I'm not sure how much of you I know yet.
I know that 75% of you is a river
while the remaining 25% of you remains unknown.
I am making you sound like a science text book.

The other day, I called you music, and flowers,
and everything else I could think of that
would grab your lips and make them curve upward
to smile.

I'm not good at writing poems for people
who have made my veins into a swimming pool
to backstroke through.
I'm not used to being warm like this.

I know that we can sometimes be identical and sometimes,
it's hard to convince you that you're breathing
but let me put it this way,
you are hurricane Katrina, the shredded buildings,
the ceramic plate my mother made for me through the aftermath.
When I was 15, it was hanging on the wall and fell
from a thunderclap. Yellow, with my name on it.
I have called you baby on an estimate of four times a day
and we are trying to fix it.

We will slow dance in the living room and
we will not notice the windows whistling
but what you do not know it sounds like a storm
but love, I hear you name through the cracks in the doors
when the rain sets in.

I haven't said much already.
Hurricanes are awful and you think you're more like the
sound the sky makes when it's upset.
But everyone likes the name Katrina anyway.
Metaphors don't get me anywhere but listen,
hold me like I am the only building you do not want to destroy.

I'm not a very strong swimmer,
I'm trying really hard
to keep my head above the water.

My soul is exhausted,
my body and my mind
are going through absolute torture.

Me, panicking,
makes it even harder
to stay afloat...

I ain't going out like this!
Hell no!!
I ain't going out on this note!

I'll keep trying to swim
through the rising swells and waves,
I'll paddle and backstroke
my way back to shore,

I'll do what a survivor does,
I'll keep swimming
until I just can't swim no more.

I'm usually as warm and bright
as a little ray of sunshine...

But, lately,
I can't even seem to radiate
as much light as the dimmest glare
of moon shine.

I've been a warrior
all of my life,
my history is my proof,

But I'm not as strong as I once was,
I'm not as resistant as I was in my youth.

I'm gonna make it back to shore.
And if I happen to lose my pen
along the way...
I'll be alright!

I'll write my message in the sand
using my finger - in hope that God in heaven
will read it, and bestow upon me
some mercy, by shinning upon me
some much needed courage,
strength, and light.

By Lady R.F ©2016

As the line between our private lives,
& the public eye blurs,
all the old paradigms dissolve,
& nothing becomes as it was before,

only a few months more,
to get this riddle solved,
feeling like The Batman The Joker,
& Lois Lane all rolled in one,

my new name is Nigiri,
on a roll hot like wasabi,
my threads are all designer,
& my hobbies are all hobbies,

I am definitely not sure at all,
well at least definitely not probably,

babbling’ with talking heads,
while jousting with the walking dead,
because we’re up right now up right now,
that's right the life of the party,

& you all probably already know all this,
because the whole time was Live recording,
Instagram Live Streaming all the time,
I'm dreaming at the same time touring,

every moment recorded,
even when it's not at all important,
off script but don't trip,
because we're still part of the program,

so before I even wake up,
you already know the whole thing,
you already know what happened,
the night before the morning,

the Knight Before The Mourning,

sounds a bit prolific & prophetic,
at least a little bit don’t you think,
but what’s it matter the least little bit, if no one takes the time to think,

they’re just getting their nails done,
in the salon in the bottom of the boat,
as it sinks & we just think,
“Well I hope at least the lifeboat floats”,

in a bit of a panic,
like Leo in the Titanic,
searching for my romantic Winslet,
before we both sink in this disaster,

see I see you drowning in this sea,
& I still love you even after everything,
so I swim over & my hand I outreach,
hoping you'll grab hold before you sink,
so I can backstroke with you on my back,
& swim us both to an island beach,

specifically Leo's island,
you know the one Blackadore Caye,
he actually asked me to run the island,
said it was just a bunch of palm trees,

& I know this is reality,
even though it all feels like a dream,
so I close my eyes pray for better times,
then open my eyes to focus & blink,

blink,

blink,

blink,

blink,

the camera is always on,
the recording is always running,
this is layer cake no this is pound cake,
no this is the first ring around the onion,

onions in the sink,
got my eyes running made me think,
turned the water off got a wash cloth,
then took a moment to blink,

blink,

blink,

blink,

blink,

as the line between our private lives,
& the public eye blurs,
all the old paradigms dissolve,
& nothing becomes as it was before,

only a few months more,
to get this riddle solved,
feeling like The Batman The Joker,
& Lois Lane all rolled in one,

∆ LaLux ∆

from The Sydney Sessions
the follow up from multiple # best selling author Aaron Lux
new book available for FREE here: https://www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps

Originally filed under
sad little number
who's heart was broke
but...
you can now see me
in the sea
of your regret
happy doing the backstroke :)

The truth?
The truth is that he was only beautiful when he was on drugs
So, he was almost always beautiful
No
He was almost always gorgeous
But it didn't matter.
He'd never get high enough to touch heaven
The holes he poked in his arms wouldn't fill the hole in his life
Nothing he could ever say would un-cry my tears, un-shoot those bullets, or un-break our hearts
Running away wouldn't make that one life-ruining ***** cell do a backstroke
He was beautiful when he was on drugs
But he wasn't on drugs when that little stick turned pink
He wasn't on drugs when I walked in and out of that clinic alone
He wasn't on drugs when I had to sit down and tell his parents and mine that there was no more "baby"
No
He wasn't on drugs
​He just wasn't there.