Lily 1d
2018.
Loads of knowledge, literally at our fingertips,
Yet no one knows what to do with it.
We don’t want the billions of videos,
Facts, and pictures that are available to us.
As a human race,
We are craving something more.
We crave sunny days,
Gentle fingers through our hair,
Adorable newborn puppies running for the first time.
We crave a cozy family movie night,
Tucking obedient children into bed,
Sending them off to school the next morning with no worries.
We crave the fulfillment that our favorite meal brings,
The joy of spending a day with friends,
The comfort of a good night’s sleep.
Because the simple and everyday things
Are the ones we can never have.
“It’s far better, to do your own duties imperfectly,
than to master the duties of another.”
Lord Krishna

Even just to live, takes extreme summouring
threads of courage. To have that same courage
to be self-produced, is even rarer. Without
anxious dependence, as this present, unfolds
into the future, parting from the past. To stop,
for a single second, to have romance, under
candlelight. Blessed. There is no easy way
from earth to Heaven and to dance with the
stars, that humanity call ‘constellations’. Do
not debate it, those who dare to live originally
is the brave, without fear of persecution. Material
wealth slaves the fool and has the potential to
master the wise, the poorest person is the one
who still wants more. The sun still rises and
even on sin, it still shines. To whoever has ever
experienced love, knows how to turn themselves
into a muse to poets. And there I go, to cross these
plains in utter exile, in hope to avoid death
(knowledge variable)
Live now, live hard in passion, live now, as if
all eyes are on you to lead them, live as if forever exists
inside, let no mind be fraile and know fully-well,
death is around the corner, in all it’s conquering
glory, for death is definite. Live now, like if one
has destroyed both desire and anxiety. Live now,
as if you had discovered love. Live now, as if
your soulmate had just broke freely from the
mold of poetry and had demanded it from you.
Live now, as if your own fate is turn into a
burning Muse and in the transition into death,
your reward is be a martyr. For those are who
had lived when they had the chance.
Violent heartbeat


Poets are sponges, we take it all inside.
We keep it for use later, safely in the back of our minds.
A memory, an image; a picture of a picture.
We are the student, the expert, the novice and the teacher.


This is all I have to give!  This and nothing more.
Nevermore shall I lead forward; stand alone and learn to crawl.
For I am but an infant, inside this land of experts;
I have nothing of importance to say,
Except, I love the way you use those words,
With a memory so clearly full of megahertz.


I am forever learning how to talk in verse;
Exaggerate the truth, some say there are lies beneath those words.
Poetry is yours to do as your own.
Someone else’s opinion shouldn't affect your writing,
So find your feet in your own time and hope to become well known.


Empty your mind of negativity, so you can become free and shapeless;
Then you can become anything you want to understand.


You can become that thing without effort ever being wasted;
Write like you mean it, with a violent heartbeat
And all you will become is a writer and a poet
And on the shoulders of giants you shall stand.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
The Path


The path I have followed has many twists and turns;
I have walked alongside angels and behind me my demons still lurk.
Quick to seize upon a trip, or a slip of the tongue.
Without a vice I would be nice;
Every day I tell myself that I smoke too much.


Still I continue into the unseen ahead;
I can only keep on walking, knowing I have never tried my best.
I will not try to persuade you to join me on this journey;
For this is my path to walk alone.


So I will continue to journey onwards,
Bid you goodbye and thank you for the talk;
Because you have a path of your own, which you alone must walk.


In peace for once, I slow to a crawl;
No energy left to put up a wall.
So inside they creep, the darkest of thoughts.
This is just a part of my story;
A stepping stone on my long walk.


Careful of placing my feet and lost to the world;
I have travelled along with no guide to show me a real love.
Forever searching for warmth in a life left so cold;
But pure of heart is my choice, so my future I must endure.


As years pass on by, the scenery changes day by day;
The thorns in my life will be replaced with milk and honey.
So I will continue, because I know this is the course I must take
And one day all this rain will transform and become sunny.


True north is the only way I know I am heading;
All the painful memories, I am slowly forgetting.
Forwards I march, into the distance,
Leaving no crumbs behind me as I walk.
I have no intention of turning my back on what is ahead of me;
I intend to embrace and feel it all.


The good, bad and the ugly;
The happiness and the tears.
I have followed this path for a lifetime
And my journey does not end here.


This path stretches out ahead of me,
Until the time my feet cease to move.
I have walked barefoot through the fires of Hell
And I have walked many miles in your shoes.
I have carried the weight of the world upon my shoulders sometimes;
I have put my thoughts down to rest, among the lines that I write.


I have let go of everything and what I miss the most;

Is the thing I never had…

…the knowledge of where it is I am going
And when it is I will know, where to go.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Let me soak in something than higher art, expression of reality that I experience. Effortless and distinction. Eternal on dawning-awakening. Evening kisses under moonlight. Pulling contrast. Attributing lines to poetry, but must experience the romance first. Deriving from dreams. In remote areas of my inner-world.

No mutual admiration, I adore the thought of being loved, for I have so much to give and I’m slowly tiring with engaging with poetry.

Their eyes glittered heaven and waved into my soul, lingering inside now. In mystery, touching my flesh, soothing poetry. Exchanging secrets. We conversed for days, afterwards, we sat in silence and I felt content for the first time. I had always read about love, poetry, novels, in songs I heard. As for finding one’s soulmate, I had always thought they exiled to the cosmo’s and never to exist here in the present with me now. Evoking meaning into me. Galactic beauty. Though it’s wildly-overwhelming, taming my entire essence. We kiss. Touch. Stare. Smile. For I have travelled far enough to meet the one shaped only for me.

Harmony.

Blending in paradise, paradox and reality. Be in the sweep of movement with me. It’s a strange land. Normal to my Muse. pounding scarlet. Brewing violet. Velvet blending. Long time melodramatic epic. As for my peers, they’re blowing in the wind on death row.

For me, I rose.

Installing myself into history. Drifting away from this world. Combing body, soul, heart and formed my essence. Belonging to a kingdom, unable to be articulated in any form of art or poetry. It’s sinful to avoid it. A culture of Muses, coming together, from something I just wanted pure love, in poetic romance, epic symphonies. Opera written than sung for me. As I approach my own destiny that I crafted for myself, there is destiny, but vain, despair, angst and pain, is from not from acting on life and falling into the mundane. With climate of the adoring music. As lyrics leaving me spellbound. And without a sound, I slide down, the tree of life as Goat heads pray. The trinity men singing in chanting words. Spanned across period of humanity.

Burning into consciousness.

In rewards, mythological fame, I’m in a world of my own. A single drop, into limitless paths, expressed wit my own hands touching immortality, as the population watches as a defenceless witness. Tender and full of emotion. I can birth any future for anyone

There’s nothing more eloquent than that glance at your lover, that somehow forces magic inside to boil and burst inside and you’ve got nothing else to do, than to violently act in lovemaking session, disregarding the world outside. All in unpredictable fashions, forming historic times, in it’s sliding wild and roaring romantic themes, that’s even new to our Muses and as humanity looks back on the lovers, it sparks the second renaissance. Kissing and touching in singular places, urging to move on, because it’s all too painful not to kiss and touch everywhere at the same time, moans turn into love songs, through the physical, the souls transcend through becoming one and finally, the meaning of life becomes all too visible, as for the fact of being all too human, drips and drops away in melting fashion and finally, like the bluebirds being let free from its cages for the first time. Lovers become free to live as they should. Angels in Gods eyes and illuminating everything they touch with ease. There is no boundaries between the two, no secrets, nothing to hold them back, all personal fears and insecurities become forgotten, like their personal history as their private-public flaws are mastered and moved on from. And in a gasp of romance aroma breathing in air, and perhaps with a little sting of envy, for anyone blessed enough to witness two that had found each other, despite life’s and this society's flaws, sin, expectations, they’ve got nothing to do, but to continue to gasp in awe, bringing any heart to tears. Though how vulgar, how much of cruel trick, with joking laughter, life would be, that there would be utterly no hope of actually finding one’s soulmate and experience the true and pure love of a soulmate and that dream only belonged in poetry or to some parallel world. And as much as I expect to be held responsible for thy sins committed in this life, for I fully expect to uphold my creator to my soulmate, whether that I get to experience them or not. Now I fully understand, that whether I’m living in paradise or not, it presents self-awareness and knowledge, bliss truly mixes in with the ignorant. As for now, all I know, that each love poem is only a trail left behind those who had experience it.

As for my own redemption, to all that I took apart by ignoring, I could only use this present to parent my future, not to repeat the mistake I’ve suffered in the past, do not pity me because I have. For I had apart in it. Strip back beliefs, perhaps there is no inherent good or evil and it’s all left to our hands to contribute either. It’s tiring engaging with this world, noticing my own duality. By each sin committed, by our acts of kindness, there’s a twinkling ripple in our actions and it’s the same in our silence that lacks any actions. The sun rises in the east and settles in the west. The sun raises itself daily.

For let us pray, we’ve all sinned and as for my kindness, let me learn to be self-satisfied in being the only person of knowing such action has taken place.

It can be a small world, constant crossing over moments, little for elevation, words on the wanting it all to end. As to the amount of gods in spectrum-history to humanity, to the same count can be called for the apocalypse, for it’s nothing new in the human psyche, the yearning for it is as strong to know the meaning of one and the entire humanities meaning. It won’t stop. Until it happens and when you speak of the Devil, he shall appear.

To develop, to know, to learn, to act on, to practise one’s own character that fate I had mention, to unfold throughout life is nothing short of an addictive-venture that brings such a lonely sickness. As to most laymen, for it’s too hard to grasp and ponder with thinking thoughts, that’s why martyrs had been deemed crazy-mad prior to dying. After that fateful action in death. Their life had personal permission to full live without fear of the outside.

Eat the apple.

Life can be taken in as thawing out.

I wander in darkness seeking light, failing to realize that the light is in the heart of the darkness. Surpassing all culture’s creed and dogma. Rising from the water to jump off the edge, flying through the clouds and drips of dazzling rain. Not accepting the natural status that others had placed upon. The mystics that sing the mysteries sing louder, binding themselves onto me. The glitter to the normal world is everything that vels are. Wisdom has o fears and as a pool of it, self-produced, never to run dry, for it eventually covers the ocean floor and everyone wants to know the code of poet’s immortality, never want to lead a new generation.

The world can end today. But not before I have my coffee.

For I’ll walk a flock of flames.

Conversing philosopher with the one, who holds the heart of a soldier and the brains to teach a whole globe.
Jack P 5d
for the plenty that proffer
"write what you know"
i'll have you know
i don't know much

pursuantly, here is my poem:

...
Listen, as you may miss.
And later unable to reminisce.
For a lifetime of knowledge and wisdom
May be lost in your personal abyss.
listen to your surroundings and observe what you can while soaking in all the knowledge in front of you.
Aa Harvey Apr 11
Choose Life


We choose our own teachers,
Just as we choose how to live.
We choose when to have faith,
Just as we choose what to see.


It’s just our personal choices that define us,
Including choices we chose not to make.
It may be our subconscious or conscious thoughts,
But it’s the same twenty four hours in this day.


The smallest of choices could change your life
And a choice we chose not to choose
Could have no effect at all.
But if we chose to succeed,
The chance of failure would shorten;
But would anything really change
If we chose nothing at all?


You see I could have chosen not to,
Write these words for you to read.
Just as you could have chosen
Not to use your brain and think,
About the underlying text;
Is it speaking the truth?
This is not my question to answer.
Its target is not you.


But still you choose to answer,
For you have read so you must speak.
I have no need for any opinion,
I just wrote this for me to read.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Let me be abandon, exile in isolation, coming to grip with death as a unavoidable action, never now, will I need to repent on never living my life, perhaps those made from genuine substance are the most lonely in known cosmos, doomed to read to poetry to pass the time, avoiding to be the contrary to those sticking to the masses. People collecting and colliding together, unsatisfied with themselves, filling out with luxuries, like rats scattering across the creaky wooden boards, avoiding those opposite - plagues. Love in poetry is never fulfillment of love, ony in the experience, no series of moments in life will stop the struggle, awakening happens in the blissful combustion in conquering the mind, the totality of being in existence, dominating reality and birthing freedom from it, life’s meaning has nothing to with being saved. To when I die, do not weep for when my coffin drops into the ground, for I had already passed, left to wonder this life, alone in exile, [pictures of me in my final state, on poetic grind, refuting mysterious rumours, waiting for comrades getting murdered and resurrected, can’t lie, got no love for the other side, at that other place, rumours that I died, murdered in cold blood, I just left.
(knowledge variable)
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