Dont think about the bad things.

Just stay busy.
Just keep working.
Till you die.
Its hard to stay busy when work is slow
It felt like it was the time to do nothing
Especially after everything that had been done
But even the weather argued with me
Barley giving me any time to celebrate the completion
Before forcing me to start something new
Because there was still so much to do.
early morning coffee jitters
like finding Toblerone wrappers
on the stairwells of diabetics
falling into a  state of falsehood
like I had been bamboozled
from my nobility and left with
waves of emptiness,
sweeping through me
like holding
the keys to a motel room
only to discover
your mistress
was nowhere to be found

this black hole dug deep
in my gut and spread
like parasites
but I was
too young
too lonely
too inexperienced
and unprepared
without the right tools
and know how to fill
the void with good
clean dirt

so, I got into the canoe
and a parliament of owls
were perched upon the
dead trees of past lives
leering at my writhing body
with infalliable eyes
as I paddled blindly
down the rivers of
comas of dissipation
and through the gauntlet
of lecherous immodesty,
vulgarity and plucking
the strings of surrealist

I felt, as if, it were
incumbent of me to become
the scum of the Earth
and no spatula was going
to pick me out of the grout

in Elgin,
I only stopped in
for "a" beer
I didn't know I was
going to end up
living here
for the next
5 years

not in the sense of residency, of course,
but overemphasizing and overwelcoming
my stay on the playgrounds of inebriated
controversy filled with passion and crass

luckily for me
adolescence was a gift
a gift ill-treated
by yours truly

the gift of agility to remain conscious
for days, even years without sleep and
somehow surviving on malnourishment
of gas station hot dogs
with a mammoth consumption of alcohol
that gnawed away at my insides

and it doesn’t even phase me

as I peddled bikes down the streets
of rotten luck and drank 40's
to evade present memories
and waste away the day

by night,
I sat at bar stools with
the other troglodytes
and across from flirtatious
bartenders and those mirrors
of mortification constantly
reminding me

taking shot for shot
and continuously refilling
their empty dog dishes
I was drawn to
their endurance,
their ability
to keep me
drunk from the time
I got off from work
until I had to go back
the next day

making the rounds
through a plethora
of neon beer signs
from dive bar to dive bar
like hobos hopping trains
watching the good girls
give everything
to the bad boys
who deserve nothing
but as long as I was
left alone and
gilded with suds,
golden and frothy,
that was something
to me

bedded down in sheets alongside
a revolving door of
career women
with predatory faces
that took advantage of
my incoherence and haunted
those bleak and hazy mornings
filled with meaningless copulations
that I tossed aside like an
apple core

I felt sick,
not from the hangover
but from the unsightly
grotesque that lay
beside me

so I waited...

I waited for them to
leave the room so
I could follow my clothes
that I had just thrown
out the window

I’ve worked the factories
I’ve worked the plants
never bothering to remember
the names because the
expendable faces were
always changing and the
outcomes were always the same

a one way shot down the road
of sleep deprivation and the
filaments of my soul were
ruptured into depletion
I felt robbed
I felt violated
     and again
              and again

and no wonder I couldn’t
dance and produce
like they wanted me to

but rather hastily,
the candle burnt down
as the years passed and
those profligate years
in my childhood town
came to a grinding halt
like a stick shoved in the
spokes of a bike tire
and dissolved like
blood tablets as it
relaxed it’s languorous
head down in the
impenetrable darkness
and started to decay
in putrefaction

it was finally time for me to return home

but there was no rutted road
for me to take.
A four year bender that I survived somehow and made me realize I need to take control of my life.
On my first day of school
I wept tears of trauma
on my last day of school
I cried tears of joy
11 years had passed

On my first day of college
I made no new friends
on my last day of college
I had no friends
4 months had passed

On my first day of full time  work
I feared my boss
on my last day of full time work
my boss feared me
37 years had passed

On my first day of meeting my future wife
I didn't know what love was
in the present day with my wife
I know what love is
30 years have passed
Time flies!
Jack P 7d
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.
Aa Harvey Apr 14

Silver tears fall from robot eyes;
The hole for a heart has broken wires.
The love we used to feel?  I have removed those files.
Robotic people lead robotic lives.

Delete memories to give us more memory space;
The undistinguished face is factory made.
Modelled in clay; repeat again.
Another body, with another face; we are all the same.

Robotic people live robotic lives.
Work for the master for nickels and dimes.
Programmed to function, incapable of lying;
Programmed to self-destruct at the end of our time.

Watching people go by, living ordinary lives;
They are not the robot I see in the reflection
And they seem to be doing just fine.
Dreams of former lives never remembered in this mind;
I am robotic, but I pay it no mind.

Heartless and constant, I am becoming less than I should;
Infected files corrupt us from the inside,
When we were only trying to feel good.
Love is just data, magic does not exist; it is just a pretense.
The formula to the equation of my very own existence.

The failure of a maker who brought me into this world;
I am strong on the outside, but inside I am fetal.
Empty of emotion, now I have lived this life;
I see ordinary people living exotic lives,
But I am a robotic being and I cannot experience a true smile.

Nothing behind the eyes to show a real emotion;
I am just a robotic person; I am just in need of a function.
I am lost without romance in this web of confusion;
Robotic people lead robotic lives and I am living in slow motion.

(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
april w Apr 13
It’s not easy to be strong
It’s easy to be weak
But we all want to be strong
And we all want easy

So which do we choose?

To work hard
Train hard
Choose hard


To be easy
Do easy
Choose easy

There’s no in between

what is a draft
other than a rare view
into the mind of a poet

all the emotion and rage
sadness and pain
is all laid bare
all on that page

but sometimes
you try to write
and there's nothing at all

so you try
and you think
but your spirits do fall

with so much to say
yet so much to do
i find i'd much rather
be somewhere with you

i'm thinking of words
to say what i wish
but they fly away
like birds

it's hard to think
and even harder
to turn my words
into ink
They look just like gophers, popping out of holes
my co-workers, and neighbors, burrowed in like moles

The offices align the walls, where management abounds
pontificating from the pulpit, polishing their crowns

No longer there I dwell, my escape a thing of myth
a place to not return again, somewhere I'll never miss

The easy employee logic, that management confounds
reads like a Dilbert moment, so quiet, and yet so damn profound
One more from the vault

It's managements job too think they know what they are doing, and the actual worker's job, to get er done. :D~
I should probably do some work tonight -
Get ahead of the game; start the week out right....

But I’d rather watch ‘The Walking Dead’
And drink this glass of wine instead!
Not super clever but true!  I was ready to tap out on the poem a day thing but this came to me..so here it is :)
Next page