Royal indeed it is my Scottish mile,
May I borrow your body awhile,
Your brew gives me just the smile,
I'll save you forever in my travelers file!!

Another year now, another year new,
whiskey, one too many a few,
like strangers who haven' a clue,
one more night, at the backpacker's blue!!

Now or never, those eyes shine forever,
in my senses, in my heart, in my pyre,
bagpipes printed over the hogmanay's flyer,
singin, hey ya'll, cry me a ****** river!!

I must be incredibly wary
and alert
and I gotta follow my gut because there’s a reason to why
it aches
or jumps with excitement;
it knows
much more than my head does;
and I must hold myself firmly like a proud statue, but I can’t just stay in one place
I need to tiptoe on a tightrope
I mustn’t fall, but if I do, I mustn’t fuss
just get back up again,
just get on with it

I went to an art gallery this afternoon
and the theme of one small contemporary art room
was,
“just get on with it”,
(I decided that myself anyway);
there was a painting of an airplane, resting on snow,
that one was obvious
I said, “just get on with it, then, fly”
there was a painting of a snowy road,
that one was obvious too
there was a painting of a sad girl
again, obvious
but then there was a painting of a person
with a large smudge of green on his face, he barely had a face
and a large smudge of white on his waist, he barely had a waist;
I concluded,
“sometimes you don’t have a face and you just need to get on with it”
because my mood was easy breezy silly this afternoon;
but now I’m thinking
sometimes you lose your identity
and you just need to get on with it

I can barely take anyone serious when they ask the question,
“who am I?”
the answer is obvious if you allow simplicity into your heart,
“you’re what you are experiencing and feeling and being right now, and it’ll change all the time in every moment”
so,
I feel kind of commiserable
and much of a parody
for sitting in a busy mall foodcourt, with a cup of coffee I didn’t even buy at that foodcourt,
remixing an old song on garageband,
then looking up and realizing I’m surrounded by all of these kiwi strangers
and finally asking the question
“who am I”
oh I’m a lunatic, aren’t I?

I must be open, but not too open
and easy to get along with, but not too easy to get along with
I must catch a wave on the first try,
but if I wipe out, I mustn’t turn red;

I need to watch what I say
before I say it
but also find the courage to speak
when I’m shy
and I must be considerate
but not let people walk all over me

I can’t be a pushover, and I can’t be too much of a leader
because I don’t know what I’m doing
here;
I can love but I shouldn’t fall in love
at least for awhile
because I’m still high from the transition and I’m dubious of how
authentic and sincere
my falling in love
would be

worrying is the most unnecessary thing
money isn’t an issue
(right now)
and loneliness is a blessing
but it’s also a sickness
and I must remind myself that I’m worth not being lonely
and instead being free
and above all,
I am capable of anything I set my mind to,
even if I forget
“who I am”
or “what I wanna be”
above all,
I must always be me.

I felt like a backpacker that night.
I think it was the katydids.
At home it’s the frogs,
all shouting over each other, but somehow
finding a rhythm.

But here,
a pulse presses into me in my sleep
and I roll over to face the seething embers.
I know I’ve drawn things out with X,
but this is what narcissism means to me:
stoking the embers each time.

Tonight I am a backpacker
on the west side of a mountain.
Having slept through the sunset,
now I’m lying awake—
sleepless and small—
as ants find their way across my skin.

If they’re not sleeping, they must be working—
long jaunts between brief naps—
while the queen sleeps.

When I’m home,
I’ll close my windows and,
drown these embers in dry reds—
shiraz and merlot—
and sleep like the queen for once.

Backpack strapped back to my back packed up ready for the next destination,
got a train then caught a plane from Lisbon to Budapest but got no rest,
now it's time to go again & I’m all out of answers but I do have a question,
if I’ve been awake in this American Dream for so long then when do I rest?

See,
people on the outside say my life is great & they say it with a hint of envy,
they say that I’m who they want to be or at least that’s what they say to me,
& honestly I'm too tired to thank them nor have the patience to engage them,
because I'm racin' to the next destination on a spaceship with a window seat,

daydreaming awake & gazin' out the window wow this view is amazin',
see it's more about what you leave in than it is about what you came in,

but honestly,
I’m depressed,
& honestly,
now that I've got everything else I'd like to finally get some rest,

I'm upset,
still having a good time though I must admit,
because I'm blessed with the rest of the best of the Jet Set clique yes,
but must confess I'd like to find a nice nest where I can get some night rest,

because I’m tired of going whichever direction I'm pulled,
tired of going wherever the wind blows,
& I know it's an honor to receive all these invitations,
to all these events all over the world,

but it's as exhausting as it is awesome,
so I'm searching,
for redemption & as God's son,
through my sins I am praying,

God,
please take me home,
if life Itself is a prayer,
& we bless everywhere that we roam,
then it shouldn't matter that I never made it to church,
it should only matter that I'm a Believer that believes in redeeming his soul,

oh no here we go,
I wanted to take the time to marinate & elaborate,
but I'm writing this at a fast pace with haste because I’ve got a flight to catch,
& if I stay here any longer to take the time to elaborate I’ll be very late,

& once again I put down the pen in order to make my next date,

so I’m back packing,
I’m backpacking as backpacker not a back tracker,
so I'm moving forward because I've got a feeling that I can’t ignore anymore,
which is that there's more in store to explore & everything's still exciting,

& I want to share all of these experiences with you,

but I can't take you with me so instead of inviting you I’m writing cues,
to help you find the clues in all these experiences I'm going through,
as I live it up to the limit of the sky no gimmicks I'll admit to you why,
it's because I’m only living this life & visiting these towns for you,

so come spend some time with me,
so we can be together before we both go away,
because we all know what They all say,
baby tomorrow isn’t promised today,

tomorrow isn't promised today,

& that’s why I’m back packing,
getting ready for the next destination & always ready for action,

backpack strapped back to my back packed up ready for the next destination,
got a train then caught a plane from Lisbon to Budapest but got no rest,
now it's time to go again & I’m all out of answers but I do have a question,
if I’ve been awake in this American Dream for so long then when do I rest?

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆

New Book FREE:
www.scribd.com/document/388173677/The-Holy-Trilogy-Volume-2-Mandalas

Bio HERE:
www.amazon.com/Aaron-La-Lux/e/B00ODPJAOK

softly humming and deftly proceeding
unobtrusive like a shy one at a gathering
i make myself obscure and inconsequential
though my heart tells me it's only a matter of time
before i make my mark and cause a stir among my peers
and before we hear the distinct sound of the bell's chime
as it calls upon all and sundry, far and wide across the land
to declare their love in soft tones and hearts serene and sincere
to look upon love with wondering eyes that burn with longing
and drink to the love of a lifetime in a sunset glass blown by a master
thereafter to sing a song that is a tale of love unlimited and hope eternal
the thing to remember is the image of a backpacker at some lodge
sinking with the yellow sun in an obscure room where he lays his head
though he knows it not, his ritual daily enacts our final days

It's been weeks since I last recognized.
I haven't had a buddy sit across me
Enthusiastically chomping while moving his mouth.
Neither during times when I traverse stretches of land
Have I had a Second to push me along,
at the same time un-bore me.

Yet my problem's solution is simple:
GO out, OPEN the door, LET everyone in and everything out
But that
is not who I am.

You can only dream of
places I have been
Mentally,
All the things
I did for my family,
All they did,
instead of helping me,
Is trying to
put sense in me,
When I come to a point
Where I am
about to plead insanity,
A room of variances,
Out of body experiences,
Mental *******,
Heart full of spasms,
The ones
my past couldn’t fathom,
This ain’t a struggler’s anthem,
But I can’t help but,
Generalize,
And I can’t undermine,
That I felt heaven,
At least on my fingertips,
I found hope,
At the brink of disbelief,
Don’t blame the postman,
If you put the wrong address,
Life is a *****,
depending on how you dress her,
Let the broken glass,
Mess up the dresser,
Rosewood, Redwood, any wood,
If I could I would,
The more I clench my fists,
the more sand I loose,
But I choose not to,
just my screws,
My life is like a travelogue,
No just ticket needed just travel along,
Like a broken pen and a moleskin,
A DSLR and an eye to watch closely,
No backpacker,
Just a bad actor,
Modern day rye catcher,
Self financer ,
A mere puppet on the string,
That life hangs by,
finding questions to some bad answers,
Putting up with bad promise makers,
When a promise may curse,
Life is just a makeshift,
Life is what you make it,
Or make of it

With each poem,
I get closer in becoming a lovable Golem.

So what's hot in the streets
I’m mean
I beat women,
OG
I’ve seen prison
I even eat kittens
We winning
Mr. Kelly met me
he let me *** with him.

I’m so deep with words it could sound like an eternity
one day they will close read my rhymes in every university
I only make vinyls
and I serve emcees that burn CDs,
I’m so undergrounds even my fans haven’t even heard of me,
nah,
I got money son,
all my watches are custom done
by the time
I set the time
my butler comes with another one
I’m gutter son,
the razors in my mouth are just to cut my gums,
My facebook is set to private son
you don’t know where the **** I’m from

Imma poet,
roses are red
Moses ovaries bled
Supernova explodes,
when my pen exposes it led.
I once mounted a soul, when its body was chemically dead,
If you don’t know my poetries dope, its because its going over your head,
nah,

I’m so Hip Hop I crip walk in flip flops,
Imma mix of Rick ross, and lil kris kross,
Imma gang banger
nah,
scratch that, imma backpacker,
rap is just a stepping stone in becoming a bad actor,
imma crack rapper,
actually sponsor by arm and hammer
I **** with some proper grammar
make government propaganda
What ever it takes to get my face in front a hundred cameras
**** rap!
I’ll tell everyone in the stands to throw their hands up,

What I am
should be obvious.

Imma positive rapper I swear my mom is a pastor
I got a pocket quran
I almost read all of the chapters,
and Imma get a couple grammys,
yep and an emmy,
I'm family friendly,
even your old freakin granny gets me.

Back in the day when life gave us lemons
we made lemonade
never straight
never made a track that was second grade
In seventh grade
it was never about getting paid
thats why we spend more money than we ever made,
I used to love it but **** it,
I’m giving up
imma puppet,
I’m anything,
I’m everything, if you got money in your pocket
Congratulations to sponsors on creating a monster
All you haters are just making me stronger

And now all my fans hate me,
They say “I liked you before you were mainstream”
******* so did I somebody should of paid me
Imma Iconic,
byproduct,
And no ones tryna buy product,
Ironic,
want my chronic
but won’t put five on it,
but I promise,
give me an idea and i’ll build it,
I make your eyes pop out of your eye sockets,
so y’all can go ahead and be some hip hop heads,
pressing free download’,
until hip hops dead,
Please,
just keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
make sure you keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
make sure you keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
Please!!!

Motions croak in crimped t-shirts
Peace hurts the leg of 3 wheelers
Spit in a book, carefully holding hands over healers
Frosted articulation of bricks hitting off buildings
The doctor resumes surgery on the filming
Actress gummy mouthed backpacker sharing rooms with a jet-lagger galvanizing goo
If I phone myself, I’ll phone you too
Ad-hoc hop around dentures holding saxophones, laziness is the common king around here
Match the sketch with the deliriant fear free freedom and sneer
Shut the promo drunk and dolo
Potions of pogos bouncing so low
Both bones focal, keeping in a smile from an eye perched over the edge spitting on the populous
Attacking formulas with cruel gruel from the oesophagus
Wilting oxalis wooded in obelisks
Mortal coil in amphetamine greed for the sleep
Positioned slightly awkward and barely out of reach
Been seen being dreams piercing holes in the purple of the seeds
Peace is deemed green, free me from the iron between the sheets
Coins flipped in a river and an etude rings out with a profound sense of urgency
Won't wake up faces blindly painted deranged by a 5 sided box that gave fame to what was contained
Warp the wattage, walk in nervous
Hold cosmic stardust in one hand
Another a phone to call the best man
To marry the two hands and I’m sure the priest will understand
Hairs on the ceiling float through the window and provide an outspoken account of how they are feeling
Canisters of friendship huffed in the backs of vans till passing point seizures explain themselves
9mm film reel candy bars and ring modulation skeletal structure cat gut harps
Never finish a walk to work without beginning the start
Trolleys of Dolly Parton facelifts
Knife cutter butterfly anaesthesia makeshift
Hollow bellies of pardoned mop heads becoming a commodity
I can't say sorry if I begin to speak so oddly
I’d say probably yes if you lit a fire beyond the fence where the old man gambles drop-***** with 50 pence
Bite down on copper, synchronise the action
Winter comes and goes like conversation going out of fashion
Morbid, terra-fin switches waterbeds
Hints home at spit-roasting ostrich heads
Cost and effect, cause and intellect
The castle puts his foot down only to find a horses neck
Zipped up in honey, the combs hive mind should reconsider its self lucky
Unorthodox autodidact naturally diffracting compound eye composes paranoia and lies
The patronage of the savant is murderous and contrived
Its better out than in
The constant metaphor for unluckiness
Is where we begin
Radiance in a hot water semi permeable membrane crescent
Strokes the backs of frogs in the desert, stars iridescent and sun bears a weapon
Hammocks, ****, sweat on the brow, split lips on cornerstones of the solstice in the dead of now
Space-age ape on the country road lets out a cough
Caution to the hissing hills ****** in hidden zygotic havens
Actors have no time to cut themselves shaving
Austro-Bavarian chemical burns Molotov cocktail sewers
Crayons let me draw this face on, paint the day on and on, it gets newer
Its the context at which you and I notice the separation, that cues canned humour

We're all ok
With the wind on our backs
But misdirected anger needs a home
And it needs it fast
(Silver string turning grey)
A backpacker walking
Ain't no walker with a knapsack
No more snappy fingers
******* another's soul
Call it your own
(Silver string turning grey)
The network of loneliness
A bunch of faded glories
Doing time
For the pain of another
We beg for contact
And we know we'll never find it
But it's out there
We beg for mercy
When we've already found it
Within ourselves
(Silver string turning grey)
Cynics are dreamers
Watching the shiny happy people
Float on by
In cement shoes

Women say that love is a good year for the United States
urban white men women mother woman night network
night night Allah, Australia, the American people, speed
daughter The best of three; Russia, Europe, South Asia,
water Min Ara Canada, Canada, Google Brown Stars;
Grant blood fire changes the story Cool German friends'
blue Greek, dog, color, white air, half Thomas.
The incapacity of the Christian front prevented
the ignition of animals and small cheeses from
the blood of the ****** ****** battle,
and the question in French and Yankee;
******* ******* ******* full day
golden brown of a dead donkey Roberts
Brazil calls the stupid orange citrus orange
from the hand of the old Google Brown
Brown Grove playing the daughter of
Christina, daughter of the Italian Imunju
Somewhere in Hebrew glasses of the night
landscape Sun Jorge II summer power Braille
Poem. It is time to play the Dunlop Voice
with the colors of the flowers that are used
in wild and specialized companies,
like Saudi Arabia, to protect Asia
and make sure the ads are tigers.
Eli Museum MX Easy Easy Bravo
King Rico Writing Earth's
Free download Vitam SAP
Modern video Cigarette treatment
Register Doors Country England D
Family Topography Family For the
whole family Help French Health
Star-oriented products Einstein Table
Highly Complex Memory area;
Philosophy Memory Recall Memory
early maturation of the main entrance
General functions of the door Family
obedient to God today, Marie Marie,
window of the master cinema, lake,
Sea of ​​Coral, area of ​​the sea, plastic,
Veswa, Giorgia M works in a lifestyle
where Barbie Barbears began About
shat best kisser interviewer Aṣadọrọ's
eyebrows attracted me controversial
conflict between genius Jack Backpacker.
This money spoiled prostitution
and so on. Wash these white pears
and finish with soap, oil, umbrella,
spices, glue. Moon States, Evan,
Ivan, Bulbian Bar Acid Ice Cream
Bar 19th Century Club Club; Mad
African Dress Royal ****, Beautiful
Beautiful You can also find more
information about Raja Amarika,
Saphaida, Sahiri Jiwan, Auratāṁ,
Iratāṁ, March, Sagitarius khīmī »,
core rats , impressive Vada Hari,
Paramata, āsaṭrēlī'ā, zippers, afarīkī-
amariīkana garaarza, garalaza, MAM,
baisāṭa Tina, Russia, yūrōpa, Italy,
yphrrypa -phatry-frysry Camana's
enfolding play, caṛhāna Khuna, dōsatāṁ,
the establishment of Badali Jaraman
Teddy Bear Yunika of Avam Pan is not
corrected or Warra of Veto Choice to
prove that this is the name of the wife
of Pharaoh and Sisters, they walked in
the hand, it is useless. Bulgarian
bullets Khali Khali Citara Janavara
The last day, Lana Raja is a new person
who is in a state of life in the state
of China. DHI Robota Agala krīṭīna
iṭālī'ā hē'araḍara ALARUKA PARAKA
Bala phārasī lost asamānāṁ potential
acānaka suputarāṁ ingenious reasons
sanasarāvāṁ? mala mary za Sudara
ṭaimpala Version of the Russian library
of the library Philalaza mukhha Philata
Zhenshchiny govoryat, chto lyubov 'eto
khoroshiy god dlya Soyedinennykh Shtatov
belykh gorodskikh muzhchin Zhenshchiny
materi zhenshchiny zhenshchina set'vecher
noch 'dnya zelenyy allakh Avstraliya
amerikanskoy skorost' lyudey doch '
Luchshiy iz tri Rossii Yevropy Italii
Yuzhnoy Azii vody Min Ara English
Kanada Google Braun Zvezdy Grant
krovi ogn 'izmenyayet istoriyu nemetskikh
druzey kholodnoy goluboy grecheskoy
sobaki, tsveta, belogo vozdukha, polovina
Tomas. Nedeyesposobnost 'perednego
khristianskogo zazhiganii preventor
zhivotnykh i nebol'shiye syry iz krovi
****** krovavogo buoy, i vopros na
frantsuzskom i Yankee; Prostitutka
Prostitutka Prostitutka ******* polnogo
den 'zolotoye zolotoye tsarstvo mertvogo
osel Roberts Braziliya nazyvayet glupuyu
oranzhevy tsitrusovyye oranzhevoye otruki
starogo Google Brown Brown Grouv
tolkuyushchey doch Docheri Kristiny
docheri, docheri ital'yanskogo Imunju
Gde-to v Hebrew stekol nochnogo
peyzazha solntse Khorkhe II leto sila
sila tantsa Bal stikhotvoreniya. Prishlo
vremya, chtoby igrat 'Dunlanda Golos
s tsvetami tsvetov, ispol'zuyemykh v
dikoy prirode i spetsializirovannykh
kompaniy, takikh kak Saudovskaya
Araviya, chtoby zashchitit' Aziyu i
ubedites ', chto ob "yavleniya tigr Eli
Muzey MX Easy Easy Khrabrogo korol'
Rich Dat 'Land Besplatno skachat' Vitam
SAP Sovremennykh video Cigarette
Lecheniye Zapis' Doors Strana Angliya
D sem'ya Topografiya sem'ya Dlya vsey
sem'i Pomoshchi frantsuzskikh produktov
zdravookhraneniya, oriyentirovannykh
na zvezdy Eynshteyn Tabel Vysokogo
                                                 kompleksa oblast 'pamyati Memory Filosofii
vosstanovleniye pamyati pamyat' or
ranneye sozrevaniye glavnogo vkhoda
Obshchiye funktsii dveri Sem'ya poslushnym
Bogu segodnya Mari Mari, okno kino
mastera, ozera, Korallovoye more, morskoy
rayon, plastik, Veswa, Giorgia M robotayet
v obraze zhizni God Barbie Barbears nachal
slyshat 'O interv'yuyera

Dear Don Alberto
Flamboyant Octogenarian
To a pair of weather-beaten families on the Camino
And to Backpacker Bridget from Granada via Barnsley
And to all who seek shelter from the Galician downpours
You sound
Like an Angel
As you hold aloft your otherworldly radio
And play for us Tina Turner’s
Simply the Best
On happy repeat.

Dear Don Alberto
With your doggy entourage
To a bunch of Ryanair Refugees on the Camino
And to uber cool Bridget naturalised Granadina don’t mention Barnsley
And to all who seek sanctuary from the Galician heatwaves  
You taste
Like a rustic slice of empanada
Rich deep and
Eternally replenishing itself.

You weren’t ever on our map
Don Alberto, were you?
The ID cards you offer up for inspection
Make us laugh at the farce of our controls and borders.

And so
To us make-shift pilgrims on the Camino
You show us how to journey properly
Dancing the salsa
On every roundabout.


Simon Piesse

The mind clings to forms
to hold against the silence
to guard itself from you
the secret deadly enemy
hanging out on your own front stoop
winkin’ at your little sister
and begging for an invite to dinner
you can let him pass too
onto the vapor of a conjured illusion
you can let the words
coming from here get stronger
you can hear me more clearly and louder
the self that you buried
under the rot of yesterday’s tomorrow
all that chatter is of no matter you can tell

But don’t tell of the nonsense
of nothings wrapped in desire
that’s old news
from days when newspapers were read
that talk takes the time
of a 20th century backpacker
hiking Truth’s trail
NOW is the only time that there is
for waking from the ringing of the bell
don’t stomp out the silence
the one answer screaming
the reality one is

Only in silence you remember the key
to the treasure in the chest
holding your heart crafted in love
isn’t that the whole happiness quotient
wrapped up like a perfect peace package
I just can’t comprehend the human species
and its endless repeating crimes
how many life sentences
does one have to get
to see only the Self and be free
burn off the rest of the pride
every lyin’ thought’s last roar into dust
forms can’t hold true life
it’s real light making ghostly forms known

gazing into the wavering winter sun,
earth and sky become one mantle of silver shimmering mist,
clouds hover stubbornly refusing to wander away,
obscuring the sun's caress from.my face.

the wind has decided to breeze away early,
anxious to keep some prior arranged appointment,
cattle tracks in the mud remind me of the sign on the gate
'bulls in field"
noting the 's'. (as if one isn't bad enough).

I meet a backpacker lurching
precariously through the dead heather
carrying an entire house on his back,
studiously trying to avoid deep hidden puddles.

gnarled trees with birds nest 'hair-dos'
cling tenaciously among the crags,
the birds flown off to sunnier climes
leaving the whispering moors in their wake.

heavy brooding clouds must insist on following me,
intent on hammering me with their stair-rod rain,
air distills into a denser fog-saturated mist
reluctantly my frozen feet turn for home..