Today was hard, I felt detached.
I didn't notice my socks weren't matched.
I spilt some ketchup on my shirt,
And dropped my lunch into the dirt.
Later in, to increase my doom,
I locked my pack inside the room.
I've been good, as good as can be,
So why, Mr. Murphy, is this happening to me?
I've had it up to here! This is the last straw!
I'm sick of being picked on by Mr. Murphy's Law!

Revolution: Part Two.


William Blake saw a New World Order.
A revolution, a new way forward.
To feel is to exist and our feelings come before our thoughts;
But anarchy is illegal, you must follow the cardinal rules.


You need a God, to live your lives,
To make you believe, it will turn out alright;
To let you believe, what you think is right.
Well do what you must and release me from life.
Lay me down under the guillotine,
Then let me say goodbye to my wife.
I simply stare into the basket,
Before I float up to the light.


Sacrifice your life, to gain the freedom you should have;
Lay down your life, to make a stand.
Stand in front of the tanks, to stop the armies drones
And hurl the tyrant off of his throne.


Killed for free thinking, they say it's illegal;
Emotion will set you free, but were not allowed to feel.
So we must leave Paris and head for America,
The next big thing; the country of the future.


The beast at the door, must be stopped from entering,
The wolf at your tail will make you keep moving.
A time for a pilgrimage and an end to the Empire.
It's time to leave Europe and head to America.


Poetry is expression of thought,
So who are you to tell me I'm wrong?
Every man’s taste is different
And our tastes are not acquirable;
They’re our natural instincts, that are written in our souls.


The great romantics saw life as it should be.
A simpler place where we need not disagree.
Let man speak his mind; let his words become free.
Not silenced under dictatorship; it's not a cardinal sin.


Free thinkers, will lead to your destruction.
They simply won’t follow your every instruction.
The Parisians revolt, because the power has gone to your head;
So they burn down your world and leave you for dead.


Leave France behind, but don't dwell on the past.
Will you sell out?  Or think for yourself?
Write what is in your soul, don't be a cog in the system.
In America they will not sentence you to life in prison,
For writing your thoughts and going against the grain.
The revolution must begin; it is time for a change.


The stench of dead French filled the streets with blood.
Don't let their deaths be worthless; only we can free us.
You imprison yourself by accepting the norm:
The Guillotine, The Executioner, The orders from above.


The French revolution gave writers a voice.
Gave us freedom of speech; gave us freedom of choice.
Gave us freedom of expression and impressionist art.
To revolt is to begin again; to make a new start.


El Liberte, a statue of such a scale.
The light house in the distance; the direction in which to sail.
At last we are free; at last we are home.
Freedom of speech must become the norm.


For you to simply say, Wordsworth is worthless,
Is to simply admit your own ignorance.
To say the encyclopedia is down-right blasphemous,
Is to simply admit your own incompetence.
To execute a writer for saying what he thinks.
To condemn him to death, to execute him;
Is to show how wrong you are
And that a new leader is needed.
The revolutionaries knew the price,
It would take to get our freedom.

But Wordsworth’s 'Mariner' has stood the test of time
And even today, it's still a favorite of mine.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Revolution: Part one.


The first French King sentenced to death,
Must have a new execution invented;
So that this day shall be forever remembered.
The execution of your King, this invention of evil;
This is how he will finally meet his end and go to the Devil.


The man behind the mask, the executioner;
Will lead us to change to a new world order.


A declaration of civil war, to stop the oppression,
Has lead France to say, we must fight to stop the aggression.
We must be revolting and begin the revolution;
To put an end to the executions.


The fall of the guillotine, for a life time spent,
Writing the encyclopedia, which lead to his death.
There is no place for God, in an encyclopedia of Man;
This writing is illegal, you are blasphemous!  *******!
So the time has come, to take your last breath.
Remember when you see the guillotine... don't lose your head.


Until it's chopped off and ends up in the basket;
Another case of basket case madness.
No fiction necessary, for us to live here on Earth;
But this execution, you surely don't deserve.
So the poets leave France, before the revolution;
All of them heading, back to England.


These prison bars to entrap the young.
Taken prisoner for writing a book.
Follow their rules; free thinking is wrong.
The encyclopedia is evidence enough.


Man is born free and grows to imprison himself;
Then he must follow the orders, of somebody else.
Frances revolutionaries, said let it be, let it be;
But the nation is ruled, by the monarchy.


Imprisoned for what they think, the poets and the artists;
But there are no walls, in the prison inside their heads.
Begin the revolution and make us all classless,
Because they’re chained by society,
For the thoughts that they think.


A fight for equality, a modern day philosophy.
Man is born to think for himself; a revolution is on the way.
Liberty!  Liberation for one free state;
A jaded nation must make a change.


Revolution began, after the fall of the blade;
Now the guillotine of power will stop us being slaves.
Preaching revolution, we must free ourselves of these manacles.
Preaching liberation for the masses
And freedom for the individual.


This new guillotine, the machine of death,
Makes the severed head fall into the basket,
As they take your last breath;
But they can't take your words, from the books you have written.
So fight the power!
Revolution!  Revolution!


We must have a revolution, that is televised.
Che Guevara, Malcolm X, me, myself and I.
All of us willing to join the fight;
All of knowing our view is right.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

to ware
the flag
on wrist
of chalice
as law
made changes
there that  
superfluously kind
wouldn't barry  
their origins
to fire
that burned
wings in
gossamer only
to aspire
their new
heights in
pink carnations