Schwinny, Baby,
You were supposed to be

my

Bicycle.

So I don't ask for anthing special.
No dark Harley divas
To whisk me off into the sunset.

But I thought we were at least
On the same road together.
So please.
Don't go droaning on how
Life got too complicated.
I mean,
You've got one flimsy gear.
And don't go moaning how
The road got too bumpy.
I mean,
You went blind bonzai batshit
over burnt black tar pavement.

You just
Let go.
Threw away your
Chain of reasoning
Faster than I could brace for impact.

So am I bleeding?
Yeah, I'm bleeding.

And the worst part is,
I still need you!
No, No, no.
Not like Pom Pom pammy
Needs her purple-plated pogo stick
Nor like Princess Paris
And her prissy pink prom queen limo,

No.
I mean I need I need you like
Alibaba needs his golden cherub camel,
Like Ben Hur his crimson-fury chariot.

Because work is 37. Blocks. Away.
And it starts in 16 minutes.
And the bus is really unreliable.

So we ride again,
Guts against the wind.
But now I've got all ten fingers and toes
Crossed,
Two by two,
And point in fact,
Racing down Guadalupe with
Forked Philanges
Gets really hairy.

But your suicidal tendancies simply scare me.
Your thirst to incur first degree burns,
Fractured femurs,
And flayed skin whittles my patience
To tire track thin!

Think I'll
Roll my dice with a Segway.
She'd be a quaint, play it safe kind of girl.
Type to show off
To a Mom and Dad
Reveling in rosemary jubilation.
Aw, son.
We knew you'd land a keeper. That's my boy.

But in ten days tops,
I'd begin to miss your fiery imbalanced breath.
I'd yearn for your bipolar 180 turns that
Make my heart skip that terrible, syncopated beat.

So let's just say,
I'll give it one more shot.
But *****, just promise you'll stick around a little longer.
It's storming outside and
We both got a few blocks to go.

Hello, I am at the candle festival and I just had a beautiful gluten free curry but the only problem is it had potatoes oh well I will go back to my diet tomorrow
What is the candle festival about if you can't break your diet
Ok well there was water bombs where I can guess you throw them, oh the kids throw them
What a bit of fun and there was a Japanese version of our national anthem advance Australia fair and there is also judo demonstrations and the nara school all the way from Japan are just about to take to the stage and by golly there are a lot of kids there, I am wondering what songs will the play, something hip I imagine
The first song got the kids dancing and a big yellow and black thank you on the back
Of the back line and the next song is some old kids song done in Japanese and mate these kids are amazing the second song sounded like when your ears hang low waddle to and fro tie them in a knot tie them in a bow and mate if you can't get what that song is you are a bit of a clot and now on the stage there is a lady with a Japanese fan, and she sounds cool and now she is dancing stylishly with a carousel and mind you she looks good, the next performers on the stage are Riley lee and Steve Allen and it will be interesting what music they play for us one played acoustic and the other played the flute and mate it was peaceful as you look toward the lake and trees and the beautiful candles that are in the garden ready to be lit
Riley and Steve gave a really cool performance of acoustic and the flute and coming up next there will be a chef with a very big salmon and I wonder what that will be like, I guess it will be ever so groovy dudes
This chef very carefully cuts the salmon to very small portions
And maybe he might have a bit of sushi ha ha, he is cutting the fish without touching it with his hand mind you he has a bit of a problem doing it but he is amazing  
The chef finished early
So he went back on stage to explain about his knives that he was using for the cutting of the salmon and there is a special basic way to cut the fish/sushi
Whatever you want to call it
I really like how they add the chrysanthemum flower and he is cutting it with so much care as he puts the flower in the middle of the fish and the people are coming over bringing their dinner and it is hard to understand if the smell is coming from a fish and if you remember the Simpsons when they had a poisoness fish if you cut it wrong and he mentioned that fish as he was carefully cutting it and mate, he looks like he really knows his fish  
And that was really amazing and from the aboretum in Canberra they are bringing out a special tree called the bonzai tree and the tree dates back to the year of 1989 and this tree looks great
And as the tree goes off the stage, we are about to see the official candle lighting ceremony which promises to be very cool
Coming out to officially say some words from the ambassador of Japan and Andrew Barr who is the chief minister of the national capital
As they are about to make the speech of the 15th candle festival and they are lighting the candles on the stage and they are about to go to the candle garden to place the lantern
The music started a bit later than last year but we really need some audience participation to get everyone cheering and the first song is my island home which is a rather nice song but we need some audience participation to wake them up a bit but I am not saying that he is a bad singer
I am just thinking bring on the exciting singers and after one performance the singing was unsatisfactory and I went for a walk in the candle garden which had some pretty candles with trees and buildings, yeah and I will show you the photos I got from the candle garden in the pictures yeah it was a good night out apart from the rain making a few appearances but overall I give it a 7 out of 10
They needed to have more audience participation toward the end to encourage people to stay and not go home

Dads first girl after mom
Was a painter named Charlotte
Shari for short, like her blonde hair
That's how she wore it
She had a tattoo of a dragon,
And liked pink orchids
And her mom had bonzai trees
Around the garden
She let me cut out pictures of bears
And glue them to cardboard, daisies in my hair
Daddy and Shari broke up when I was 9
Doesn't last long for a druggie and his dime
I still hear her slippers
On the stairs, up and down
Charlotte The Painter is a doctor now

Bonzai Tree
Hang me from your palm
Comfort me with your leaves
Blanket me in your bark
And sing me a lullaby, so sweet
Your twigs will sway
So here I can lay
Finally a peace, with your melody
I’ll stay here forever in your embrace
My final goodbye,
Bonzai Tree

Everyone’s looking for an escape,
a virtual reality with alternative facts,
virtual because it’s almost reality,
except it’s reality without all the commitment,

and within,
a virtual reality we can augment,
what it used to be like back in base reality,
and we can ponder on where the time went,

& when  I say time,
I’m referring to the time in reality spent,
because after all reality is the only thing real,
and the experiences within them are the only thing you can’t invent,

see the truth is the only thing that exists in actually existence,

yeah sometimes truth is stranger than fiction,
ask Buckaroo Bonzai,
ask Stephen Hawkings ask Steve Jobs and,
ask yourself why you’re alive,

why you put up with the pain,
why you put yourself through,
why you still hesitate to act on instinct,
when you know there’s nothing to it but to do it,

everyone too scared to speak up,
but everyone wants to be a hero,
there’s not much purity to speak of,
and evil seems to wear a halo,

hey bro,
or sis,
or whatever label,
you label yourself with,

there’s not much untainted land left,
there’s not much clean water,
the days are getting shorter,
and the nights are getting longer,

the hearts are getting colder,
but the earth is getting hotter,
plus these days reality is such a pain,
it often doesn’t seem worth the bother,

maybe the rebellion can’t begin,
because maybe it’s already done,
but then again maybe it’s only getting started,
and maybe the games have only just begun,

and if this is the case,
then you know it’s already on,
but just one question before we begin,
are you Ready Player One?

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆

old, old withered hands
grasping the edge
of a red handled rake,
old man stands upon
lone green hill
lavish under sweltering shadows
and swaying stems
of daisies, lavender and petals
the hue of burgundy cherry

lone house on a hill
spotted passageways
out into sweet oblivion
where the sky and earth
greets with hello,
this lone man stand on a hill
raking as he goes

the pebbles in the grass
clutter like trinkets
ringing affectionately,
                                      simple land, simple hands
he mumbled solemnly to himself
trying to lead him to believe
the day she left
was not the last
he would smell her perfume

dark, curly locks
piercing gaze of sapphire
greyed into wisps of smoke
ashes swirling in the wind
her hair rustled in the wind
chocolate brown and olive glimmers
and the slightest salmon pink
painted on her lips,
                                         smile like in still pond water

his heart aches melancholy,
raking the pebbles left in his garden
the one he nurtured for her
of dewed lotus and blossoming peony,
twirling bark of ancient sakura
showering the garden with cascading petals,
almost like snow, shining in the garden
the way his heart ached
for her sweet voice
                                            only sound of trickling pebbles

chrysanthemum dotted golden yellow
spurred in sweet dance with the lilies
bonzai trees twisting, elegantly unfolding
over the expanse of the bowdoin,
unfurling like in memory
the way her words would spill
like spilling sunlight at dawn,
or the way her steps
carefully planted from stone to stone
across the trickling river bend,
currents adorned with that
of galloping salmon,
the color of her lipstick
                                                     so long, lovely song

the old man could no longer
see wide eyed,
his grip faltering with fatigue,
raking the pebbles in directions
line meeting line, like the rhythm
of his frail heartbeat,
eyes tired and dull
long shadow after his frame
a thousand butterflies fluttering
in the slight breeze,
mumbling to himself
                                                    lean on, one of me
believing she was
still watching over him,
smiling and caressing
his sore arms,
breathing through
the beauty in the garden

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tutored by commoners
raised by parasites
bathed daily in lysecric
acid diethylamide which
turned out to cyanide

BONZAI

just like kali my dismembered
limbs multiply supremely
omnipotent with an unlimited
supply bulletproof even the
marxists couldn't deny