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josin137 Apr 2015
My dready face,
My swollen eyes,
My lonely heart,
My broken self.

I'm broken now, you made me fall...you've disappeared
Come back to me, this time I'll stand
mark john junor Nov 2013
she lightfoots it out the backdoor
and heads for the nearest highway
says there wasn't enough romance in my last words
so shes gonna jump ship
and go find another place to sink into despair
she loves to be in love
and needs to wear it all the time
like a remnant of her yesteryear round her wrist
so all the other girls can hover and be jealous
i stand there looking at her saying all this
and i admire her and her big hat
gotta admit don't know where i'm headed either
but i'm trying to make sense of the
things written on the roundhouse wall
cause there isn't any truth greater
than the truth of innocence
its got nothing to prove
and it holds no grudges
and the truth is that i love her
so i grab her hand
and together we ran away from
the desperation of the ignorant
and the cruelty of the small hearted
the stars may fall
but if you catch em in your delicate hands
i can paste em in the scrapbook
and we can have them forever
to remember these days
paste em on the walls so
we can smile at them while making love
and that's enough for me
why aint it enough for you
she smiles and makes a house out of lace doilies
its gonna be our home sweet dream
but the gambler and the rose faced mother-in-law
fall all over themselves to stop us from leaving
cause they need someone to blame
too proud to admit they lost their humanity long ago
they will fade into shells of shadows
and get lost in a strong western breeze
a voice says to me that there's no time to loose
and i break open the day
and stare in stark wonder at all the lives
i could have lived had i not come this way
or followed this road on the way to see her
new clothes and her new dog
with its sparkling new leash
captured him to keep her company
its a tragic story to be sure and it shows in his face
its written in big easy to read letters on the side
of our now empty home
she left with her dog and a snake salesman
leaving me here side of the strange road with a naked dready honey
and a pocket full of apologies
but they aren't worth the paper they were never written on
the air they breath in my pocket is slowly leaving them
no choice but to escape back to the mouth that spoke them
and the uncomfortable lips that spawned them
the dready honey takes me by the hand
kisses away the shadows on my heart
and builds a house out of tye-dye scraps and lace doilies
now i sit in the warm breeze with sand 'tween my toes
and relish the daylight
Aaron LaLux Sep 2017
Inspirational passions,
passin’ in the Fast Lane actin’ dready no Andretti no crashin’,
cashin’ bowls and buying vowels,
moving bowels from full plates No Alex Trabek no rations,

no talkin’ trash wheels spinning no traction,
no mackin’ all in ******* heavy weight UFC non-stop action,

this is angry aggression mixed with considerate compassion,
this is six men on six horses at 6pm screamin’ six guns blastin’,
through an actual galaxy of factual fallacies,
with cash counting kings and hash smokin’ assassins,
killin’ the villains and other shady characters,
to protect the women and children from the lawless badmen,

and those that know know and those that don’t don’t,
so there’s no need to was time askin’,
all knowns shown through prose and poem,
the words your eyes have heard are everything that happens,

well then,

welcome if you come in peace please have a piece of the pie,
high as Heaven on Cloud 9 in line with inspirational passions,
thought we’d escaped and found a way out,
but instead found outt we’d be summoned back in,

Inspirational passion,
passin’ in the Fast Lane actin’ dready no Andretti no crashin’,
cashin’ bowls and buying vowels,
moving bowels from full plates No Alex Trabek no rations,

no talkin’ trash wheels spinning no traction,
no mackin’ all in ******* heavy weight UFC non-stop action,

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

from THHT2: Nightmares & Dreamscapes
A worldwide #1 best selling poetry book

mark john junor Sep 2013
bohemian in appearance
his narrow shoes and frilly jacket
are useless in the driving rain
his careworn expression
gave way to alarm
as the depths of depravity
became the fixation of his
neoclassic clique of mouthpeice's
they repeat word for word
the distorted lens and its bent descriptions
they surely the first to be on camera
moments into his meltdown
his bohemian woman
is lead to the gallows by the
politically correct daughters of the
american revolution
they clip her nails and paint them
patriotic colors
but are rebuffed when they go to shave
the star spangled into her crotch hair
aint no revolution happenin down there sweetcheeks
so she battles to beat the band
and wins one for dready's everywhere
you can dictate alot of things
but honeybunches bedroom ain't one of em
his bohemian style looks faded and grey
in the modern light of day
but given the choices
he beats pre-processed sliced cheese product
by a frilly jackets mile
too ****?
mark john junor Oct 2013
she mostly laughs when she dances
you can see the delight
in her eye as we get to the concert hall
that her feet are singing along already
that shes just bouncin in her sandles
ready for the band to to start up
ready for the song to take her places she oh so loves to go
she laughs as she dances
and she got nothin on 'neith that dress
so she can move easy
and feel free
oh man what a turn on
and so is that pretty laugh of hers
always makes me smile too
love to watch her dance
love to love her
my dready babycakes
my night passion
my day love affair
take my arm baby
lets go see who's playin down at the club
maybe
we can get a giggle or two
maybe i can get 'cha dancin
just for me
ella May 2012
i paint the blank
about as well
as any gilded painter of the renaissance

from the foreing stretches of my heart
i sculpt it: dready monologue, self portrait

my one work of art
of fear and sandstone,
membrane, chills

i fear it gives me comfort;
as i know it, comfort kills.
i've had lots of english and geography which inevitably result in this
Angled faced Prince of crime and midnight terror
Dreamer of dastardly acts and malicious intentions
Hipster flipped Cat-Holed dipping into sunsets
Hasn’t made a killing because he hasn’t had a gun yet
******* of music and strait faced combat
And a vindictive purpose
but he has not yet won that
Silent speaker waiting for his turn
It’s almost here
Dready Heady Nugget Face
My friend
Sipping his beer

#beautiful #people

— The End —