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Write it big
Write it strong
Write it eternal,
…a poets song

Make your words clear
Make right from wrong
The message short,
…the meaning long

This time only lent
The whispers uncloud
The opening prescient,
…reasons abound

Write it forever
Write it out loud
Within the moment,
…happening now

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
You can slow it down by just the sound of a love ones heartbeat,
you can come back down by just the  planting of your feet.
In the soil we can connect,  becoming one with the scenery, by sitting in silence and closing our eyelids and listen as the wind begins to speak.

All you have to do is breathe...in and out so deeply
till your feet become the roots, and the rest of you becomes the tree.
Whatever you do, get back, because this old world is fading away.
Raise your vibration; ignite your vertebrae.
Lago Da Preta

With water from aquifers,
deep within the rock of The Holy Cross,
where these holy waters first see the Light of Day,
is where we converge and I submerge my gold chain,

between darkness and light,
where Lago De Preta is filled,
I quench my thirst for redemption,
with hands cupped in prayer,

I carry the water from the ceramic spout,
to the waiting lips of my mouth,
I drink these holy waters,
to replenish that which the vampires have drained,

they took more than I offered them,
but I suppose so goes the burden of every saint,
we give and we give and we give,
so that hopefully through our blessings they can be saved,

and all this giving is tiring,
so I’ve come to this sanctuary of Lago Da Preta,
to drink these holy waters from this holy mountain,
to which I was gratefully and thankfully divinely led,

so hopefully I too can be saved,
by these cleansing waters,
at this circular stone aqua alter,
covered in soft green moss and prayers,

I’ve taken my shoes off,
as we all should at any temple,
I’ve confessed my sins here,
in hopes of redemption,

I give thanks for,
this moment of peace in this Garden of Pena,
at this sanctuary in this forest,
here before us is the Lago Da Preta,

I give thanks,
because moments of refuge care priceless,
in a world that’s gone mad,
I hope I can redeem us with words so I write this,

and I send these poetic letters,
from here because I don’t think I’m coming back,

I’m at,

Lago a Preta,

a place made in honor of a mysterious black saint,
created with sea shells and volcanic rock and dedicated faith,

the saint,
is mysterious because her origins are unknown,
so we can only speculate,
and I’d speculate that she was probably a saint of the Moors,

and it was probably a beautiful statue that stood here,
and it was probably destroyed by white Conquistadors,
the same mind frame vein that made Jesus white,
and made Morocco a place settled by the Moors,

the statue was likely removed,
for the same reason the Great Sphinx lost it’s nose,
for the same reason so many statues are defaced,
and it’s an atrocity but I suppose that’s just the way it goes,

because history seems to be written,
by those that do the most sinning,
and it’s tragically ironic,
that those that sin the most do the most winning,

and lately in history most of the winners have been white,

but still I pray in front of an alter erected to a black saint,
because I believe that God doesn’t see people by color,
I believe God sees people by intentions and actions,
and I am proud and excited but at this very moment I am humbled,

I am grateful,
I dip my gold chain and my mala beads in this infinite elixir,
water so ******,
it could **** those energy ******* vampires,

sometimes just restin’ is the best medicine,

sometimes it helps to just remove your shoes and pray,

sometimes it’s best to get away from all the clamor,

sometimes you can find a place of peace like I have today,

I pray,

between darkness and light,
where Lago De Preta is filled,
I quench my thirst for redemption,
with hands cupped in prayer,

and I write,

with hands still wet from holy waters,
from deep within the rock of The Holy Cross,
I write in hopes these words will be found,
so that all of humanity will cease to be hopelessly lost…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
See-Through Memories

Didn’t you notice?

I rented this apartment,
next to your favorite gelato spot,
Lavender Gelato or whatever it’s called…

Didn’t you notice?

I came back to Budapest,
just to see you,
and also to buy an apartment too…

Don’t you remember?

When I promised,
not to leave you and asked,
for the same promised and you promised too?

Don’t you remember?

When I offered,
you everything this world has to offer,
and all I asked for was a few moments?

I guess we all break our promises…

And now I’m left to watch the waves,
come and crach,
against the castle in the sands,
that we made with our grand plans,

you were going to draw the pictures,
and I was going to write the words,
we were going to create a book,
and share ourselves with the world,

you promised,
you promised you wouldn’t leave,
and that’s exactly what you did,
and love is blind and that’s why I didn’t see…

Can’t you see?

How alone I’ve become,
how all I really ask for,
is a friend to exist here when I feel all alone?

All alone.

A poet who’s words are his only home,
and I don’t know what to do to communicate with you,
so I left you alone retreated to my thoughts and wrote you this poem…

Dear Beloved,

I know there are no words,
that haven’t already been said,
and I know even if I write you everything,
there’s a good chance it won’t be read,

but I write to you anyways,
because that’s what loyalty will make one do,
even though we met spent some time and then you left,
quick and almost automatic like one two…

Where are you?

Where are you reading this from,
do you feel as outcasted as I do,
when you walk these streets in a run?

Hello,

I’m still here,
even though it feels like the world is ending,
and the future is completely unclear,

we’re on unstable ground,
and I’ve retreated to my addictions,
so I smoke a cigarette and think about you,
then I write it all down and call it fiction,

since when,
was it cool to lose all emotion,
I’d give anything just to see you feel,
something anything more than nothing,

no way,
anything I’m going to write or say,
will change your mind or make you feel differently,
hell I don’t even know if you’re going to read this,
but that’s okay because we all go away anyways eventually…

So I guess this is goodbye.

I guess this is some sort of farewell letter,
as I write from my apartment,
right next to that shop,
that one that sells gelato made of lavender…

Do you remember?

I rented this apartment,
next to your favorite gelato spot,
Lavender Gelato or whatever it’s called…

Didn’t you notice?

I came back to Budapest,
just to see you,
and also to buy an apartment too…

Don’t you remember?

When I promised,
not to leave you and asked,
for the same promised and you promised too?

Don’t you remember?

When I offered,
you everything this world has to offer,
and all I asked for was a few moments?

I guess we all break our promises…

And now we’re left just wasting time,
waiting for the rumored apocalypse,
doing whatever we think we’re supposed to do,
as existence existing in what we believe our existence is.

I’m sick of this.

Sick of this body and all it’s accompanying emotions,
I see why you feel better when you try and feel nothing,
because honestly constant musing can feel confusing,
so you’d rather just shut off completely from any feelings…

Hello,

I’m still here,
even though it feels like the world is ending,
and the future is completely unclear,

here,
I wrote you this love letter,
in a humble attempt to arise from within,
those feelings you hide that will help you feel better.

Please,

I’ve already accepted we will likely never see each other again,
all I’m asking is remember one thing,
true love is more rare that you think so no time for pretend,

I know,
believe me I’ve been through a lot,
I’ve hoped loved gained it all,
I’ve broke everything I’ve made and everything I’ve gained I’ve lost,

because you can’t take any of this with you,
the scales of time are not on our side,
nothing is balanced and no one is equal,
there’s no where to run there’s no where to hide,

remind,
me why I write,
these words to you you probably won’t even read them,
because you’d rather listen to their lies.

Why?

Why?

Why are you not here?

When a man asked me why I was in Budapest,
I said I came back for a girl,
and when he asked me,
“Well then where is she?”
I realized I’d been fooled,

by you.

I flew,
across the continent just to see you,
I rented a place next to your favorite gelato spot,
I offered myself without any walls in other words to be see-through.

See you,
have so much potential to achieve anything,
and you had a pretty good chance to have it all,
but now all you’ll have are the memories…

Don’t you remember?

When I promised,
not to leave you and asked,
for the same promised and you promised too?

Don’t you remember?

When I offered,
you everything this world has to offer,
and all I asked for was a few moments?

I guess we all break our promises…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆


03/09/16
Budapest
With Love, From Budapest, Yours Truly... ∆
I am painting word pictures today
tasting hot incoming Autumn  breezes
transforming splendor
dreary rain filled moments pass
bidding adieu
and welcome my rustic bamboo
fare thee well to Summer's sun
now in this Burning September

Entrancing
as the
dancing trees
in changing multicolored hues...
skies of crystal clear blue
cut outs of rolling hillsides
and lush Green mountains
in that endless and seamless quilt
sheltering the storms

My eyes are drawn
past the still lively green leaves
as the burning umber
and cardinal tipped ones
radiating
hat tipped
as chlorophyll ...
choking the beauty outward
from the petiole
like greedy verdant fingers...
the palm of my hand
I linger ...a moment
they wave in soft winds
...and I wave back

I remember
old-time Vermonters
like my Father
didn't care for the Sumac trees
thought perhaps a ****
only beautiful to look at
& they are so very lovely

These happy helpers
say hello to Fall
stick around
when everything else
already brown
holding down
needy dry hillsides
from erosion
growing fast and tall
turning into thickets...
for woodland critters
providing borders
unsung heroes beckon
along railroads,
highways ,
pastured Meadows
and Orchard edges
these beauties...
never really go away.

A harvesting moon
giving seasons
  five months
from the time
the leaves fall off
until they grow back
in the spring time
  serrated leafy knives
cut into the sky
a bittersweet
and bashful goodbye
sighing...
to drunken apples
and their dropping dried leafy friends

Surprisingly scrumptious
providing
we are foraging and gleaning
I make a lovely citrusy
sour and fruity tea
like wild cranberry juice...
imaging the Joy
inviting clusters of crimson know

Providing more than food
for winged ones
a sugar depository
loaded with antioxidants &
spreading sunshine
in darker months

Attracting  lovely colorful winter birds
my winsome friends
seed eaters
small singing kindred spirts...
tempted by seeds pods
of the Staghorn Sumac
and remaining wildflowers
bursting like burgundy globes
scarlet and brick reds
mellow yellows
  turning burning
blazing bright oranges
as the seasonal butterfly dreams
unfolding it's summertime schemes
right before my wondering eyes

  European and English
Gardens know
varieties
I can only close my eyes to see
accentuating loose,
textured landscapes
stunning gardens
& fern-like cousins
across the world
A Middle Eastern grind
of this crimson spice
from those crushed dried drupes
while they prepare rice for dinner

I so appreciate
what a gift we have to share
time is running short before
as told to me in times of yore
we brace as one for Winter's Bone
though I am not alone
Vermont it is my earthly home
all I really want to say
thanks for sharing with me  ...
on this perfect picturesque
Vermont September day.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Changed Title- my apologies.
I miss my father every single day but I was certainly glad to see him in the Sumac trees... I am certain he is watching now consoling my heart as I bid adieu to the days of summer.
Cats are cool,
They regally rule.
You think you own them,
But they own you.

Born as kittens they are so cute.
Before you know it, off they scoot.
Baby faces and big blue eyes,
Dopamine surges, what a surprise.

Pouncing on you as you walk through the door,
Kitty is lightning over that floor.
How we love to watch them play,
Brightening up an otherwise dull day.

The older cats look on with disdain:
They’d much rather use their brain.
More to the point cats love to sleep,
Waking only to take the odd peep.

So independent yet love a stroke:
Lots of purring you’ll invoke.
I’m not too sure of their table manners
But they’ve just got to be fans of canners.

I’m not too keen on them bringing a present,
Even though they might think that it’s a pheasant.
They can be cruel when they hunt,
But that’s their job, let’s be blunt.

Most popular pets, that’s for sure.
Feeling stressed? A cat is your cure.

Paul Butters
I saw a TV documentary on cats - a soothing watch....
Spectrums to sound waves.
One infinite pulsing heart.
Synth to love you so...
Even in the darkest abyss the light
Filters down, bringing illuminance as far as it dares
For that blaze still gleams, far above
And fights to bring just a ray down, to you

And it may seem miles away, that brilliance
That your soul longs to touch once again
That ease, so far buried in your recollection
That it seems like a haze, or a far away dream

But yet, you will not dwell in that deep dark for eternity
That void which threatens to devour you,
Will not always hold sway
For either the light will triumph, or oblivion

And yet, the waters above the chasm bear down upon you
A comforting weight upon thy shoulders
That settles around you, seducing you to sleep
That is alright, for a little while, but remember

To sleep is to dream, but to wake is to live
And to ever again bathe in the luminescence, beckoning from above
You must wake, and fight, and strive towards that glow
For that dream, to ever become life.
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