check in at the library, my card scanned,
per the terms of my sentencing agreement

to the poetry shelves dispatched.
row after row, book after book,
all blank awaiting my affections,
all demanding my sensei sensations,
seeking a creme filling of honorations,
words of all shape, roots and origins,
the occasional new combination

some, never heard before, timelessly awaiting expulsion
from the birth-vocal canal where comes origination,
but for me, death by enforced creativity,
that’s what the judgers desired,
a punishment that fits the crime

my misdeed record unsealed, intended for
world envisioning, the ego audacity to imagine
I could write a single good poem,
thus the punishment fits the crime

may1 9:19am ‘19

Still Down

Up late again,
wasn’t my intention,
had froyo with an old friend,
it felt like an intervention,

well then,
I admit I’m an addict,
but I’m also okay with it,
because I actually planned this,

to return to Hollywood,
to pay respects to my home town,
let them know that I’m way up,
but still always down,

up late,
with some fellow insomniacs,
no time for Judgers just good times with Lovers,
so high you hold me and we both catch a contact,

honest,
sonnets my Dear Watson all this is elementary,
we’re on this,
the evidence of our presence as medicine is self evidentuary,

eventually,
everything will be everything,
but until that time we’re on top of The Hill,
with songs that sound like ones that Heaven sings,

we see things,
way up here the wind is blowing,
the windows are rattling,
dogs bark lights out only the distant lights are glowing,

anyways what was the point of this poem,
maybe it was to give you insight so you’d lose your judgements,
maybe I don’t have I have a point maybe I’m just high,
maybe it doesn’t matter either way maybe not all art needs a subject,

I’m not your subject,
I’m not here for the amusement of the public,
I’m not here to talk about politics,
I don’t even want to discuss it,

I’m done with,
words that are only temporary,
either write them down or sing them loud,
life’s too short for for uncommitted commentary,

uncommitted to any passive adversaries is the reason why I haven’t married,
only Super Solid Honest Constants only the degree varies,

honest,
sonnets my Dear Watson all this is elementary,
we’re on this,
the evidence of our presence as medicine is self evidentuary,

and anyways,
yeah I’m high I’m writing my 7th book,
I planned this whole thing out,
then moved forward without a 2nd thought or look,

look,

up late again,
wasn’t my intention,
had froyo with an old friend,
it felt like an intervention,

well then,
I admit I’m an addict,
but I’m also okay with it,
because I actually planned this,

to return to Hollywood,
to pay respects to my home town,
let them know that I’m way up,
but still always down…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The HH Trilogy Vol. 2
available worldwide here: www.amazon.com/dp/B07141ZNW6

Note to self; whether by accident or by your own design,
Always bear in mind that you'll be happier with time
Tough it out, take a breathe, and forget what was yesterday
Do something new, let go of the blue, and smile away

Note to self; be happy the way you want to be
Chase your dreams, live them out, dont wait and see
Take the risk, seize the moment, and get out of bed
Remember that home is behind, the world is ahead

Me, myself, and I, can brighten up the cloudiest day,
Me, myself, and I, will push through, come what may
And when someone says " I cant see you being happy on your own"
Note to self; true happines is felt, not shown.

So spread your wings, fly up, high into the sky
Live a phantasmagorical life well before you die
Let the judgers judge, and let the haters hate
Note to self; its my life to live, not theirs. Checkmate.