a lightning struck
bending my elastic brain
words trying to escape my thick confined skin
dripping a story of an orchid around a pale pink swirl
as every line, every rhyme grew through my bones

took a break that I shouldn't have to take
to loosen myself in the ***** room
so were my thoughts loosen down the whirlpool  

came back to a dried up nib
to a smoked up lightning in the air
to an unchargeable cloud over my hair
alas, was left with a piece of paper
staring right back at me
with an empty verse

Bright light city


Bright light city, shining in the distance;
Bright light city girl, shining in the dark.
My landing light beacon, you give me a reason;
Now I understand just what you could be and what you are.


You are made of crystal,
Illuminate my heart.
Show me the way to go forward,
To find a new way to love your art.


In a world of black holes that swallow our souls,
You have become my guiding light.
I read your thoughts to know what you know
And inside your heart I find a love I have needed my whole life.


You lit up the sky with a blinding light
And I finally looked up and noticed you and forgot about dying.
My misery has gone now I have your love,
So go write your book and I will be here if you need a hug.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

A writer’s core is pain and fears. This is what they release with every pencil [keyboard] stroke. It’s a healing process which allows them to see the light. The reason why writers share this healing process is because they simultaneously heal others who are internally at war. And, that is a writer’s responsibility—to heal the world.

Drunk
left me
in a bed
shared
with the bottle
blacked out
from all
the moments
that did not
make it to
memories

Influence is the power you have over others
Brothers fighting over the bigger crumb
Dumb to what they and their sister's have become
Won by skin tones and education
Legislation driven by religion
Forgiven by a being we've never met
Regret nothing, so we do it again

Friends burn bridges for this power
Liars sell visions for this power
Poppers give their lives for this power
This is why I despise this power

We all sin
So we all can't win
But if the game was rigged to begin
What do we ever, really win?

When you look at the page,.
and there are no words.
Your mind is spinning.
It only disturbs.

Searching and searching
you spend a lot of time..
Your mind is wandering
for that perfect rhyme.

Sometimes it takes a while
and it stresses you out.
You have a gift for poetry
so no need to pout.