sometimes
talking to You feels like
leaving a message on an answering machine
how do i know You can hear me?
call me selfish,
but i wish i could see Your face

Communication.


I want to mean something to somebody.
I want somebody to care.
I want to be able to dance under a disco ball with somebody,
Whilst pretending that nobody else is there.


Love is my purpose and poems are my wares.
All I have is for sale, to anyone who is willing to pretend to care.
Wishing for a change of fortune,
Finding out that nothing ever changes.
Everything remains the same, unfortunately;
Jigsaw puzzle mind…
I must rearrange it.


The order of the things;
The way things must be done.
You have taken my voice and ruined the joy of singing;
Can I please just have a little more fun?


It’s funny really, this reality.
Painful memories, I throw away with my apathy.
Embrace all new experiences.
I am worthless, without your guidance.


I write words down in the hope that somebody will read it
And understand what I mean, when I am sounding so mean.
I am sorry;
I did not mean for it to change your idea of me.
I guess I just say the wrong thing.


Let us build a bridge between us;
Communication is the key.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

-letters
a character representing one or more of the sounds used in speech

these no longer fit together to form the words i need to talk to you

-words
a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with other words to form a sentence

these seemingly simple elements of speech don't seem to work together to become the sentences i want to say to you

-sentences
a set of words that is complete in itself

i look at you and suddenly my mind is no longer capable of putting together the sentences i long to give you

words without warmth
are like the dry wind
that has lost its water
over the high cliffs of life

they cannot water a wilting soul
but  will only take away
the little life left
and leave it collapsed

"thank you"s are tired
over worked, over used
only an ASCII  string, no more
"i’m sorry"s stare in the face
of the expectant mind
expressionless

bring words back from the wastelands
give them the life they’ve lost
make them carry between their bits
the warm care of a human for another

No god ever spoke to me.
Not because I never tried!
There were times I cried
And begged to hear a word.
Nothing seemed to be heard.
There was no imperious voice
With avoiding not being a choice.
There was no burning bush;
Nor gentle or heavy push
One direction or the other.

It remained for me to get together
With some paid hack with a book
Who preferred not to look at me
Because he wanted to deal with
Easier sins than I could offer
Then, I was to add to his coffer
For rebuilding his den of thieves
But that couldn't relieve my worry
Or my problems. Maybe the Muslims
Could chant from their book of mysteries.

But no, I had already read their history
And large hunks of their sacred poems.
I recognize double-talk when I see them.
I got plenty of that in my upbringing.
I can still hear the songs they were singing
About eyes on sparrows and loving
But the poor are still naked and dying.
The poor are all nationalities and colors
And they lay in the gutters together
As the godly brothers pass; spit at them
And demand they get up and move away
And take their misery to another doorway.

I, the unhearing, could find no endearing
Reason to put on costumes and dance
To some four thousand year old romance
About gypsies and witches promising
To keep on doing what I was doing
And I would see the kingdom of heaven
Or maybe even six or seven, to suit belief.
Meanwhile here I am on this reef, at sea
With no deity to talk to me and explain
Why none of the miracles remain today
But have been washed away by time.
Or did they ever really exist at all?
Me? I’m still awaiting that divine call;
For my schefflera to catch on fire, or
To receive from god a Western Union wire.