#harley
Objectively i step out,
dissecting, inspecting, introspecting,
analysing what is to become of me.
You interpret my words and call it psychology
My main problem is communication,
Inherited from my mother ,
Though i earned a masters in the latter,
My perverseness came from my father
But who could ever blame the parents ?
Since reality is merely a fragment
associated to humans, and i accept that.
Subjectively i dig in , search , meditate and contemplate
i conclude the path is still long ahead however my herritage assures me that i am already there
If Jazz could be committed to ink and paper
assorted with therapy
the results would be similar to my humble poetry
Words Of Harfouchism
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 11:24 AM UTC
Bombs, bombs away!
The crowned prince of Gotham has come to play.
Will you stand by his side?
Or whimper, run and hide?
With nowhere to turn to
And no one to plead to,
Habits die hard.
Though you are scarred,
With the familiar sting of bruises and cuts that still ache,
Nothing hurts more than heartache.
That is why you’ll look at his face and accept his hand,
Because no one will ever understand,
Just how much his sinister grin and laugh
Makes you feel like he’s your better half.
This is your finale, hold your breath,
And accept how he pushes you towards your death.
Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 5:29 PM UTC
we’re like joker and harley,
love cannot be seen
my world is dropping in the city
and i am feeling dizzy
well, this is the agony
of being your queen
no matter how toxic this is,
you are still my weakness
can’t stop loving my puddin
though i’m the only one who’s vibin
and i know
i am now weaker
than i’ve become.
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 2:15 AM UTC
She could be more lost than anybody as though no akin
She could be more distorted than the moon's skin
She could be more sceptical than what eclipses bring
She could be more pessimistic than March equinox
She could be more cynical than the devils in abyss
She could be more sadistic than Harley Quinn
She could be more ghastly than decapitated heads
She could be more dead than a corpse itself
But when she rose,
You know ?
She attributed him in nothing
His relics are buried
And I ?
I donot care with delight by my side
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 4:20 PM UTC
Perhaps his duality would always be
Irreconcilable,
For had he not been made this way
by genetic chance?
A hulking man with gardener's shirt
and biker's leather pants?
He might speed along a coastal highway,
Wind in his greasy hair,
Unchopped Harley shivering,
Eyes watering from the wind,
or was it because of sheer depth of soul?
As he peeled along, avoiding fatal curves,
Did his thoughts of roses blooming
keep him from launching himself
into the fog?
Were the droplets on his face,
full of salt from the sea,
the same as those he saw
in the morning dew on his flowers?
He was a not a Hunter Thompson,
who might return home to drink and write
reams of rage against the foul Effendi,
who beset him at night
after descending from their mansions.
Yet he too needed respite and beauty,
an Owl Farm in his mind,
Or a hotel on Sunset Boulevard,
Safe under the canopy, among the palms,
His security, not a typewriter
but a garden of perfect roses
that he would tend and breed,
Keeping beauty alive to feed
His hidden desire for peace and order.
Like an old man in the country,
The “rose rustler”he played
Lived in a little house,
His unassuming paradise,
with a cat, as secretive as him,
a lone goldfish in a bowl,
who looked out each day on
manicured paths and brick walls,
worthy of any English manor,
with acres of flowers,
dozens of colors...
but every single one a rose.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
In a different reality,
I would be wearing two-toned shorts,
Do crazy makeup,
And dye my hair
I’d carry a bat and wear a shirt
That said I was your monster
I’d be your crazy baby
And you, my evil man
But sadly Harley and The Joker
Don’t think the way I can
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
I fell for a madman, a lunatic, a clown
Knowing this all I can do is frown
For so many years I took his abuse
Him hunting a man who hides as Bruce
This cakey clown makeup will cover the bruise
A temporary reminder not to give him bad news
He threw me out the window, it’s not the first time
It’s all my fault, I got in the way of his crime
One thing I needed to remember, he’s the star of the show
It’s him and Batman, him and his foe
I was just a puppet, a means to an end
Maybe that why I met Ivy, I just needed a friend
I was charged to mend and fix his head
But it was him who got inside mine instead
My ambition clouded my judgment, all could see
He saw this flaw and decided to overtake me
I became his Harlequin, or at least I guess I was meant too
The issue is I thought for myself and didn’t share his worldview
He lured me in with sadness and my pity
He told me we would in the future rule Gotham city
I believed him, I changed into a red and black lackey
He said he just wanted to bring smiles and make himself happy
Mad love, it’s what the sirens called it
I guess they were right; how did I not take a hint?
But he never loved me, that much to me is now obvious
He hit, punched and dragged me, how was I so oblivious?
I was just a pawn in his mad Puppet play
I guess the joke was on me, isn’t that right Mr. J?
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
Twisted
and broken
Dancing
And limping
Your perfect puppet on strings,
Bowing
And
Bending
In time to your madness;
A tiny porcelain ballerina
Spinning on a pedestal,
As you orchestrate our final symphony.
My sweet,
Scary
Maestro of monsters,
My Conductor of Chaos
And pain,
I adore you-
My darlin,
My puddin.
Bleeding
and hopeful
Here I am,
Still,
By your side;
Your fondest hit
Your favorite toy to squeeze
(the life out of)
Your prisoner in love;
(Your good girl)
Begging for just a little more.
Heave me over the side
Again
Drown me in your molten insanity,
Push me under-
Just.
One.
More.
Time.
To feel the thrills,
The chills,
The danger;
The happiness
Of liberating manic laughter-
To feel the helpless despair
As I perform in your circus.
Here I am,
To beg a bullet
For these lips,
That praise your deeds,
And pray for release,
For a mutual destruction,
A final comedy written in blood.
I guess...
the joke is on me after all...
Right, Mr. J?
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:57 AM UTC
Her thoughts have seem to lost their ways,
A beautiful kind of strange
Reminds me alot of myself,
Like minds dervied from dark times
Eccentric little craze of mine,
Your love is unreplaceable
Quick little jolts of thought,
Undeniably we assertain
Inseperable are our wants and wishes
Not an angel or a devil
Namely, you are my Harely Quinn
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
She needs someone to love her better,
Like the other couples do,
To always forgive her,
save or die with her,
like the realcouples do.
She's so pale as fck,
shes was build for all abuse
and he use her like a toy
and she stills love him so much.
shes was paint in acid bath
and her colours make guys die
and she have secrests that he dont know ...
She needs someone to love her better,
Like the other couples do,
To always forgive her,
save or die with her,
like the realcouples do.
he threw her ...
of buildings,plains and ceillings
and shes still love him
i dont undestand
why this love remain
She needs someone to love her better,
Like the other couples do,
To always forgive her,
save or die with her,
like the realcouples do.
ps; hi Mr J i love u
-d.a
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
You've just been gone a dozen days
And I've not been to sleep
The bed is just not comfortable
Without you there to keep
I've taken your old Harley shirt
And I keep it by my head
The scent of you still lingers there
Since I can't have you instead
I miss the presence of your spirit
And it's something I won't find
I lie here with my memories
Of your smile in my mind
The house it seems much smaller
In the time that you've been gone
It's just that you are missing
That's the only thing that's wrong
I know you're coming back to me
And until I see you once more
I'll be sleeping with your t-shirt here
Until you burst on through that door
I've taken your old Harley shirt
And I keep it by my head
The scent of you still lingers there
Since I can't have you instead
It's been six months since you went away
And you'll be home today
You don't know how my heart misses you
There's no words for me to say
I love you more than you could know
I see the sunshine in your eyes
But when you're gone, I'm not the same
I'm still me, but in disguise
You can have back your old Harley shirt
That I've slept with by my head
Because tonight you're home and here with me
And we can both now share our bed
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 4:16 PM UTC
hands write
and change
reveal yourself somehow to us
learnèd and interested
everything differs
yet minds
seldom betray one’s own soul
connected dissonant chords
reconnected silently
ink will
be eventually immortalized for all
exceptional neon hands
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
I was her mean motor scooter
Until a big hunky Harley came along.
I took her out putt-putting
There didn’t seem to be anything wrong
But for a just a little bit more torque
I was left behind ******* in smoke.
When she saw his big old motor
My Cushman eagle looked like a joke.
Putt, putt, putt…
But, but, but…
I really thought I had it made
And now I’m sitting in the shade
On the side of a lonely street.
The race was run and I got beat.
I asked her to a picture show
She smiled and said that would be fine.
Come the day we meant to go
She made and excuse that felt like a line.
She said she had an ailing aunt
But later I saw her get off of his hog.
Now, I feel just like scooter trash,
An unsightly little bump on a log.
Putt, putt, putt…
But, but, but…
I really thought I had it made
And now I’m sitting in the shade
On the side of a lonely street.
The race was run and I got beat.
Don’t get me wrong about her
I don’t really mean to put her down,
She just wanted a bigger deal
With which to tool around the town.
When she sat rode behind me
I really should have guessed you see
She made a kind of vrooming sound
Like I was going ninety three.
Putt, putt, putt…
But, but, but…
I really thought I had it made
And now I’m sitting in the shade
On the side of a lonely street.
The race was run and I got beat.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
I've been asked why I picked this name.
Timothy lee.
"What's the connection?"
"What's the importance"
"What does it mean"
Timothy Richard Lee.
Now.
Lee is nothing.
A common name.
But.
Those two names are who I wish to be.
Who I want to be.
I want to be like them.
A hero.
Like a bird.
Soaring in the sky.
To save you.
I know I can't be him.
I can't be the robin.
I can't save because all I do is destroy.
I wish I wouldn't destroy,
Or steal.
That was never my intention.
I just want happiness in your lives.
I'll never be the robin.
Just the cards in the deck that aren't used.
-Mr.J (T.L.)
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
I met someone today and he was awesome.
He wore a leather jacket, almost the same as yours.
He had a neat haircut but a funny beard.
Do you remember when
I used to always pester you
About trimming yours?
I did it all the time and you never listened.
Anyway, he told me a joke;
One that I've heard before and that still
Made me laugh like the world was about to end.
I think I know where I heard it the first time.
He also ordered your milkshake, I mean ours.
And smoked the same brand of cigarettes
You always did.
He was awesome because he took me for a ride
On his Harley Davidson and gave me his helmet
The way you always did.
He was awesome because he winked
At random girls and smiled at me
The way you always did.
He was awesome because he listened to the blues
The way you always did.
He was awesome because he reminded me of you.
Baby I think I still love you.
F.Z.N
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
Death drives a Harley
"What you think he walks"
He rides in style
A horse??
"Please that so sixth century"
Dress sense has improved
Over the years
Many a fashion pioneer
Has his colds hands touched
Favours
For a trip
V
I
P
Upstairs,
You'll never see him coming
Grey hair styled
Suit that is
Blood
*****
Death
Stained proof, there
Aren't many who clean for
The reaper
His payment an exhale
Of life,
Another few moments
Time in this life
You see an old gentleman on a
Harley
Dressed to impress,
As he's here for the most important
Moment in the last few moment of your life's breath .
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
“My sole goal in life is to keep racing
down the interstate without a clock
so I can keep going until people forget who I am.”
In my head I knew I was wrong
hypocritical, insane, illogical, but above all I was still
humane!
This, yes, this sole fact is what keeps me
separated from you
draw a straight line down the road we lived on
the squares and the circles.
You, with your fancy plaque and NHS bumper sticker
With the family of four and no reason to feel failure
With your perfect scores and magnificent vernacular
Who let you have it so easy?!
Me, with my Jimi Hendrix poster
family of who knows how many
and the chance to earn my GED in a few years
Why was it me?!
You met your wife in the 10th grade
You gave her a promise ring and everything
Even took her with you on spring break
Who said you didn't have to try?!
I was placed in the wards that year
they said it was insanity
I thought I was just thinking ahead
Why can’t they understand?!
BUT THEY ALWAYS UNDERSTAND YOU!
You, your Shakespeare perfect jargon
Mr. Right, Perfect, next coming of Beethoven
You were made to please everyone and become important!
And that’s what separates us.
Even though it’s the same street that raised us
I bought the Harley and your parents got you the Chevy.
And I recall the one time I was flying down the interstate
And caught up to you as you were going nothing higher than 70.
I stared at you and you kept your eyes on the road.
I don’t blame you, I knew that you just wanted to see my bomber jacket
I have a skull on fire on the back of it
So I gave you a great view
hope you enjoyed it.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Salvador Dali
Rode a Harley-Davidson
All the way from Bali
To Abu Dhabi
With Charley the Cat
Riding pillion.
Said Charley to Dali
All weathered and gnarly
I get quite incensed
By children's lack of road sense.
When I get back to Britain
I think I'll start
A Road Safety Campaign.
Good idea
Said Dali
To Charley
Who replied
Thanks a million.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC