"Can we make love,
at least a couple more times,
before we never see each other again?”,

Her voice is soft,
sweet,
almost innocent,
and adds an aphro-ambiance,
to the incessant crash of the ocean waves in the background,

her pleading eyes,
intercept my retreating lies,
it can be so hard to argue with the truth.

I am all out of excuses,
as we lay naked as the day we were born,
in this bed at this beachside bungalow in Baja,
clouds gathering outside for the coming post sunshine storm,

two tainted souls,
in a rare moment of purity,
as we lay there I can not lie here,
I can not tell her I will see her again,
I can not tell her everything will be okay,
I can not tell her I love her,
at least not in the same way,
as she loves me,
which of course is unconditionally,

we’ve just made love,
and as she’s mentioned,
possibly for the last time,
and though she wants to make love again and again,
until we both grow old,
wants and realities can compete in this existence,
and in this moment is where they both meet,

“Can we make love,
at least a couple more times,
before we never see each other again?”,

she asks me again,
shaking me from the depths of my thoughts,
she pulls my submarine from the dark depths,
and shakes me out to dry in the sunlight of her attention,
her question,
comes with a hint of offense,
honestly no offense was meant,
at least not from me,
it’s not that I was ignoring her in that moment,
at least not completely,

it’s just that it’s difficult for me to stay in the moment,
when the past keeps dragging me back,
and the future keeps pushing me forward,
and there’s a needy media monster that doesn’t want to be ignored,

where were,
we,
where have we gone,
and what has become,
of the innocence in which we were born?

We lay,
naked as the day we were born,
in this bed at this beachside bungalow in Baja,
clouds gathering outside for the coming post sunshine storm,

nothing covering our skin,
except a thin layer of post *** perspiration,
for even though the sun has already set,
the humid heat still sits there,
like the soon to be cloud covered moon,
that hangs lazily in the sky,
seeming neither amused nor moved by our human drama.

Her question,
is reasonable enough,
and she is,
beautiful enough,
so why,
when she asks,
“Can we make love,
at least a couple more times,
before we never see each other again?”,
can I not say yes?

Well,
for one,
I respect her too much to lie to her,
plus lying to such an honest question,
would seem so taboo,

reason number two,

they say,
we do not choose love,
they say,
love chooses us,
and I do not love her,
even though I may want to,
I do not love her,
because she is not the one Love had decided to choose,

I do not love her,
as amazing as she is,
even if I should love her,
for she is everything a mortal man could ask for,
she is,
a gorgeous and successful model,
with a sharp and receptive mind,
a big heart,
and maybe most importantly,
an undying devotional love for me,
so logically,
I should love her,

but love is not logical,
love is as passionate and irrational,
as the weather here in Baja,
one moment shining bright with clear skies,
the next moment dark and ominous with gathering clouds,

so when she asks me,
“Can we make love,
at least a couple more times,
before we never see each other again?”,

I simply say nothing,
for what can I say,
how can I explain the irrational,
how can I say the one word,
that will break her heart open,
then watch that heart break right in front of me,
how can I say “No”,
to the one question,
that the girl that has said “Yes”,
to my every question,
asks me?

So I say nothing,
I simply open this writing book,
as these skies open above us,
and write down these thoughts upon these pages,
as the desert rains fall down upon us,

I write this poem,
as we lay naked as the day we were born,
in this bed at this beachside bungalow in Baja,
as the incessant crash of the ocean waves in the background,
adds to the aphro-ambiance,
of this bittersweet moment in time,
so that even when I am gone,
and she is gone,
and we are gone,
these words,
from these thoughts,
will live forever,
immortalized in this verse,
forever resting,
somewhere in the collective psyche,
of our unified broken hearts,

as we lay there,
as we mutually mourn,
all that has been loved,
and all that has been lost,
in this impermanent moment called Life,

and she asks,
"Can we make love,
at least a couple more times,
before we never see each other again?”,

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆

It's been a year
Since you broke me
The first time.
Yet, your expresso eyes
Are still the only ones I
Want
To see past the fog of
mine.

I wish I could hate you
Oh how simple that would be
But I can't
When the only thing you didn't do
Right
Was love me the way
I love you.

nothing feels right anymore
all of a sudden it seems like the sun sets strangely
the clock ticks quite unusually
the river stops flowing
and your heart stops beating
for me

the songs you used to sing left a mark on me
every note were wounds that i thought were healed
you sung every word like a promise you were afraid to break
and every feeling comes rushing back once the first note plays

my heart felt so heavy
since the day you chose to break it
you were the only thing i can think of
from the second i open my eyes to the minute i close them
and i cant do anything to help myself
except for wishing that i hope i made you stay

it still aches for you
i still cry whenever i remember the sweet things you told me
whenever i remember you singing and laughing
and i miss how i was the reason whenever i see you smiling

-l.e.

Met a man on the beach today,
saw him taking photos in the rising Sun's light,
asked him “Flora or Fauna”,
he replied with “Fauna”,

I approached,
he pointed out a bullfrog,
hidden amongst the reeds,
keeping cool in the Mekong's mud,

then he pointed out several lizards clinging to blades of grass,

the fact is that,
I never would have noticed these animals if he hadn’t pointed them out,

I guess sometimes we don’t see things right in front of us,
until we are shown them by others that are the wiser,
or at least that are more observant,
I observed him,

as he observed the animals our interaction continuing,

we walked,
down the the banks of the Mekong,
I showed him a carved artifact,
that I’d found washed up upon the beach,

there had been a series of storms lately,
which had led to floods,
which had led to the unearthing,
of artifacts that had been resting in their earthen beds for hundreds of years,

sometimes it takes a bit of turmoil to unearth that which is covered,
see just because something is covered doesn't mean it's not there,

anyways no matter where we go there we are,

and there we were in that morning rise of sun,
we walked closer to the rushing waters,
where the girl I was with had been observing,
me observing the man who was observing the Fauna,

the girl I was with asked the man casually,
“So man where are you from?”,
it's a common question amongst travelers,
but sometimes a very common thing can lead to something very rare,

He said he was from America and that he’d had enough of it,
he said the doctors had suggested open heart surgery and he was having none of it,
he said he was a Flower Child of the '60's a Vietnam Vet,
and had always had a “stick it to the man kinda attitude.”,

apparently he had heart disease,
caused by a clogging of his arteries,
not enough blood or not enough love or not enough what ever,
was reaching his still beating heart,

the doctors,
with there religious faith in Western Medicine,
warned him if he didn't go in for surgery,
that his early death would come for certain,

they gave him six months to live,
“gave” him like they are God,
like they can “give” life,
while predicting an early death like Death follows any mortals schedule,

no doctor can “give” life but they sure can take it away,

with their agnostic diagnostics and toxic antibiotics,
did you know that Mustard Gas is used in Chemotherapy?

Seriously.

So anyways he,
was diagnosed with heart disease,
given a six month life expectancy,
and told that his current state of being was in itself a medical emergency.

When he heard the news,
he made a conscious decision,
he flew to Laos to escape the 3 trillion dollar U.S. Medical Industry,
he decided he would rather die free than live in a hospitalized prison,

that was 4 years ago from the day we met and he's still alive and kicking,

now he lives amongst the Lao people,
building pipes and helping water flow,
kinda ironic honestly that as a result of his pipes being clogged,
he now helps pipes flow but I guess that's how it goes,

gravity fed springs and moments that are enlightening are both wonderful things.

I thought about help and about charity and about giving to others who may be in need,

and then I began to think,
as this man told his tale,
it’s better to die a free man,
than live in a hospital that’s turned into a jail,

no bail,
only one way out,
nobody gets out of here alive,
our body’s are maximum security penitentiaries,

and I understood exactly this mans Last Stand For Freedom,

he refused to be claimed be the hospital system,
he refused to be confined to a bed and fed through a tube,
he’d rather die happy and free taking photos on the Mekong,
have a heart attack and die taking a photo of a bullfrog,

his cardiac arrested onto his back he'd fall until he’s resting eyes up at the Heavens,

fading out like a saffron sunset upon the muddy waters flow,

no kids no wife no pets just him and his past he wants to die happy and alone,

alone as as we all are when we go,
and we all go one way or another whether Flora or Fauna,
I shook his hand thanked him for his insight then the girl and I left,
to continue on our Life's adventure…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

from The Holy Trilogy vol.1; available worldwide; 11/11/16 ∆

Universal Language of Love

Poets are supposed to be,
the moral scribes of our current Times,
writing words that are lyrical lessons,
expressed in stanzas and rhymes,

so I suppose if poets are supposed to be,
then occasionally we are Martyrs as well,
but I will gladly be crucified for our collective sins,
if it means our daughters don’t have to live in a Hell,

well then,
if that’s the case so be it,
here we go another Prose,
I didn’t write the rules I just call it like I see it,

we could all be a little more kind,
we could all be a little more fair,
we could all help heal this world,
all we have to do is actually care,

see it’s not enough to just talk with compassion,
we have to manifest that compassion passionately into action,
only then will we be the change we want to see,
and actually manifest what we really want to see happen,

let’s start with calling a truce,
universally,
we’ve all endured enough abuse,
truthfully,

let’s stop dropping bombs,
let’s stop shooting guns,
let’s stop following false leaders,
let’s show some Light of Hope to the Young,

let’s release all non violent offenders,
from the rusty bowels of the for profit prison system,
let’s let them return to their respective families,
for surely they are all loved and have loved ones that miss them,

let’s remember,
we all have Mothers and Fathers,
recognize that that Man is someone’s Son,
and that Woman is someone’s Daughter,

have some respect for God’s sake,

have some love for the Loveless,
and I know it sounds way too cliche,
but let’s finally give Peace a chance,
and let’s give all of our love away,

let’s give love a way,

it’s okay,

honestly,
anyone can shoot an enemy,
but to embrace someone totally different,
now that takes real strength,

come on,
it feel good to feel good when you help someone feel good,
violence is over and done with we are the Ones with the funds Kid,
we can create the picture perfect frame no games and #nofilter,

the Rhythm is a dancer,
and Love is a healer,
music can communicate,
nature can be a great teacher,

breathe you’re,
alive,
this is your life,
anything wrong we can make right,

You choose what You do not the News,
the News is the Blues and You’re the Rainbow after a Rainstorm,
You are as Beautiful as You want to be,
don’t judge someone on their physical body ask Tom Ford,

“As humans we do respond to certain things,
on some sort of very deep level,
we find symmetry of the face more pleasing than not,
at least in general.
But overall we are are so completely conditioned,
to think certain things are beautiful and others are not,
I cast some people who I did not necessarily originally think of as beautiful,
in the latest film that I am working on.
And through filming them,
watching them and editing them,
I now find them beautiful,
and actually quite movingly eloquent.
Which got me wondering,
why did I originally not think of them as beautiful?
If you can divorce yourself,
from what contemporary culture has told us is beautiful,
you can find beauty in places you wouldn’t expect.”,

Tom said it best,
instead of needing emotional anesthetic,
to add to your personal aesthetics,
that’s right I wrote it and Tom Ford said it,

with the exception of a few of my edits,
see we all act in this Movie so we all deserve some credit,
which leads me to this inquiry,
what do you want your tombstone to read when God roles the credits?

This is all real,
no special effects,
this is your life,
live and direct,

so what are you going to choose to do,
sit down shut up and quietly wait for your light to burn out,
or stand up,
let loose and choose to speak out!

This is it,
it’s your life you have to choose not me,
you’re your own leader living your life,
I just write it because I’m the writer and this is the poetry,

because poets are here to spark the thoughts,
that invoke the change that comes from commentary that’s controversial,
because we might all speak in different tongues,
but we all know that Love is the only language that’s truly universal…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆