Fate in oblique wisdom gave,
A lonely soul a gentle heart.
Lost, he sought a love to save
What hope life had torn apart.

In time he saw her facade cave,
And felt her tenderly impart
A meaning to him that would pave
His path to glory; A legend's start.

A champion, proud, saw just a knave;
A tool to use, then take apart.
Into the ring, Creed swaggered brave;
What lay in wait was Rocky's heart.

“it is not your job to interpret tears.”

There are ones that seem to fix everything.
Ones that gently shift the quiet tightening of your stomach to your chest all the way up to the microscopic peaks of your eyelashes
So the tears that follow might dilute the smile splayed so comfortably across your eager lips.
You decipher your interpretation of the human psyche through a screen
and make sense of the way we work with a language consisting of the perfect combination of camera and conversation
And stories
People
Stories about people
Movies about stories about people
Because what could possibly be more captivating
More beautifully unattainable than capturing that amazingly horribly complicated and endless plethora of confusing entities we labelled “emotions" caught inside the specks of dust brought to life by the light of a projection beam

In smiles exchanged through eyelines coupled with passing glances
Things that we know but yet somehow choose to forget
Things we hold familiar yet still at a safe distance too close to call far
Things that define us under the word “human” in an improbable world where the only certainty is knowing that we will never fully understand the sheer tremendous mass of what it really means to be alive.
What it really means to hurt.
What it means to know that there is unimaginable pain hidden away in bastions of solitude we never have enough energy to track down
Or place paper flag pins on just to remember where they were last seen.

But in these moments of utterly unmitigated bewilderment as to what the **** is happening inside our heads,
There is that same recognisable sense of comfort we can find in a bed
shared with someone else whose story we haven’t yet read
Shadowed by waves of apprehension tangled with fear and sheer joy at being reminded of what it is like to feel the unabashed velocity of every single one of your heartbeats again
dulled only by the confines of your sacred home of flesh and bone.

We gather without question
in darkened rooms only lit momentarily with hushed flickers
and the soft kiss of a silent stream of light carrying the burden of a story on it’s back
We sit the same way in synchronised straightforward stares
because sometimes we find it impossible to turn and face what it is we are most afraid of knowing
So within 3 walls and a never-ending silver plane of infinite realities
Some communicate with hesitant hands
clumsily clashing amid every popcorn induced action
And lingering touches in places we know all too well but are terrified of letting the other into
Memorise the way it felt to have shoulders happily heavy with holding a head up high for 90 minutes
and the fading imprint of their fingers as they grazed the small space of your lower back while you both exited stage left
Eyes dizzy and dreamy with what they had just witnessed
Thoughts shared and thoughts kept secret
Locked away for safe keeping because there are some revelations that have to deepen before they can be divulged to the company still beside you
already wondering when the next time will be before the credits have even concluded
“We should do this again sometime.”

And sometimes it’s easier to watch other people doing what we don’t do best
To see carefully constructed characters holding broken mirrors to our shattered internal anatomies
To see them go through things we ache to be reminded of
Or things we could never have considered imagining for the sake of understanding
We will continue to watch these people succeed within limits we can only dream of
But with every scene we see ourselves in
With every subdued smile and uncontrolled laugh
will come more hope
With every subtle tear and inconspicuous frown
will come more wisdom
As we continue to teach ourselves with the help of those who have made it their vocation to teach life through a language of moving pictures
To show us how to dissect the pieces of our world we don’t know how to disassemble  

We will keep trying to make sense of where exactly it is we come in the grand scheme of the ever-changing eclectic cosmos

I start my search in a cinema.

Time moved through me
forgetting to carry me
with her.

And I waited.

Like the businessman
at Flinders Street Station
- stagnant -
while the world passed him by,
and time moved through him,
in fast motion;
forgetting to whisper past
his cheek
and sweep the petals
from his eyes.

For he carries a garden inside,
but all gardens
need time.

Miguel The Poet


I saw a poet die tonight, I see this every day.
Another man on another film, why must it be this way?
Any man can be something, it's impossible to be nothing,
The homeless drunk sleeps in his cardboard box,
His life is now in ruins.


But he was something once and he's still something now,
But his worth to this world, floats away into the clouds;
That cannot be touched, only seen from a distance,
When you stand in a cloud, you no longer exist.


He's gone from this world but his memory lives on,
In the mind of the coroner, but not for too long.
Tomorrow he becomes, just another deceased no-one,
But this time last decade, he really was the man.


He had a family and I'm sure he had friends,
But his funeral was empty and nobody cared.
But the preacher read the service and they buried his body.
Dead men tell no tales, but once upon a time he was a somebody.


Miguel the poet was a Portorican someone;
The story of his fight will forever live on.
His poetry is written down, for future generations to study,
Miguel the homeless drunk, will forever be somebody.


Injecting drugs into his body, to open his mind,
Drinking liqour from the bottle, ignoring all time.
For time stands still, when your life's in a daze,
But the Portorican poet, no longer surfs the waves.
His crest has fallen, back into the sea,
But Miguel the drunken poet, has inspired me.


Maybe I'll inspire you, to write down what you feel,
To notice your surroundings, to open your eyes and see.
The world is unbelievable, inspiration is all around,
Miguel’s inspiration will be remembered, now I've written it down.


(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Memories.


There is an old grey man sitting on the floor,
Looking at his reflection in the mirror.
He thinks to himself: What could have been?
What could I have changed?
To change the past and the things that I've seen?


No man deserves to see, the things we saw.
A collective unit, marching to war.
Thankfully now, I don't recall it all,
Just the men that I had killed.
I saw them all, with that look on their face,
That look that just makes me, feel so ashamed.


They were just kids, the same as us,
All just playing, at being soldiers,
All knowing the seriousness, of it all
And still all of us, were willing to ****,
Or be killed, by another kid with a rifle,
Just like the first one, that I killed.


But here's my best friend, to make me feel better,
Hello, Jack Daniels, I'll just get you a glass.
Ah that's better, I can't think anymore,
I think I'll just change the video and watch something else.


Oh what's this in here, Saving Private Ryan?
Oh, I haven't seen this in a while.
I'll just put it on and pour another whisky
And after this, I'll go to sleep.


Hmm, that's better, time for a drink I think,
Ah good Ol' Jack, always a good drink.
Oh it's six in the morning; I'd better get up,
Think I'll have a drink and then go for a walk.


But first I'll have a drink and see what's on the Telly,
Where's the ice, **** this weather.
Ah good Ol' Jack, let's see what's in the video shall we?
Oh it's that film I put on last night, when I fell asleep.


Saving Private Ryan?  Oh I haven't seen this in a while.
But remembering the lads, always makes me smile.
I'll just put it on and pour another whisky,
Then maybe I'll have a little snooze,
Before I get something to eat.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Journey


The yellow brick road stretches out in front of me;
I think it’s time to go fetch Dorothy.
I am the Tin Man whose heart has been stolen;
I am the fearful lion who can no longer roar.
I am a scarecrow without a brain, alone in a field.
I am what I am; my love life is no more.


Gone is the goodness of past lovers and love.
All that remains is a shell; I am a husk.
I am a ghost inside my mind’s prison;
I see many colours inside a prism.
I am somewhere over the rainbow;
I must make a decision.


What next on this journey?
I listen to Journey.

I’ll take the midnight train going anywhere…

It takes one step forward to start a thousand mile journey.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

****, OK let's do this one more time, if this goes wrong again then we'll just have to go with what we've got

Alright let's go.
I think you should bring the boom in just a bit closer. Yeah no that's too close, it's in frame - oh. Yeah that's it. OK, sound
Check
Lights.
Check
Camera, rolling.
Uh, scene 74, take 21

Action.

So kid, I uh heard you wanna be a rockstar. You know it's a tough profession, you're gonna have to deal with these thousands of people wanting to be close to you, and you're gonna have to make sure you choose the right people to come close. Oh and the talent you need to be a true rockstar, you sure you got it?

Yeah!

Atta boy.

scenes replay in my mind and it feels like our feature film is a remake of the broken romance i starred in last

i told the writers to change the plot
make the lover the protagonist and not the devil throwing jabs at my heart
i told the director to change the shot
make each seen la vie en rose instead of a black and white silent film
i told the costar make the camera believe that you love me instead of deceiving it and making the audience see how much you strive to hurt me
i told the lover please, make me feel the love you were casted to display
make me beg for your touch, crave your kiss and make your lips taste like honey
make your embrace feel safe and not like a war zone
make me believe that you love me but this time mean it.