What's the chance of anything changing?
Rearrange it; rediscover how to say it
And maybe we could avoid failing and aging.
Become immortal, or never thought of.
Chuckle, chortle, show the world your prose.
Your vernacular, may sound peculiar,
To those who speak another language;
But these words are yours, the accent your own,
Do not allow your soul to become languid,
By those who only criticize.
Take a chance and maybe you could say something right.
Maybe you could find a love to believe in
And maybe you could learn how to fly.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
you must got me some kind confused?
did you think i was ever gonna love you,
better gon'on find another little TRICK
to play cause i ain't no trick.
by gollie you better find you 'nother one.
Speak to me.
Your accent brings a smile to my face.
You make the words more beautiful.
I could happily listen to you talk about anything
And I would be amazed at the language you speak,
As it appears to be tangible.
I want to pluck your words from the air before they drift away.
I want to lift you up from any despair;
No harm should ever be sent your way.
I want to save you.
I will try to amaze you by telling you my truth;
I dream about you.
Well, not exactly you; just the image I have formed,
Of the ideal woman. She stands out from the norm,
For she is rather extraordinary.
I hope you are her; I have been waiting patiently,
For love to find me; I’m oh so ready to embrace love.
Are you made for me? Because I am love in human form.
If I were to become yours, would you want to be adored?
And cherished and kissed and merry and picked
Ahead of all others?
My chosen, let’s watch Frozen,
So I can hear the voice of an angel.
I have no need to change the channel.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
money speaks in an accent
few can quite
there's a certain inflection on
the cash forked out by
a tongue knowing
how to enunciate
will garner favors
which nicely inflate
the dialect is foreign
and of an unusual
those having an ear for it
receive a likeable
talking quids requires
a most refined voice
where the buyer has an
*unfair advantage of choice
He holds it comfortably in his mouth
Like a boiled sweet or a segment of orange
And when he says it , the sound is natural.
As if worn leather or turned wood could speak,
It sounds homely like a crackling log fire
But is also jarring like a metal nail
being dragged across a piece of slate.
I love how you pronounce my name,
so out of accent or character.
You make it sound so special.
as though it may belong to Someone else completely,
But you spell it out of conjecture.
you are always there,
in the back of my mind.
creeping down my spine ,
with everything that reminds me of you.
I wonder if that's the same with you?
I love how quirky and weird you are.
I love your extravagant exaggerations,
I love how I can pick you out of a crowd.
Even when you are walking miles away
with your back to me.
wearing that stupid scarf I gave you.
just so it reminds me of you
The obsession is just half the queer.
She kissed your cheek and smiled widely,
the corners of her mouth almost touching her
impeccably tattooed eyebrows.
She was not what you had pictured
from the back and forth email conversations
on quotes and designs and sizes.
She asked you to take a seat as she went to
smoke a cigarette outside the shop with a coworker;
Anna was her name...with two jack russel terriers -
one of them is like a honey badger apparently.
It's funny how the mind remembers certain things...
the way the smoke on her tongue smelled as she leaned in
adding ink to her needle,
or the song she kept humming while you
bit your tongue and stared at the decorated ceiling.
But the pain of the needle depositing the
into your skin was welcome...
It was nothing compared to the internal turmoil you were
experiencing the past seven days.
It almost felt good...
Not adrenaline good, but like good that you were capable of
something besides sadness and anger.
In the Barcelona airport two days earlier, you made your appointment.
One on your hip, one on your foot
100 pound deposit. No problem.
You needed something to occupy your
from the pain it endured over your "holiday."
So much for a holiday...
Surprise! Your friend is a backstabbing *****
who "secretly" hates you and tried to
ditch you repeatedly.
The needle grazes your hipbone and you wince.
"You okay?" Tota coos in her Italian accent.
You nod, but you know you're not really okay...
You never were...probably never will be OKAY.
Your mind wanders...wishing you were home
and not in London, three thousand miles away from
the only people who seem to care.
"Done!" Tota exclaims.
You examine her work, smiling.
The first time you have smiled in days.
"Get ready...this one is gona hurt!" she says, half excited.
You don't care...nothing can hurt more than your heart...
Too bad that can't be tattooed...
C o A n
T e E
t E i)
-o’er te blew
th’salty err shmellshlike.
Panama city is
Where I saw you
In a surf shop
Working your hour
Me an my grandpa walked in
Looking for directions
For the restroom....
Out of all the girls in the shop
He walks up to you
Your amazing beautiful light blues eyes
Are what caught me
With your amazing blonde hair
Then my grandpa asked
Where's the bathroom?
You answered with by
When you spoke I felt
The universe grab me
Your voice took me on a
Your voice the music in my
I will never forget that