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 Jun 2023
"I'm not able to rid myself of my self."  Herve Guibert

days alienated from nights,
from the magnitude of their roots
in the absence of your touch
electric love poems on the tip of your tongue
an electric symetry seems to surface in me today
in the doorway

I surrender to the nascent desire and glance into
the protocol of impulse, the chemistry of freedom inhaled
energetic transference from your skin onto mine
a cave woman deeper than me insists to dress me
in your unknown selves since
I have nothing else to undress, like a wound
 Apr 2023
oh, how the world really functions
the most unbearable aliveness, pain
so good to have tears to offer to
the god of patience and enduring
I pray for a gentle pain,
a gentle sway of caring
the courage of dawn
 Sep 2018

melted ice cream afternoons
bogged down

rising from asphalt
in magical mist
that transforms
the day into
a test of endurance

even dusk offers
no solace
in frozen watermelon bliss


smoke permeates fabric
hair and every surface
with peace and grit
wafting over
the crispy
edges of predawn

begging sleep
to the most stubborn

rotisserie style dreams
till morning


there's less death today
waiting in line
in candy store nightmares
begging silence
from the jubilant

but the sky turned up
a dream state

in that beguiling beauty
is brilliance


in shadows
the earth falls silent

rustling through
tall tales
the moon births

images in hidden corners

evening strolls
turn adventures

and every day
burns quick
to be reborn slowly


the weight of hell
in short tempered bites
**** will with a proficiency
unseen outside
a viper's silent hunt

ready for war
with fists losing

breaking triple digit


Incessant banging through walls built faster than I am strong enough to demolish, cradling lace so it won't rip on my forked tongue. There is only so much care left to handle perception just trying to breathe through a smile.
 Sep 2018
Harley Hucof
Hunting for redemption to attain our immoral remission
We believe forgiveness is needed to endure our mission

Escaping our past in a vile bottle of wine
Wisdom is what we seek due to all the mistreated time

Sages and savages, the two faces of the coin
In this feral world, wich one was i born?

Words Of Harfouchism
 Aug 2018
Harley Hucof
I resonate
Smiling down from my room
Expectations kills reality
Just as reality kills fantasies

Are they my friends ?

I see the enemy in front of me
He is fearful and he is mocking me

Whispers and looks
Dishonest insects trying to be the center of attention in the room

I am aware of them
Their masks and uniforms
Their scent and their many forms

It is easy to be seduced
But not anymore
I will not be used

There are still many shapes for me to become
Wisdom is the opposite of freedom

I see the enemy in front of me
He is laughing and he is looking at me

I want to end this but he is not letting me

I see the enemy in front of me
Suddenly everything is clearer
I am looking at myself in the mirror

I can't feel anything

But i resonate

Words Of Harfouchism
I am my own enemy and my ego is stopping me from being happy
 Jul 2018
Harley Hucof
Do you ask yourself , like me ?
When will your obssesions leave you be ?

Will time ever stop so you can truly be free ?

Once again i am all by myself , facing the sea

the city is empty

I am leaking thoughts
Trying to make sense of the man i have become

I try to focus but i keep drifting away

The city is empty

There is a conflict inside of me full of sway
Lost in the thought of the voice i must obey
Far beyond myself, it is the only way to keep at bay

I let go as i fade away

In the background the echo of a queen made of clay: pray my son! You must pray!

Words Of Harfouchism
 May 2018
We were always crazy kids with crazy dreams.
And we never changed.
Crazy kids.
With their crazy ideas.
Ideas of world peace and of no hunger.
These crazy kids they say.
But I’m one of them.
A crazy kid with her own crazy ideas.
Crazy dreams.
Dreams full of nothing but the future.
Crazy girl. With your crazy thoughts.
Stop for a second.
They’ll say give up.
Don’t do it crazy kid.
Don’t ever look back.
Or down. Or away.
Crazy kid with your crazy thoughts.
What will you think of next?
I want to progress... I want to change things.
 Apr 2018
I’m happy
(I’m depressed)

I love myself
(I hate myself)

I can’t wait to live my life
(I can’t wait to die)

I am lucky to have my friends
(why do they even like me?)

I have a family who loves me
(and I continue to disappoint them)

I am an excellent student
(I can’t focus in school)

I want to travel the world
(will I even live to do that?)

I’m fine
(I’m not fine)

I’m perfectly okay
(please help me)
 Mar 2018
Julian Delia
Picture –
The ancient slave
On one knee, hands in chains
From his dreams, he refrains
A soul destined
To follow his master
Like a beaten dog tied to a post.
The few who rebelled
Either died, or were expelled,
Outcasts for life,
Labelled as heretics, agents of strife.

The ancient slave
Was born a slave, a captive soul
Animated as a shadow, not a whole.
No freedom, no choice –
A voice
With its chords tied,
Its right to speak denied
Because slavers and a bill of sale said so.

Visualise –
The modern slave
The one who is born
Not with bonds made of chains
But of laws,
Of the systemic corruption
The incessant drive for consumption
And the illusion of freedom.
It is the modern slave
Who lives the greatest lie –
A purposeless drone who will die
Thinking he has lived
Because he had an affair with life.

A life fully savoured
Cannot be just this.
Working 40 – 60 hour weeks
A system that just reeks
Of exploitation,
Of the horrible foundation
On which everything we know is built.

Most of us
Work to eat, to provide,
No secret accounts to hide;
Most of us
Make enough to get by,
Maybe enjoy the weekend
When given the leave to do so.
Most of us
Have this affair with life
Living freely for a few hours
Like rain when it’s just summer showers
Brief flickers, drops of rain
Sprinkled onto an otherwise barren field of crops
Of which the main harvest is pain.

A few of us, however,
Endlessly profit and plunder;
The modern slave
Differs from his ancestor
For he chooses his master
And loves him.
He is conned
Into thinking his masters care
Allegiances are laid bare
Hands are cast in adulation
Rights undergo strangulation
And nobody bats an eyelid.

The modern slave
Caresses his chains,
Wears them like a badge of office
Distaste for dissidence of the state
Pouring out of every orifice.
The modern slave
Could learn and understand
Confront the shimmering illusion, the shifting sand
That is the realm of made men,
But doesn’t.

Rather than fight back
We consume the great lie like crack;
These made men
Will run our planet into the ground
Until it is no longer a home
But a graveyard made for us, by us.
These made men
Spin lies, smear the truth
Force them to mingle and interchange
Like mismatched lovers in a diner booth.
Reality has shifted
It has become unbelievably twisted,
Our perceptions are suffering.
Towards each other, we direct our hostility
Unable to grasp the possibility
Of a better way.

The modern slave
Is cosy in his prison cell;
The reality of the world outside
Is a structured, engineered hell
To be avoided.
So, we just build our own bubble
Outside of which
Our only, primary concern
Is how to get rich.

Life isn’t meant to be an affair;
Life shouldn’t be
Something we are given permission for
But a free pursuit of happiness,
A learning experience.
So, with this I will conclude –
Raise your fists in the air
If you are tired of living bare,
If you’re tired of a world that does not care.
 Feb 2018
Death and Life sat together
Watching as the sun
Went away that night and said
Goodnight to everyone

Death was looking at Life
Whose head was pointed to the ground
Why my beautiful Mistress
Do you carry such a frown?

Life replied sadly,
I am sad to only see
That tears and screams await you
And all the smiles go to me

Death now understood
Why his mistress was depressed
I can't explain it all, said he
But I'll try to do my best.

Death, hand in hand with Life,
Started to explain,
I am a Truth that can't be outrun,
But you are a Lie that they live away.

You are merely temporary,
But I am always imminent,
Although they want the opposite
I am stuck forever, permanent

But isn't there- said Life
Who was promptly stopped by Death,
No, he answered, there's none.
So she cried through broken breaths

Death heard a familiar ring;
And all too familiar it was.
I must be going.
And you should leave as well,
For reasons you should be knowing.

Yes, said Life
Through her broken cries,
For you are the Unwanted Truth,
And I am their Beautiful Lies.

Death began to chuckle,
Yes this is true.
That every Truth ends with me,
And every Lie begins with you.

So they walked away together
And through the hospital doors,
One to tell a Truth,
And the other to Lie once more.
I based this poem off of a cute comic I saw on tumblr. ^_^
 Oct 2017
Mikey Pooler
Happiness is merely the control of depression. Acknowledge  depression as a necessary existence in your life. Letting it run its course and violently destroy in silent mayhem. Letting its pain, its blank, numbness of all feeling whilst at the same time in unexplainable fashion, the most horrendous type of pain ever felt, happen. Let it feel as if, all that which once burned so beautifully within you crumbles as ash in your blood. Ash being evidence passionate fires once danced there.  

However, don't ******* dare let depression control how you bask in the bliss of its absence. Bask with dance, bask with that one song you always blast in the car with your best friend and as soon as it comes on, you just look at each other and sing loud with your head out of the car window, bask in bliss as if you were the sun that basks in clear blue skies.

Sharing a shine which somehow seems brighter, with the songs of the birds playing tunes of a deeper love, and the warmth of rays you've always liked yet took for granted become ever so lovely following a harsh, seemingly endless winter.

Let depression happen, it's never for forever. You can't control when depression will come, just as we can't control the weather. Like the clouds, depression will leave the sky in time to bask in more sunshine.

Things will get better, it will all happen naturally. Depression will come and go in an endless loop throughout life, though, like a pesky fly trapped in a room it will blindly and anxiously wisp and weave its way deep within our souls, but like flies depression will always look for a way out. Even if we open the door immediately, flies will move with anxiety, they want to leave though don't realize a wall is there until they've already hit it. They'll linger, get lost and give up for awhile. We can open the door and watch with anger until we come to mirrior the fly, become anxious, why won't this fly leave? Maybe this fly is here to stay? You wake up everyday to sunshine beeming in your face, until one day you could no longer ignore it, so you open your door to leave and enjoy it, coming home to notice the fly left with you, and didn't come back. Happiness is merely holding the door open for depression to leave.
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