i used to play this game
as a kid, with my sister
"guess what color i'm thinking of"

she had been guessing for ages
and finally gave up.
"it's sintra"

she told me sintra was not a color
i argued for a bit, saying
"it's indigo but more violet"

"no, it just doesn't exist"
and no, it really doesn't.
my mind invented it

when i met you,
we were sintra
i thought it was real

my mind just. invented it

I travelled the world,
though not once
could I step outside
my own skull

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

Could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

it’s a lesson in the form of prose,
about abuse and about healing,
about hurting and learning,
and how we emotionally evolve,

post trauma no drama all problems solved,
no commas till Nirvana I am The Man Who Sold The World,

a young **** unplugged I’ve been through it all,
so I when she said she’d smack my mug I just  shrugged it off,

when I say She I mean You and that’s the truth I mean come on,

we were at the most beautiful view in Lisbon,
sitting together in the grass,
and I know I shouldn’t have mentioned Russia and Crimea,
but I’d swear I thought you asked,

alas,

could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

it’s more of a heated horror story,
a heartwarming tale of cold shoulders,
written by the waning light of the summer moon,
the pen is the sword that hews the stone until the tablet is hewn,

I’m a poet I know this so I wrote this to you I just hope it’s not too soon,

could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

this is a poem,
about learning not to care,
about being able to look someone right in the eyes,
and pretending like you don’t even care,

worse than pretending,
really not caring,
please I wanted you to bring some inspiration,
but all you brought was doubt and fear,

so I set you down,
as quickly as I had picked you up,
I let you go,
as quickly as I had held you close,

so,

so what,
you taught me not to care,
when I was feeling the most vulnerable,
is exactly when you chose to strike,

why?

I mean,
what happened to yesterday’s yesterday,
when we met under that wise old tree,
at that festival in Portugal,
where we feel so infinitely free,

where I invited you to spend time with me,
so we could together experience this miraculous creation called life simultaneously,

you’d accepted my invitation at the Oriental Station in Lisbon on that restaurant balcony,

I had asked where you were going,
and you’d said Madrid then back to Cypress,
I asked you why you were going back,
and you said you didn’t know,

so I invited you to a magical place called Sintra,
where we could have space to explore,
magical gardens with magnificent plants from the four corners of the world,
secret white sand beaches with just us the black rocks and the white sand,
castles in the sky and initiation wells winding into the earth,
drink from from the eternal springs which spring from the fountain of youth,

this is all true,
everything I’ve written here,

but you sabotaged this passionate plot before it even got started,
it started too fast I wanted a time out instead we ate at the Time Out Market,

I feel sick to my stomach,
I brought you to an angelic place to watch the sun set,
and what could have been a beautiful healing experience turned into nothing,
I feel sick to my stomach,

why have we done this,

why have we become this,

what can we take from this,

what’s the lesson from all this,

if you know please tell me,
because I haven’t got a clue,
and I’m as alone now as I was before I met you,
and I’m sitting here in my sorrows writing this sonnet staring at the waning moon,

and I could have wrote a whole book about you,
but instead all you get is this one poem,
and as lovely as you are you have all the signs of crazy,
so no this is not exactly a love poem,

it’s a lesson in the form of prose,
about abuse and about healing,
about hurting and learning,
and how we emotionally evolve…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The very mention of Portugal's Lisbon evokes an anticipation of enticement,
Replete with rich history and heritage, any visit is bound to be one of excitement,
Linked to the legendary Ulysses, it is the westernmost capital city in continental Europe,
It's historical prominence is due to it's beautiful natural harbor, that needs no lookup

Even for those who love city walking, the steep inclines of the streets could be a stretch,
A plethora of pleasing tiled architectural facades however, makes up for the arduous dretch,
The city is built in a succession of terraces up the slopes of a range of low rolling hills,
Elevation variations offer spectacular views of the river & cliffs, adding considerable frills

As a city built on seven hills, Lisbon's topography is a mix of enchanting contrasts,
Monumental buildings, elegant squares and broad avenues encompass large vasts,
Quick digression to hilly, narrow, winding, cramped streets is a common occurrence,
The ambience while strolling is pleasing & the transition in terrain is a nice experience

Lisbon's uniqueness is in it's hybridity of historical and modern cultures and lifestyles ,
Smart rooftop bars of hotels contrast to excellent inconspicuous restaurants in style,
The city boasts of an internationally acclaimed one-of-a-kind  architectural singularity,
That can be seen in scores of buildings where spectacular tiled facades are a specialty

Building facade tiles are characteristically ornamented with figures in blue-toned colors,
As seen in homes, public buildings, cafes, train stations, shops, churches and many others,
Called "Azulejos" in Portuguese, these unique tiles also serve to remove building dampness,
Innovative iterations have made tiles more vibrant, rendering greater degree of brightness

One of Lisbon's trademarks is the famed, oldest Portuguese paving on most streets,
Made of limestone cubes, shaped and placed by skilled craftsmen, never missing a beat,
The designs are geometric, figurative or specific depending on the final location,
Special atmosphere is created as it reflects all light falling on it, that begs causation

Lisbon's distinctive colored tram cars are iconic and, for visitors a must-have ride experience,
Hop on board to the sound of squeaky brakes and shrill bells, that have little consequence,
Navigating the steep hills, narrow streets and sharp turns, the journey is fun-filled & exciting,
The ability to lean out and touch perilously close building walls in narrow streets, is most defining

Baixa is Lisbon's central business and shopping district that is always bustling with activity,
It houses the most emblematic squares and streets with neoclassical buildings in the vicinity,
This touristy part of town is flanked by fascinating historical sights that are iconic, quite frankly ,
Fusion of it's history, traditional Portuguese culture and modern tourism, is depicted very aptly

Overlooking River Tejo is Praca do Comercio, a magnificent plaza and Lisbon's grandest square,
The surrounding arcaded buildings, equestrian statue and  Rua Augusta Arch all add to the flair,
Bustling Rossio Square with cafes is Baxia's principal square with it's wave-patterned pavement,
Adjacent Restauradores Square with much history has a standout obelisk - a landmark monument

Navigating around the hilly city is commonly by cab or metro as both are relatively inexpensive,
Other options include trams, funiculars, buses and ferries, that can be fun and equally effective,
When it comes to a tossup, Lisbon metro with four lines, is usually the fastest way to commute,
Providing a seamless experience for visitors, thanks to  a system that is designed to be astute

A visit to Lisbon is never complete without a day trip to  Sintra, perched atop a mountainous site,
Sintra's jewel in the crown is undoubtedly the famous Pena Palace - an UNESCO World Heritage Site,
The iconic twin conical chimneys and the lavish, whimsical interiors have an unique construction style,
The castle rooms with colorful, artistically painted emblematic ceilings are surely worthy of a besmile

Lisbon's charming tourist attractions and lifestyle are the prime reasons for it being a go-to location,
It has a welcoming and liberal allure with extensive history, that makes it a popular holiday destination,
One continues reminiscing the sloping streets, effusive warmth of locals and colorful architectural tiling,
At the end of it all, a visit to Lisbon always remains wistful, whilst at the same time, leaving one smiling!

I suffocated.
I inhaled your fumes and travelled the universe on them.
I watched the stars explode and unfold in to mirrors in the sky.
Only you could ******* home.

Where's home then?
I can only say with certainty,
That home has to reside in me
For that's the only thing I ever found.
Why did I built myself a cold home and then cursed at God?

The bitter smirk on my face
Is directed to me
Only I'm not sure I deserve it.
Silly little girl...
Thinking that seperation could heal me.

Now I'm not sure I'm any closer to where I'm trying to go.
The whisperes have taken a vow of silence.
Every now and then a small gut feeling tells me I'm going the right way.

But as I walk the shiny shores of Sintra,
My backpack weighing heavy on my back,
I understand that it's all there really is...
A long journey with my trusty gas burner.
I am truly alone
And I've never been more whole.
And it's not that they're all cruel.
I've been cruel to me.

Life is balanced like this.
My heart is smiling.
Keep your fumes and your shiny mirrors.
Universes are born everday....