Frankenstein‘s Cyborg.



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Heavy Metal Music.


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Frankenstein’s Cyborg.


My robo-tic child,
My favor-ite cyborg, yeah.
My robo-tic child,
I’m the reason you were born.


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God I thought they’d killed me.


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What did you do to me?


If I left, you there,
Where would you be now?  Yeah,
If I’d left, you there,
Tell me where would you be?


If I left, you there,
Where would you be now, yeah,
If I’d left, you there,
Tell me where would you be?


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Move like a robot.


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Work like a robot.


You’re part man, part machine;
You’re the product of our dreams.
We made you work, we made you live,
We kept the faith, we believed;
We were right, we did succeed,
We fulfilled all our dreams.


My robo-tic child,
My favorite cyborg, yeah.
My robo-tic child,
My Heavy Metal son.


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Gonna be a soldier


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It doesn’t matter if I get shot, yeah.


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I’m gonna live forever.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

A sentinel


A sentinel stands motionless, staring out into the distance;
Surveying the horizon in case of a new threat.
He has been there all night and now dawn is breaking.
The light shines in his eyes and lights up the glen.


The flowers are in bloom and all the trees are a radiant green
And still he stands, watching; looking for any kind of enemy.
He can hear his fellow soldiers stirring behind him;
Their hangovers are seeking a remedy.


He wonders if this will be the day they are attacked;
Or will the peace last?
And will reinforcements arrive before the enemy?
Still he stands still, staring into the forest;
Waiting for someone to cross his path.


This war has lasted too long already and no end of war is in sight.
He is just thankful for the peace that lasted…last night.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

He stands there in the trench
bullets flying overhead
shrapnel, shattered, lead poisoning
his chest.

Wounds unmended shine in
moonlight
day shifts into night
bleeding, pleading for the right
to stay alive.

Smell of dread and gunpowder
all around
present corpses replace past comrades
death, guts and dirt, splattered
sinking into the ground.

Yet he stands from the coffin
running like a rampant hound
with fury, glory, and a bang
a shot flew through the back of
his head.

The world's a battlefield
and he ended up on the wrong side
but stood, fought, and died
for what seemed right.

Soldiers are meant to carry
a burden on their shoulders
even if it's a boulder, the world,
or an ideal worth the cost.

And humans are defined by their
battles
even when they're lost.