thy lover as Angel at all times?
It’s heightened in tender moments,
where she’ll rub her hand, down
my face. For how many times
poetry, I wrote poems of love,
prayed and wished upon her,
that the muses had no choice
for this uncreated love to come true.
(Now things will never be the same,
oh poetry, is my past leading to
this moment worthless, cause it
is without her or just a path in aches?
But it’s just the way it is.)
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
Not everyone is made to measure
the infinite, for those who do. Are
generally viewed upon as a paradox.
Mastering freedom, equaling to their
mystical duties, higher than humanity.
Human wealth parallels human desire,
I saw Mozart surpass everything we
know, reaching immortality, passing
human fame. Now I want do it to.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 5:41 AM UTC
(Knowledge Variable)
I can remember when the sun rose for
the first time in my life, it overloaded
my whole being with neolife, along
with neo-thoughts and sensations, I
burst into tears, disregarded my past
and it to the evening stars, like those
little rocks on the road I just walked on,
it has stayed in past, like it should,
dispersed with the supernovas. From
than, some people I saw, afflicted like
me, lived more fuller as the rest, are
seen as the walking dead, as they should
be perceived. The thought of the world,
where everyone’s muse lives, continues
to weigh me down, the act of pursuing
Residency there lightens as every step
Taken. Any act of art that I undertake,
is mere step towards it, like in every
moment I continue to develop my
true and original self, leads me towards
the deepening of my own awakening.
Now by experiencing the present, it
becomes more of a parent to my future.
Pounding heart, breathless scenes of
enchantment, I can only change those
who pay attentions and walk in, with
or without fear. I can only open up,
like the sun, to whose make effort to
do the same with me. Darker the life,
the brighter it shines, deeper the bitterness,
the closer they becoming a god.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
Conceived In Hollywood
Conceived inside of Hollywood,
you have no idea what it means to be me,
and that’s not saying we can’t relate to basic things,
but honestly other than that we wear different rings,
we move in different circles,
we don’t lose our bets or virtues,
careful kid which path you choose,
because the Truth it can hurt you,
and that’s the true too,
see,
I was conceived,
inside of Hollywood,
you have no idea what it means to be me,
and that’s not saying we can’t relate to basic things,
but honestly other than that we wear different rings,
I’ve been assigned and equipped with a grand design by Thee Divine,
seriously I’m,
not telling you anything you don’t already know,
The Secret is that there’s no secret,
even though there’s a difference between backstage and front of show,
front of show shows shows to show off to the Masses wearing rose colored glasses,
meanwhile the whole time the action that’s happening backstage is outlandish I know,
those in the In Crowd conversating and communicating to conduct the energy flow,
In other words out there is where the soulless try and fill their empty shells with our energy,
and in here is where we build and learn and communicate to create everything for the show,
so,
what choice does that leave me with,
was initiated before birth,
see I’m more than a human I’m an idea,
I am the healing I am the hurt,
I am in line to have the last laugh even though my pole is first,
pole,
as in pole position,
should have to spell it out for you,
but sometimes you have to open up their eyes before they can see the vision,
my eyes are open as a wise old Owl perched upon a castle’s turret having visions,
this just in,
no News is news,
when,
you are Reality,
I was conceived,
inside of Hollywood,
you have no idea what it means to be me,
and that’s not saying we can’t relate to basic things,
but honestly other than that we wear different rings,
we know different people,
we do different things,
there’s very few who rule it’s true,
that’s not a mystery,
that’s not even a dispute,
that’s fact,
100% Truth.
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
America’s Son
Dear America,
what have you become,
so busy worried about where you’re going,
that you’ve forgotten where you’re from,
I am your begotten son,
and I love you,
I love you,
more than these wonderful words can say,
I love you but I don’t know what to do,
because I fear that you’ve gone astray,
like an abusive drunken Trump father,
or a used up distracted Hilary mother,
you seem so drunkenly enraged by greed,
engaged in a lustful want that you falsely believe is a need,
Oh say can you see,
by the dawn’s early light,
we bomb people we’ve never even seen before,
something must be wrong because nothing feels right,
why,
why am I scared of you,
maybe it’s your violent tendencies,
maybe it’s your egotistical ways,
maybe it’s how you’ve created all these enemies,
and now these enemies won’t just leave us alone and go away,
Oh say,
can you see,
by the dawn’s early light,
you are my parents and I look up to you,
I love to see the Statue of Liberty’s guiding light,
but honestly,
at this point I don’t know what to do,
I am your son,
and even after all you’ve put me through I still love you,
but I am absolutely terrified at what you’ve become,
what we’ve all become,
and even when I run far away to try and escape,
I realize we are family so no matter how far I run,
I am still an American,
because I am America’s Son,
come,
back home,
back to the times of apple pies peace and butterflies,
before,
the drones,
and satellites appeared ominously like shooting stars in the summer skies,
come,
inside,
let’s talk about life over home cooked pie,
like why have we had to capitalize off destruction,
why do we still have war what is it’s real function,
why destroy when we can construct a constant connection,
a solid foundation with good intentions and clear instructions,
so we can finally heal and move forward as a family that properly functions,
be a good husband,
be a good wife,
be a good person,
have a good life,
look,
it’s not that complicated,
see all us children would forgive all your mistakes,
if only you’d just admit that you made them,
he served two tours in Iraq gave his all and lost his life,
and all he got in return is the grave you gave him,
God please save him,
he was a good kid,
even though he killed,
he did it because his Uncle Sam told him to,
please don’t place him beneath us in Hell,
Uncle Sam didn’t know any better either,
and it seems his parents had raised him quite well,
but Uncle Sam’s not his brother’s keeper,
I am and I know my brothers well,
and when any of us lose any of our lives,
we only pray we leave with a story to tell,
because maybe we believe,
that when we leave this life we lead,
at least we leave the world a little bit better,
from sea to shining sea,
at least,
a little bit,
better…
Whatever,
what more do you want me to say,
I love you I am your son,
but I’m scared and that feeling won’t go away,
Oh say,
can you see,
by the dawn’s early light,
I write by the light of the bright stars,
and through these words I’ve earned my stripes,
and honestly America,
as much as I distrust and despise you I still put no one above you,
even though I’m ashamed of you for invading our privacy like an enema,
I don’t even trust you anymore and I used to only trust you,
you’re like a blemish on otherwise perfect skin like eczema,
I’m embarrassed of the ways in which you’ve behaved and all you’ve put us through,
but I am still your begotten son,
and I still love you…
Oh say can you see,
by the dawn’s early light…
∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
Volume 1 of my new trilogy about Hollywood is now available worldwide.
I’ve decided to donate ALL of the profits of this new trilogy to three charities.
Volume 1 profits will go to a charity that prevents ****** abuse and assault on children.
Please support my new book and by doing so you’ll not only be helping prevent ****** assault, but you’ll also be helping set an important precedent in making a statement to other artist,
saying that we all need to start giving back and helping each other more than we have.
PLUS you’ll also be getting an epic book of poetry from an epic best selling poet.
Let’s make charity cool and change the perception of coolness for the better.
Who cares what car you drive or what clothes you wear anymore?
What now matters is what you’re doing to help those with less.
We all live in this world we together and we can all give more.
It took me six months and thousands of dollars to create this trilogy in it’s entirety,
and all I am asking is for is a few dollars and a few minutes of your time.
We made the last book I published #1 and we can do it again.
Purchase a copy for less than it cost for a cup of coffee,
and WRITE AN HONEST REVIEW about the book.
If you really don’t have 3 dollars to spend,
at least repost this message,
or respond to this message,
or something,
anything.
∆
Here is the link for purchasing/reviewing the book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC