Hello & Goodbye

All melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways,

sure I’ve got my friends,
friends such as you,
but honestly after I’ve given up the ghost and gone,
maybe you’ll mourn a bit but then that’ll be it,

I’m sick with something drugs can’t cure so why not quit,
I mean I’m bored of this life anyways,
I suppose I can’t go until my parents die though,
because no parent should ever see their son pass,

or daughter,
I authored,
a collection of poetry larger,
than any other author every who bothered,
to even write poetry,
and this includes Emily Dickinson,
but I’m not here to compare,
I’m here to make a statement,

all melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways,

chasing my addictions,
not the least of which is women,
not to objectify women,
but honestly every thing and one is a drug,

even you,
even me,
even the words,
that create this poetry,

I’m searching,
for some relief,
or at least,
something to fill the hole in my heart,

I’m missing something,
and I can’t quite find what it is,
I suppose it’s difficult to get what you’re looking for,
if you don’t know what what your looking for is,

fck this,
and no I didn’t mean to cuss,
but sometimes that happens,
when recording stream of consciousness,

this is me,
in all my honestness,
no apologies no excuses,
just these thoughts that turn into muses,

that I’ve learned to describe,
in away attractive enough to get paid,
two #1 books in a row,
and I just give all the profits away,

randomly picking a charity,
because any charity can use the money better than I can,
I just spend it out speeding up my time of death,
and I can’t help it but don’t blame me it’s not like it was part of my plan,

I’ve given all that I can,
dedicated my everything to the words that compose these books,
I’ve sacrificed any resemblance of a normal life,
so that others can live and learn through these words,

I have no children,
and I left every good woman that wanted to marry me,
what many don’t understand is in order to be one of the greats,
you have to dedicate your whole life to the craft,

and that makes for a lonely road,
I guess that’s why every artist is disturbed,
but it’s the pain in the poetry that numbs the pains of reality,
and this much I’ve begrudgingly understood,
since I when I started writing,
wrote my way back from suicide,
had slashed my wrist ready to reset,
because sometimes to really live you’ve gotta die,

I write,
at a fervorous pace,
making up words as I go no time to conform to literary norms,
I’ve got a date with Destiny and we have History to make.

Get it?

A date with Destiny,
get married and have a baby called History,
it’s just another parallel analogy,
see I’m a double entendre monster with this poetry,

addicted to the way these words feel,
like I’m addicted to the way a women feels,
for the love of God,
I love her so much in this surreal world sometimes she’s the only one that feels real,

please,
come here,
hold me I’m slipping,
I’m losing sight of life I need a reminder why I’m alive,

I need you,
I’m not joking,
alone as a tombstone on a deserted island with no cemetery,
alone as a miner trapped in a coal mine or rather as alone as the canary,

feeling sick from the carbon monoxide and other toxins that this civilization spews,
and like I said before all melodramatics aside I’m lost and ready to die but that’s old news,

there is no new news,
I’ve done it all win lose or draw,
I’ve played every game walked every avenue,
I’ve written everything I’ve seen and I’ve seen it all,

so all melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways,

sure I’ve got my friends,
friends such as you,
but honestly after I’ve given up the ghost and gone,
maybe you’ll mourn a bit but then that’ll be it,

my body will die but my books will still live,
because every word I write is given as a gift,
I was given this gift of gab so I use it,
to scribe our collective consciousness,
it’s a ***** job but somebody’s got to do it,
so I guess I’ve been elected with is fine it’s not like I have any kids,
and sure when I’m gone I might be missed,
but you’ll always have my books and I’ll live through these words,
immortalized like a statue of stone erected in the museum of life,

I’ll take this one for the team don’t worry I’ll be just fine,

I,
I,
I,
I feel sick,
I’m ready to sleep,
I’ve given this world every word that ever came to me,
now please,
just let me be,

lonely as an abandoned house becomes,
after all the children have grown and gone away,
after the parents become old and pass,
and nature begins to reclaim every inch of him,

ivy grows along the outer walls,
tree roots crack the foundation,
the roof finally caves from the incessant rains of time,
and the soul of the home is sent to another destination,

I’ve been waiting,
for someone anyone to come here and hold me,
to tell me that they are here that they love me and will never leave me,
but no one’s come yet and if they did and they said that they’d be lying because everyone eventually leaves,

Hello,
goodbye,
I’m,
leaving,

all melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆


24/08/16

Sintra, Portugal

Traffic lights spread across the Opal sky
He held my face
His gentle, warm palms, magnetic on my skin
Fervorous glow embraced my chest
Beat to beat, my heart bled into the fog.

Leaning his forehead against mine,
I felt my thoughts blending with his skin.
A synthesis of feelings, an ocean of colours.
his lips find mine and heat ripples across my face
Cloudy breaths caressed my skin
This time, the sky didn't blend with tears.
This night, the lights were dry.

Most of all. it's the truculent desire hardly shielded,
creating whirlwind, shaking the woods of my mind,
then insistent fingers in an ****** day dream,touch
intimately to arouse my hood, those  robust waves
inch forward to my shores, I shudder,again and again,
like a sea swell, in an intense want, we are engorged,
a mania for the moon, slouching behind the clouds,
your eyes had always spoken gently, yet brewed storms.

I sense a wish that yearns culmination in my invasion,
full luscious red lips, smeared with the spices  of amour,
their own symbolism eloquent, as wet they are, whispering yes, yes
coal black eyes can't hide the eagerness, they peer,
your body, now so tender has a tremor,anticipating my touch,
you are ready for a journey together, to the far deeper ends
an impatient waterway, aren't you,awaiting my row boat,
for a fervorous exploration together, through the watery canals

Fervorous rain did
Clothe land with thick water sheets;
Clinging and stifling.

All these sucka MCs I can't afford'em
You know I just let the Lord go an sort'em
I got y'all contortin' and consortin'
With the Devil to give me Hell
You can't tell that my sword fell
The fallen angel down there he dwell
Got it from Michael, the last half is Kyle
That's Hebrew for victorious
For Him I am fervorous 'n'

Mother ******' Furious

The world's situation is serious
Y'all straight out of it delirious
Overtaken in sin
You're way too curious
Where the hell do I begin
To let you know how to win
Against the Ego, deal the blow
Of submission, help you win
That is my mission, this is a confession

Let's start this session

Begin the lesson
Don't be stressin', soon you'll be bestin'
And bullet-proof vestin' through the wild west son
No need for the Smith n Wesson got a killer kush gun
You put on the Raiment of truth that protects one's
Youth; That's innocence,

Make sense?

I am within my very own season • eternal though soaked • nearing the end • where the sun goes down and down; onwards slowly, solely: but could I catch the summer rays within my hands? "Could I really do so some day? Or am I suspended between the reality and of the fantastic?" Smells of fresh soil neath my nostrils, as aeration is provided by the worms • fat within their cells • and blind without organs of sight. The burning leaves smoky greenish and grey • for the fresh has blended with the faded • and all is sodden anyway -despite the day being a long sunny one. Sodden leaves burn slow, yet smoke with fervorous attempts to glow right before my lachrymal eyes -yet I love, yet I love.Yet I love this second season now known.

There's a saxophonist that insists on keeping me awake
Blaring, drowning in the noise
Taking in spit and saliva from the reed
And going at it again
With fervorous gusts of screeches and yells

There's a horse that insists on keeping me awake
Neigh, he says, to the summer heat
And say he does, proclaim he does
Loudly, proudly, ever more
The morning light rises above him

There's cicadas insisting on keeping me awake
Buzz, chirp, skree, zumm
That is what they say, and what a fruitful talk
I'm sure it must be riveting since they want me to hear it
If only I spoke their tongue

There's a brain that insists on keeping me awake
Loud yells of bygone memories
Honest mistakes of the last decade
Fears of tomorrow, fears of today
What's the saxophone, horse and cicadas matter if I couldn't sleep anyway?

Delving into the breaches of this void
Whimpers fervorous and grating the air
Disparate echoes enraged and overjoyed
Empty ideals found shattered and bare
Shifting and potent ego’s used, employed
Near hands and hearts of those who care
Solemn faces, peace yet to be destroyed

The words of the Mother.
The will of the Father.
Tangled together in loving embrace,
A web of some snares and many praise.

"Oh who, may I ask, could edge this place,
So laced with by the eagerness on their face.
That they dare tread in our domain,
Thinking they could leave with no remains?"

Says they, ever watchful, ever lurking,
Not unlike the eyes and desires of the Erlking.
Yet with loving eyes they have and will watch,
With care, they too tread through this notch...
...where giants had fell.

Be gracious to all their iniquities,
Be grateful to all their insufficiencies,
Be graceful to all their incapacities.
For we all live on the same path.

Silence midst the black, for no one listens.

A multi-faceted construct, this is, a divine work.
The million praises had earned it some perks.
A panopticon of disillusioned dreams,
Broken, leaking, failing at the seams.

But yonder! A company midst the black,
With they will you finally find some slack.
Join hands in joy and in finding your lew,
"Dance with me!" Begins the pas de deux.

Your forms weave, what amazing shapes you compose,
Your steps in sync, what amazing music you propose,
Your eyes locked, what amazing love arose,
Your mind fogged, what amazing dreams we live in.
In the color of madness.

"But all dreams end eventually."

In fear you of exposing the core of your being,
How many layers have you hid your soul in?

"Conform," they say.
"Contrive," they say.
"Concede," they say.
"Conclude," the say.

But this is not the dream you want, is it?

Silence midst the black, for no one listens.

The panopticon arise from the empty nothing,
It always follow, no matter where you go.
The all-seeing eye is but a golden nothing,
Run, run, all you want, you must answer yes or no.

Beneath the sky, a thousand eyes open.
Unblinking, unmet, undisturbed, restless.
The glass sun drift across the lucid sky,
Fabric weaved from lies are made often.
A quiet greatness.

The singing river runs deep, in the valley of our hearts.
What horrid lies it tell, what fervorous dreams it make.
"Alright, it's alright, it is ok to die."
Is this is the tragic end of all our arts?

Extent of dreams and fervor and lies?

"Tell me, tell me!" The voices cry aloud.
"Show me, show me!" The eyes line the crowd.
"Let me, let me!" The hands grasp at straws.
"Hear me, hear me!" The mouths, unified, proud,
Frivolous.

The utter destruction of logic and will,
The mindless construction of information still,
The great structure of mirrors and speakers,
The ruthless construct for harvesting souls.
Pointless machines.

Silence midst the black, for no one listens.

Dread the will, dread the error.

Hide the body, hide the mind.

Fear the panopticon, fear the construct.

So many lies, so many cries.
How many limitations will you place upon your salutations?
Life's a cage we built, never knowing that it'll tilt.
Self-imposed, juxtaposed, core exposed.
Why?

Naught may answer, for naught emerges from the black.
Why bother? They all collapse anyways.
So, take me with you,
Unto a newer afterlife.