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Aa Harvey Sep 2018
Rokkstarr


There's no more love for the music,
I've sang since birth about this world.
Sang those love songs in my youth,
Now your love songs make me hurl.


**** Rock 'n' Roll and the bands you think are great!
**** the police and ******* all!
**** all those people that you hate!
**** Radio 1 and **** the world!


Rock 'n' Roll is dead and gone,
Once Rokkstarr meant something great.
Once we sang these songs with passion,
Once we sang these songs with hate!
Now we stand here on stage like wankers!
So let's all sell out to the man.
He gives us money for writing **** songs;
Now moneys all we understand.


Sell out tours and groupie ******.  
Life is great?  No life’s a bore.
Been here before and it was just the same.
Same old thing again and again.
Know what to expect, no more surprise’s;
No more excitement, no meaningful trophies.


It all means nothing, now we've been here so long;
The **** record label wants another song.
Which must be written, within the month;
We have a release date, so we can sell this stuff,
Before Christmas to the kids, because they’re our target audience;
The music that they want, they can get from their parents.
Because their parents know, that they just can't say "No.",
To a kid that wants something, as much as they will.


Rock 'n' Roll is dead and gone,
Once Rokkstarr meant something great.
Once we sang these songs with passion,
Once we sang these songs with hate!
Now we stand here on stage like wankers!
So let's all sell out to the man.
He gives us money for writing **** songs;
Now moneys all we understand.


To be a Rokkstarr, you'd think would be great.
But the songs you once loved, you begin to hate.
You sing them so much, it becomes a habit;
Until one day you say "That's it! I've had it!"


I'm tired of singing these songs;
The words have lost all their meaning.
I need something new, something I can believe in.
I need music to fall in love with, I need lyrics with a real meaning;
But my hope for all that's Rock, is a memory that's slowly fading.


Soon Rock will die and be gone;
Because new Rock bands come and go.
Soon there will no longer be any hype;
About a band you heard on the radio.


Rock 'n' Roll is dead and gone,
Once Rokkstarr meant something great.
Once we sang these songs with passion,
Once we sang these songs with hate!
Now we stand here on stage like wankers!
So let's all sell out to the man.
He gives us money for writing **** songs;
Now moneys all we understand.


You never know though I could be wrong.
Maybe soon I'll hear a song;
That will move me like 'Bohemian Rhapsody' did.
That will make me appreciate new music.


Here's hoping for the future,
For Rock to come back with a vengeance.
Remember your roots in a jam-packed moshpit?  
Remember the mindless violence?
Remember when you saw your girl through the crowd
And fell in love with her there and then?
That’s love for Rock music at its finest
And believe me it will come again.


Rock 'n' Roll's not dead and gone;
Now Rokkstarr means something great!
Now we sing these songs with passion;
Now sing these songs with hate!
Now we stand here on the stage;
After finding our love for Rock!
So let's all softly bang our heads and GET THE **** UP!


(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Emily Aug 2018
I’m in love with the black leather lily
Sequin rose: she was looking so good
That rock’n’roll woman
Singing on a countryside stage
Doused in pink and blue light

I’m once bitten
But twice aggressive
I’m hungry and I’m craving
I don’t have a record
Of either the rock’n’roll
Or cell block persuasions
But I’ll be doing my time
Somewhere soon

Love bites on my neck
Imaginary and sensual
I know what I want
And I know how to get it
But I can’t seem to kick myself off
And there’s no one who clicks
And there’s no one who would meet
My tongue with their tongue
Let alone my voice, with their notes

I’m looking for something
I wouldn’t call it rare
But I’m questioning the scarcity
I want something stimulating
Intellectually and sexually
By the look in your eye
So clueless and vacant
I know that I’m not going to find it
Any time soon

There’s a feeling that I’m chasing
The humming and the strumming
Of a sanctified guitar
And the lips of a poet
Which aren’t mine
It’s electric and eclectic
A bohemian mind
But I’m stuck in suburbia

Lipstick swatches
On the back of my hand
A trio of matte hues
But the one I wear
With a virginal kiss
The colour’s called
Girl next door
But I haven’t been
The girl next door for a while now
I would like to dedicate this poem to the lead singer of the band, The Preatures.
Duncan Brown Aug 2018
Why you got those boots on your feet
Are you the wandering jingle jangler
That heeled high feeling easy dreamer
Lending ears to become the audience
Marking antonyms like Julius Caesar
Trying to rise before the failures fall
Sublimely for the mad beauty of it all
In desperate dreams of the final curtain
Draping the fading drama in the folds
The weatherman never read the script
And left his quill on the top of the hill
When Romeo betrayed Juliet to the fool
Stealing his chance of everlasting fame
Casting shadows before his own naming
Everything in the lies of playing games.
At least that’s why he sold himself again
For *** and drudgery’s rotting role play
Once for the money and twice to show
That charity begins when gambling ends
Throwing dice at the shaming of the true
Believers in the obviously innocent song
That sang itself to deaths other oblivion
Dwelling inside the flickering footlights
Burning soles who tread the dollar less way
To stage their very own beautiful demise
Before a paying and praying audience
There’s no business like the dying business
That’s the dumb an’ smart career move  
As death consumes all; here and ever after
The three ring circus hits the super highway
To heavenly pay days in the after math
That stole the souls of the leading actors
Wasn’t that just the smart career move
To die happily on the wings of disaster
Farewell sweet prince an’ princesses
May flights of angels love your music.
Aa Harvey Jul 2018
Can I join your band?


Would you let me sing a song for you?
Could I come play bass guitar for you?
Would you like me to roll a spliff for you?
Would you like me to play this riff for you?


I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
Could you listen up?  Can you hear me man?


I need to reach up for the stars,
I need to drive a jaguar.
I need to travel near and far
And sing rock ‘n’ roll straight from the heart.


Because I’m a man and you’re the band
And this is what you’re missing friend.
Someone who can make up a song,
Someone who can help you rock the world.


I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
Could you listen up?  Can you hear me man?


Could I join you, up on the stage?
Could I write you a song to sing?
Could I scream with you full of rage?
Could I become a part of your hit record machine?


I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
Could you listen up?  Can you hear me man?


So what do you say?  Can I join the band?
Can I come and play my bass guitar for you man?
Could I help you write the occasional song?
If you like this, then just sing along.


I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
I wanna be part of your rock ‘n’ roll band,
Could you listen up?  Can you hear me man?


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Aa Harvey Jul 2018
The Super Heroes of Rock!


There’s a little person named Gem, with a banjo in his hands;
But he’s too drunk to play.
There’s a guy with one arm and he’s slamming the drums
And I think his name is Dave.
Jenny plays the Bass, with a rash on her face
And she’s going to die today.


The lead guitarist (Jimmy) has no legs,
But he always tries his best.
But his lack of fingers and thumbs,
Is starting to become a pain
And the fact I can’t sing!
Well it doesn’t mean a thing,
Because we’re not even getting paid to play.
No we’re not, getting paid to play.


Because we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we came to save the day.
Yeah we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we came to save the day.


When Kurt decided today was the day
And put a bullet hole in place of his face,
They called the Super Heroes of Rock!
To come and save the day.


And when Black Sabbath crashed the plane
And Axl cancelled the show again.
They called the Super Heroes of Rock!
To come and save the day.


The little person, Gem, he used to sing,
But a girl named Lisa broke his banjo string,
So now he simply comes to our shows
And joins us up on the stage.


He used to be the ladies favorite,
But now he’s lost all of his confidence.
Because he hit the bottle hard
And he hasn’t been the same since.


But we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we’ve come to save the day.
We’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we’ve come to save the day.


And if there’s nothing else I can say,
I guess we’ll just rock the show our way.
Because we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we came to save the day.


And ladies there’s no need to fight;
Just come and form an orderly line.
Then come and be the bands groupies;
With us back stage.


And the fact that I can’t sing!
Well that doesn’t change a thing.
Because we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we do this voluntarily, anyway.


We jump into empty gigs slots,
When a band’s singer has lost the plot.
We’re the rehab missionaries
And we don’t get paid to play.


Because we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we’ve come to save the day.
Yeah we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we came to save the day.


And if our music isn’t your thing;
Well we already know we stink.
But we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we only came to save the day.


Could you give us back Jimmy’s false legs?
He only wanted to try and crowd surf.
Things are already bad enough for him,
What with the leprosy and he’s just lost his girl
And I think Jenny has died,
I can see Dave’s put a drumstick in his eye.


But we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we’ve come to save the day.
Yeah we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we’ve only come to save the day.


Yeah we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And our music will never be stopped.
Because we’re the Super Heroes of Rock!
And we’ve only came to save the day.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Emily May 2018
Television taught me to talk
Now I don't know how to walk
Unless I'm in high heels

Fed a pop culture diet
I don't know why,
But I think you should try it

Cruising around
In a Chevrolet limousine
Flicking through
The pages of a magazine

Silver screen beauty queen
Cult classic with a classic colt
Shooting up in the pictures
Truth and fiction in the lyrical mixtures

Televised script gone viral
High roller girl in an upward spiral
It's a glamorous soundtrack life
With a soulless soundtrack laugh

Television has all the appeal
So now I don't know how to feel
Nothing feels real
Because I don't know
What real is beyond the reel
I recited this poem at a poetry slam the other night... I didn't place and I disagree with who they instated as second and third but, whatever.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAsCxo0N3FI&feature=youtu.be

Like Pink Panther putting on normal panther camouflage,
or a Goth record with a lipstick autograph;
a crow and a flamingo mingling at a birdbath;
or Bret ‘The Hitman’ Hart’s leotard:

pink ‘n’ black is my heart
since we did part, since we did part.
Pink! Coz it feels so raw.
Black! Rotten to the core.
Love is a doubled-edged sword
on which my heart, heart's been gored.

Like a baby born on the bonnet of a hearse,
or anachronistic candyfloss on the teeth of Liz the 1st;
an unturned chipolata, top raw, bottom burnt,
or your girlish mirth when I am at my worst:

pink ‘n’ black is my heart
since we did part, since we did part.
Pink! Coz it feels so raw.
Black! Rotten to the core.
Love is a doubled-edged sword
on which my heart,  heart's been gored.

Like the lungs of a nico-tween puffing past a pack-year;
the highlight in Heathcliff’s hair when Cathy drove him *****;
coconut rolls from liquorice allsorts, but not the black ’n’ yeller.
Or my broken heart so terminally tender.

The two tones of good old-fashioned rock ’n’ roll,
sang Johnny Teardrop on his Les Paul,
or was it a Fender ?
And is blue the true interior of a heart tore asunder?
Emily Apr 2018
116
In lingerie up on stage
It was a different age
Sultry sighs and bad mullets
It was all rock and roll

A teenage cherry bomb
A girl gone wild
Free to run away
Along a yellow brick path

I see it in the stars
Both cosmic and mortal
I feel it in the air
The world is about the shake
And I'm going to be the earthquake

Vintage as an advantage
Retro and grunge,
Shabby chic,
Whatever you call it

Like an angel, Judgement,
Calls the dead
It will be a resurrection
Singing and crooning,
Triumphant trumpets

So grab your guitars
And some mates
It's time to start a band
Chris Neilson Apr 2018
When it's 1984 and your life's a bore
in Maggie's vision of a soulless, selfish Britannia, you do what any self disrespecting angst ridden 17 year old college drop out would do;
you brew home brew from hops and yeast and bits of twigs and dregs of evil smelling unidentified liquid; slosh it in glass bottles with a skull and cross bones then wait, wait and wait to celebrate its maturity with a ticket to the Castle Donington Monsters of Rock Pissfest!

Armed with the festering fruits of my labour in the company of bedenimed festering friends with metal heads and Patchouli oil scents to mask any basic deficiencies of hygiene, it's off to the Middle East....Midlands.

Against the incongruous backdrop of striking miners, record unemployment and my own fortnight giro, the garish Motley Crue were ready to rock my *** down Sunset *****. Yeh baby!!! so relatable with my decadent rock n roll lifestyle in the grim, rain soaked East Manchester dole queues of hopelessness where my coke dealer was Derek with the cola variety.

On to a bone jarring jalopy to get off my **** on the home made grog off "how to do home brew" instructions, now suitably refreshed on a rare English sun baked afternoon and ready to join the throng to view the 'Crue's man thongs over red leather pants so regularly seen in the vaults of inner city Mancunian pubs. My *** robustly rocked then ready to be kicked by our favourite batman..."LETS GET NUTS! IT'S OZZZZY OSBOURNE!!!" ARE YOU READY TO RIDE THE F** CRAZY TRAIN! LET'S GO!

Losing all 5 of my senses I climbed aboard a cohort's shoulders around which hundreds of ***** filled receptacles whizzed and fizzed, caring not a jot as Ozzy implored me to raise my hands and worship at the altar of rock n roll, man...but my worship was interrupted by a direct plastic **** hit to the back of my cranium, exploding its contents into my rarely washed mullet and drenching my Rainbow Rising t-shirt.

What was I to do?

Nothing, baby!

This is rock n roll!
I boarded the Dave Lee Roth fronted Van Halen express and saluted those about to rock AC/DC and...
partied
like
it
was
a
home
brewed
****
soaked
1984!
More recently I'm veering off the page towards the stage, This may work?
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