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Shivendra Om Jul 2015
Vorrei la foto tua
d'un tempo andato
amore mio adorato

–per esserci, con te

quand'eri giovane abbastanza
per non sentire ancora
la mia predestinata

–assenza
{ English version }

[ Memories of a soulmate ]

I'd like to have
an old picture of you
my love

–to be with you

when you were young
enough, not to feel yet
my predestined

–absence

Italian and English versions by Luca Shivendra Om
© Luca Shivendra Om
Aaron LaLux Mar 2017
American Dream

Losing it one memory at a time,
how can I keep track of my friends all over the world,
how did America become a shell of it’s former Self,
what happened to the my American Dream?

I mean,
I have everything,
every,
thing,

been to every continent still not at all content,
really though mostly because I don’t know the reason,
for my discontentment I’m in contempt when I try and defend Consciousness,

because most people don’t want to hear it,
myself usually included,
but this day is different an exception to the rule,
in a moment when nothing is excluded,

all inclusive with no illusion to allude to,
only positive punctual true proof,
that ever experience we gain,
is another memorie we lose,

and I suppose that’s the trade off sort of,
lost my money got my freedom feeling strung out like Adolf,
in this Waking Dream that's beginning to feel like a Ponzi Scheme,
was gonna blow the whistle on the whole thing until I got paid off,

hey Madoff,
I just got laid off,
or rather laid on,
a beautiful bed by a beautiful mare that's more like a Stallion,

and that’s the difference,
between the Exceptions to the Rule,
and the “normal human beings”,
I’m between and Exception and the Rules,

I’m losing things but Perfection costs a lot of jewels,
so I'm donating all my Championship rings and useful tools,

got,

to pay the Piper,
there’s a toll at the bridge,
and a troll under the bridge,
and I'm tough not a Billy Goat Gruff with,

Red,
Hot Chili Peppers,
with Kiedis in Budapest,
got The Good Life high as Ini the Hotstepper,

whatever,
nothing seems normal,
shouldn’t be so formal,
let the record play let the drums roll,

in times of gargoyles and turmoil,
having a drink at the bar and it's purple,
at Gresham Palace Bar & Lounge,
up high and getting down with a surplus,

outstanding,
with Anthony in Budapest,
at the Four Seasons Hotel,
on the River Danube,

the River Danube,
brings up memories,
of Lovers and Poems,
and all of the things that continue to make Me,

me and my memories,
I remember you and yours too,
when we walked across that bridge,
above the River Danube...

I can’t stand Truth,
He can be such a fickle creature when He’s free,
and I’m losing memories it’s true I just hope I’m not also losing you,
because She can be such a fickle creature when She’s free,

losing,
one round at at time,
gaining,
on ground that was never mine,

and I know you don’t know the answers,
“But excuse me could you at least tell me the time?”,

to this you turn from your Enamore,
“Well since you asked I’ll tell you it’s almost One Two.”,
in other words what you said,
was it’s almost 12 which makes this the 11th Hour of Youth,
and I know we’re losing all of our memories,
but the only thing I fear losing is you,

Because I’m,
I’m,
I’m,
losing it,

Losing it one memory at a time,
how can I keep track of my friends all over the world,
how did America become a shell of it’s former Self,
what happened to the my American Dream?

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Destiny  Nov 2019
Faded Memories
Destiny Nov 2019
F
Fa
Fad
Fade
Faded

M
Me
Mem
Memo
Memor
Memori
Memorie
Memories
­
Sometimes, it just becomes too much!

F
Fa
Fad
Fade
Faded

M
Me
Mem
Memo
Memor
Memori
Memorie
Me­mories

Sometimes, it just haunts me!

F
Fa
Fad
Fade
Faded

M
Me
Mem
Memo
Memor
Memori
Memorie
Memo­ries

Sometimes, I can't escape!

F
Fa
Fad
Fade
Faded

M
Me
Mem
Memo
Memor
Memori
Memorie
­Memories

Sometimes, it hurts more than it should!

All the memories have seemed to fade, but always find its way back!

These memories don't really ever go away, they just linger.

They think that they're welcome.

They don't have a permanent home.

They shadow my every move!

Faded memories aren't very faded anymore...
why do my thoughts no longer create symphony's?
with metaphors as my orchestra,
I could release the information that crammed and over loaded my cerebrum.
it makes me confused as to why I would neglect that precious side of me.
the special gift that
saved my life.
how could I neglect you?
how could I forget myself?
my anorexic-like spirit is
so hungry for the taste of my memorie's return.
Troy  Feb 2018
What is in a kiss
Troy Feb 2018
what is a kiss
What is this thing that brings to lips together
It stirs emotions deep in the soul.

I kiss you because I love
you
  I kiss you because Of my loathing for you
I kiss you because I care for you
I kiss you because you are gone
I kiss you because you are here
I kiss you because you are kind
I kiss you because I can
I kiss you because you draw me near.

what is this thing this kiss I cannot hold in my hand
something I cannot put to pen.

What is in a kiss
It can cost you your very soul and last only a moment in time.

Others will cost you nothing yet
last you a lifetime
I'm told.

Some will bring you happiness yet
some torture you throughout an Eternity.

Some will be forgotten never to be again
And yet some like the first can never be free from
memorie

What is this power that lies beneath A kiss so gentle and soft yet bearing on every press

What is A kiss that binds contracts Of love

And some leave you wanting
More.

But yet it tears the heart from a lover as death takes the other With only One last kiss to give.

And What of a mother and her child who has scraped their knee
with a kiss upon the wound the pain is set free.

What is this power this thing a kiss

If Alone in this world without it
I tell you truthfully
it is the only thing you will miss
The gentleness
This thing
A
Kiss.
Unathi taliwe Jun 2015
Waw!,Memories on a sleep less night flashing through the mind set of mine,As if it was yesterday i miss the days i used to talk to u all the time every second of every day moment's of loughter crazeynes and joy and the sad ones,I  miss the felling i used to get when i was with u the felling of having buterflys in my stomach,The way i used to get when i was around u loosing the words to say,The thing i miss mostly about u is telling u how beatiful u ar bt now i geas is about time i move on even though im  still in love with you as u stil have a piace of my heart with u,The night to me is stil a reminder of what we have as the star'z remind me every time alook up
Im feeling emotinal
Withering, withering, withering down.
A spiral of emptiness and weakness in my own heart.
A sickly form of hate.
A frail figure of shadows and misery and memorie.

O! and what is the field of golden corn compared to the bruise on your throat.
Choked by the ******* of godliness, when she is called life///when she is called death.

Forced to spit out your last drop of blood, through your pharynx///through your eyes.

Sexually with the knife in hand. Like stone to butter, stabbing within the heart of the devil. Like the beast with three *****, who carries the devil in his sinful testicles...you stab stab stab at the flesh of your own chest.

No hair after the fire, no blood after the lust.

The sexuality which assaults YOUR OWN SANITY. It becomes you.

Withering and withering within the HELL of your own spiral.

O! and when are you to become the devil within the sac of the beast?

To be born and reborn again within the light of the sun.

Burning away in a pool of blood that you craved forever.

Burning back together in a pool of ***** that you craved forever.

O! and who are you when you are left naked and alone by your own hand in a pool of hate that you craved forever, I asked myself.
Madeysin Apr 2015
Soft imprints of carpet on knees,
16 years old only trying to please,
Catastrophic catastrophe,
Blue hues in the soul,
So sad, down trodden youth,
5 hours of painting alone,
In a furnitureless room,
In an empty home,

Sweat across my brow,
Paint down my cheeks,
Like permanent tears,
Rocking back on my feet,
Limbs stretching cramping,

Looking at what I had created,
A blue cube,
Took tuck my emotions into,
Keep it sealed air tight,

A burning rage built up inside of me,
I looked to the cealing and screamed,"God I wish I had a dad to help me!"

I lost my head that day,
My spirit threw the roof,
I gathered gallons of paint cans,
Displayed them in a row,
Blue hues,
For a blue soul,

Elbow deep I dipped my dry hands,
Into the cold wet colored liquid,

Smearing and spreading,
Punching and slapping,
Blue hues,
For a blue soul,
In a blue room,
With no one to hold,

I screamed and wept as each color bled,
From my heart to the wall,
A tidal wave of madness,

It keeps my secret safe and sound,
The murderous crys,
My heart defeated,
The tears that mixed with the buckets of paint,
Decorating the room,
It dominates my life,
My tidal wave of sadness
Random

— The End —