did you watch the news?
she was beautiful, wasn't she!
they were so nice and wonderful!
it made me cry, seeing them!

the royal wedding?
- the ten that lost their lives in the Santa Fe High School shooting last Friday. thoughts and prayers won't do it anymore. come on America.
This is not a poem, but...

At least 10 people were killed as a result of a school shooting in Texas this morning. It's a tragedy, but one of the sort that seems to diminish in scope with each passing month. Ten people lost their lives in a fury of unimaginable pain and anguish, yet we seem to grow more immune by the hour. it's a mournful event over which we should weep, but it seems our hearts grow frosty and we hardly bat an eye. Because here's the thing--it's hardly news anymore. We are hardly surprised, hardly hurt, hardly affected. And this is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all.

4 victims were killed in a Tennessee Waffle House--surely now that I mention it, you recall the headlines. That was less than a month ago. The Parkland, Florida school shooting that left 17 dead was less than 2.5 months ago. The Sutherland Springs church shooting that left 26 dead was 6.5 months ago. The Las Vegas Massacre, which saw 58 people killed and over 800 injured, happened not even 8 months ago. The Pulse nightclub shooting that left 49 dead is not even 2 years old. The Charleston Church shooting, killing 9 and perpetrated by white supremacist Dylann Roof, isn't even 3 years old. The Aurora, Colorado movie theater shooting that killed 12 was almost 6 years ago, and the Sandy Hook shooting, leaving 27 dead--20 of whom were elementary schoolers--happened only months later.  The Virginia Tech shooting that killed 32 was 11 years ago. Columbine, where 15 people died, will be 19 years old this coming Sunday.

We remember all the headlines, but little of the aftermath. There's too much pain and trauma involved to fully recall the mournful scenes that follow each shooting. And so we are forced to attempt to move on with our lives, thereby washing our hands of the stain of these bloody massacres. We call for reforms, then forget when our politicians move on.

Indeed, our greatest and most fearsome coping mechanism, put simply, has been to forget. We forget the anguish, the empty, hollow, now-caustic thoughts and prayers, the toothless promises of reform. We forget, and move on. On to the street, on to the next, safe in the knowledge that we tried.


It seems to me that the greatest and most lamentable tragedy of this entire conversation may not be the crime itself, but rather our reaction to it.

And so it was, then, that when I read this morning's headline about the Texas shooting, I was hardly surprised. My greatest shock was that I was not shocked. And that I was not shocked, and that you weren't either, I'll wager, might be a crime greater than all the others.

After all, those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it, no?

Until next time, then...
C’mon, let’s drop some more bombs!
It’s alright, they are the ones who are wrong.
They run, they scream, they hide—
It’s alright, people always die
There’s no need to know why
Just go focus on getting by.

But I’m tired of all the lies
I can’t see—
I’ve lost sight of the blue skies
The fire and smoke burns my eyes
It’s alright, everyone dies!

But why would I live
Where there’s no sunrise?
Blacked out by greed in disguise
I think I can hear their cries!
It’s alright, everyone dies!

Oh, but I know why!
It’s now so clear to me
Oh, yes, I can see
When You compare us to them
It looks like we are free
But this is not who we ought to be
We have to break from this false reverie!

You can’t erase what You’ve done,
Our memories, or the fallen ones.
None of this is my idea of fun
So I won’t turn, I won’t run,
Not until we see the day
When peace has won.
A poem for the American military industrial complex
I thought everything would change

without any good input one day

I thought human responsibility

was ascending and making money

to support the tower steel and stone

to leave forgotten lives below

wishing and wanting that

same thing

Where the pyramid remains

built tip to base
have you heard that 3-d?
what a somber wail.
i found this old data plug
with an entire library of music still intact.
turns out there were
at a time
cartoon people who
looked like monkeys
and had a band
get this
The Monkeys.

What do you mean you think the file's corrupted?
Everything seems just fine to me.
Shame on you America ...

shame on you people there ...
shame on this nation ...
who agree with an occupation ...
to take off a nation's rights ...
and to give it to another ...
from Palestine's nation ...
whom own the land ...
to that Israeli  occupier ...
who killed the child ...
and the women ...
and the old men ...
even they killed ...
all Prophets ...
yes ...
even read the history ...
ask the old men ...
old ones whom have ...
just a pure heart and soul ...

shame on you people there ...
on you America nation ...
to got silent for Trump ...
with your silent ...
you made a great a crime ...
Human crime for all the world ...
how could you agree ...
Trump is just a person ...
just a number ...
he will go with no return back ...
as before him ...
they gone ...
and they never come back again ...
but you as a great nation ...
will be forever ...
how could you agree with Trump ...

shame on you America...
shame on you people there ...
read the history ...
Palestine ...
the kuds ...
it's the home ...
and the holy land ...
for Palestinian people only ...

yes people there ...
shame on you America ...
shame on you ...

hazem al ...
Aa Harvey May 13

Dream a nation; take a vacation.
Autopilot does not need direction.
Claim a notion; works a vocation.
Words do not have to have perfect punctuation.

Message in a bottle; totally random.
Chaos Theory.  A hat may not fit.
Ring the chapel bells and then leap on a tandem.
Tyger eyes watch it go by without realizing it.

(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Andy May 10
a black man in the Confederacy; loving consumerism or forced into this physical bondage?
Jim Crow poses, contorts, smiles, shoots; a gun on the red carpet;
Calvin the Second or Tracy Martin?
Does it matter? Dance gwara dance gwara, watch the foreground and
never the back the dance is to distract the killing is back
shooting money, that dance is funny, now it's time to pray
Charleston, South Carolina, June 17, 2015, a gun on the red carpet as the human rights take backstage;
race riots ignite, days later we give up the fight
don't Stop to look Up for fallIng objeCts, Is the DancE to defend or distract? Smile, you're on camera
Flames to the left, and the apocalypse passes behind it all, unnoticed,
rise up and forget
broken lemons abound, liberty takes a seat now, and the drivers are nowhere to be found, keep dancing now
Watch from this sunken place, run from the devil, you know it's a race
An exploration into Childish Gambino's "This is America"
To be read while watching the Official Music Video
Link here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYOjWnS4cMY
Sky May 9
There goes Hooker’s nose
Larger than life, breathed in
“Majestic, it sprang” from his face
“The marvel of time, the wonder of men”
Molded by the General and his
lyrical men

Whip Bobbie Lee you may,
for this miracle happened
in the strangest way
in the meadows,
in the bright of day
three invaluable cigars lay

Some men smart in ways unimagined,
appear as Janus in the midst of kings,
feign blunder to catch the unsuspecting plunderer,
who waltzes right in (or away) from his fate,
sucking the grit out of men, they lose faith

To His right is the good thief
and he inclines his head
But a thief is a thief, nonetheless?

Two-hundred-ninety-nine-hundred-two men are in the cornfield, their mouths silently forming hurrahs and their hands slack at their sides.
Two-hundred-ninety-nine-hundred-two-men are bloody eagles of Indiana.

“No shock can destroy”, the carnage of Shocksburg
“The world shall behold”, “the triumph of”
“Tyranny, sorrow, and darkness”
“Hurrah for the” “dream
of a madman, the song of a fool.”

McClellan sees double, no, triple.
And Lincoln, victory where there isn’t.
And I, beauty where one should not.

Let men become crusaders, emancipators, and proclamators,
of all things and
all things good and just.  

Your arms resemble corn stalks and your eyes
poppy seeds. Spread-eagle yourself, at the mercy of
the Kingdom of Heaven.
Say your last Hurrahs and clutch that laundry tight
to your chest.

Disillusioned people get nowhere, at least illusioned people can
walk themselves over to the doors of Death?

Samuel is like many other black laborers in the infantry-- mistaken in the most wonderful way.
“Hurrah! for the Union” he says.
and I begin to teach him how to write.
collection of SEPARATE poems throughout an AP US history research paper done on the Civil War (27th Indiana infantry regiment)

Aa Harvey May 6

When I leave this place, remember me.
I never accomplished anything,
But I kept on writing my poetry.
I wrote it just for you and all for me…

Sitting in a bar, she drinks whiskey and gin.
I don’t drink myself, but she can do her thing.
As I watch her dance, I sit here and think,
She sure is beautiful; I am so glad she is my perfect, beauty Queen.

She has always been there since the days of no cash
And when I have nothing to say, she can always make me laugh.
My sweet Marie, my pretty thing;
My sweet Marie can always make my heart sing.

In my pickup truck, she picks me up.
We have got a show to see tonight, that we sure do love.
There’s a man on stage,
Talking about the olden days.
Marie gives me a hug and we reminisce.
Those memories, they still remain;
She can take me back to the beginning with just a single kiss.

We met in a bar in a rundown part of town;
We made some money and I own that bar now.
‘It’s a bad investment’; that’s what they all said,
But I smile at them all and say “You’re a long time dead.”
I’ve only got one life to live
And I have found Marie, my pretty thing;
So you can all worry about the money,
I’ve got all that I need…
My sweet Marie.

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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