They say a picture is worth a thousand words
And the horse with the broken leg
Is lamentably doomed to the stable.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words
But a picture is still worth not enough
To put any more food on my table.

Dance wit meh naked..
Could I share my inner fragility,
show just how fragile I can be
If you were rich and I poor. would you embrace me at your door.
Would you abandon my empty.
Hold back your sympathy
Be blind to the goods I bring.
Would you, could you, dance wit meh naked.
                                                          ­                          wrapped in,
                                                             ­                            empathy.
                                                        ­                      the state I'm in is a basket of the complicated.
                                                    ­                       my hands appear naked.
Can I hear your music..Will you lend me a cup of stability.
twirl me around in your confidences.. allow me a cup of comfortability.
Parts of me come wrapped in simplicity. Adorned with gifts of invisible charms.
Chased your way by outside storms.
                                                         ­ Oh would You my Dear One..
Be able to take it.
The fact that I appear naked.
                                       Could you still..In fact will you still...
                                                        ­                                                      Dance with me N.A.K.E.D!
N ecessity
A cceptable
k eepable
E ndurable
D iamond .................................................................­.............in the rough.
And know theirs flaws in the both of...u.s
S.A.M 3-18

Farm life.


There is a barn on this farm;
Personally, I think that it has character and charm.
Other people’s opinions may differ from mine,
But I won't allow them to waste my good time.


This time is mine to waste away,
So who are you to blemish this beautiful day?  
Song birds sing as morning breaks in two;
Split the night apart and let the sunlight shine through.


If time is all we have, then we can be poor and in love.
We may not have any money,
But we can still enjoy the country.


The cows are grazing and the farmer is blazing,
The hay in the fields, he no longer needs to ball.
I ask him why he came here
And he tells me it is because he heard the call.
The call of nature; the sheep are saying baa.
He doesn't predict the future, but we both know that one day,
This place of tranquility will be overtaken by a city full of cars.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Who tries to share,
Or help the weaker ones,
Who cares to look,
Or think of anyone.

Cry, the weaker ones,
Cry, the poor ones,
There is no one here,
To give any funds.

You starve for food,
You starve for water,
There is no one here,
To donate for any father.

Cry, the empty stomach,
Cry, a little harder,
There is no one here,
No one to bother.

I suggest you to sleep,
A deeper and more,
There is no one to awake,
Or look after your soul.

I won't stop,
I won't try,
Cry till the time,
The time till you die.

Imagine you've been tortured,
ridiculed, hated by the masses.
As you bleed to death on top of a hill,
another tortured soul asks you
for forgiveness for his sins.
The man did nothing to you,
but he feels the need to confess.
Writhing in pain, you want to die,
if only to end your own torment.
But instead, you listen to the man,
and you grant him your truest love, forgiveness.
You tell him he will soon be in paradise
with you, and you ******* mean it.
That's why some of us have faith
and we fight for the poor,
the marginalized, the despised.
They can **** us, as they so often do,
but they will never win.

To become poor
be miserable.
Chuck your shoes
into the ocean and feel
the sand in your toes.

Throw your last few sapphires
rings and ruby necklaces into
the murky green water and let them drift
away from your mind so someone
else can find them.

Give all your money to a charity
any charity
And just like that,
walk away.

Live in the streets
where rats are the size of racquetballs,
the flies are your leaders to food.
Thrive in a cardboard box that’s taped up
And covered by a tarp.

Listen to the croaks and groans
of your cardboard box as it snows
simply because you have nothing else but cold

Do this and I'll guarantee that you'll be poor.
I'll guarantee that you'll stink in writhing wrinkling clothing
and if you ever happen to be loaded again
extend your hand whether real or monetary
to those you friended in the ally. Show them
that you have the curse that gives hope.

The cawing crow,
Object of strife,
Does have its place
Here in this life.
Its hue is dark
Its numbers rife.
It sounds of caw
And not a fife.
To the farmer
And to his wife,
The crow is but
A fowl most trife.