"rockers" poems
lines cut heavy
on a button stretched brow
thick rubber shoes
and dragon canes
fill out the closet floor
gospel sounds
and narratives (drowned)
apparitions set sullenly
amid voices from the past
finger pins
and crosswords
find the favor list
point men and preachers
tip up their tuscany caps
twitching and sign gazing
with spectacles held firm
recurring evening news
and beadledom views
clappers and caregivers
raise a crooked foot
grips and rockers
settle in on the front porch
gertrude grimaces
at an untimely turn
as the gooseberry pie
(with a smidgen of cloves)
chills by the night watch
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
Over a cup of morning java
Scanning my daily mail
I came upon an advertisement sheet
*That exclaimed in BOLD rainbow pastel*
Grand opening of a store that has everything
On the corner of Daisy and William Tell
The one thing I saw that interested me
Is they were having a back to "60's" Hippie sale
Of course I stopped what it was I was doing
Hopped in my Lexus and left right away
The excitement had my heart all in a flutter
This I guarantee is going to be a good day
They weren't kidding when they said they sold it all
I'd been wandering the store for quite a while
That's when I came to what it was I had come here for
Before me in trippy little colors, the hippie aisle
So I bought me a couple colorful hippies
With my 25% coupon I was able to save
The Hippies even came with a bonus
Fresh cut flowers and Jefferson Airplane tapes
When I got home I showed them to their room
Black light posters and colored beads hung from the door
As luck would have it I bought an Indian hemp rug
From Pier One just the day before
They taught me transcendental meditation
While I taught them both how to bathe
Their lessons broadened the mind
My lessons the nostrils saved
I soon had a groovy little hippie pad
In which organic vegetables and enlightenment grew
We'd sit around crossed legged in a purple haze at night
Playing psychedelic tunes on our Kazoo's
And I was pretty good too! Who Knew!
Yes, a house of happy hippies
Is a happy hippie house indeed
Especially when Wendy Crystal Sky...Yes, that's her name
Brews her famous dandelion tea
I highly recommend the purchase of hippies
I couldn't be any happier with mine
Sure beats the punk rockers I got on close out last year
But that my friend is another tale for another time...
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 6:48 AM UTC
How many chairs have we parked ourselves on,
side by side
in these 6,205 days of marriage?
Side by side at our wedding reception
principals’ offices
school graduations
courtrooms
funerals
new baby nurseries
counselors’ offices
new cars and
bars.
In lawn chairs
pews
rockers
couches
backseats and
airline seats.
The size and shapes of the imprints
we leave behind
changing over time.
The faces of others seated with us coming and going.
Always, we have tried to leave a trail of love,
like the slime of slugs and snails.
And for each other, an extra measure.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
Rock and Roll and Rolling Rockers
Her eyes shine like wet graffiti paint
slow motion emotion
showing dubious devotions
You own nothing right now
cause you can't handle anything
Teenage mouths babble
Teenage minds travel
in fast cars driven carelessly
words fly by
Doge
Doge
Don't collide
With a mouth a spitting out words
they add up
pile up
till they become their own little world
you don't won't to hear that
or even see
yet all the time you are wondering
where is a little world for me
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Apathy
Don’t tell me how to feel, when I feel like this;
Don’t tell me that you’re happy, when I’m so depressed.
Don’t sit there with your girlfriend, giving her a kiss;
Because I just don’t care, about your life of bliss.
I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy.
So don’t sit there with a smile upon your face.
Don’t dare utter those words:
‘The world is such an amazing place.’
Because I live in the rain and I feel like ****
The sun never shines down on Apathy.
So I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy.
If you feel the same as me;
Or you live in a town like Apathy.
A town of losers; a town of ****
Then come with me down to Apathy.
Let’s take it over and change a few things.
Let’s welcome only rockers and eject all the trendies.
Let’s all sit down and smoke a spliff.
Let’s drink tequila and rock a few riffs.
I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town, called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The ****** little town called Apathy…
Yeah, I live in a town called Apathy,
And it has become like home to me,
For I never want to live outside Apathy,
Because I only care about, the cool people and me.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
The year
1966.
Manson was on his spree
Hippies chilled the breeze.
Chicks dancing with rubies on hips.
Then came 1967
Hendrix wowed the crowd
Janis Joplins soul came out
Music splashed
Hallucinogenic heaven.
1968, patterns of clothing
Seemed to be from faraway.
It wasn't American to the main stream
Still wouldn't be today.
1969, Woodstock, the time
Of all togetherness, and weightless
Rockers heads filled with dust and buds.
Cities broke to riots
Gangbanging quiets over colors lust!
1970, met grandmammy
Touched the farmers scene.
Found the happy
In the sixties baby in me.
Today, now a mountain boy
On a machine that cuts down anything
In its way.
The farming hand
Making a living off of dirt and hay.
Spit and clay.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
I talk about my struggles with her Sister
While she bounces lemonade in a jug The old fashion-way
And serves me some in a champagne Glass
She hangs her clothes on department Store racks
With Picasso leaning on a wall
She doesn't have a phone
And neither does her boyfriend
They never met on one
But she uses one to call me on a Friday Night when I'm
Alone
We drive downtown to Wazee's with Two punk rockers
They order a pitcher of beer
And tell us they'll be back in a few - A few is a long concept to them
We pay the tab
And walk up 15th street to Colfax to Grant
Where she decides to see her boyfriend
She says she'll buy a ball so we can Shoot some hoop
Jazz on Jeanie, Jazz on!
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 4:57 PM UTC
His face was all
Angles
Tall handsome
Mysterious
The tight jeans
Fitted t-shirts
The original
Punk
Traveled through time
Mingling with
Hippies
Environmentalists
Hard rockers
Metal heads and
Monks
Who stopped traveling
Today
To be labeled
Hipster
And watch as history
Was made around him
And to change lives
And make history
Himself
The hippie punk rock hipster
time traveler
who's now only
moving forward
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
Grandmothers buy flowers while their husbands
lick a cone
chocolate-vanilla swirl.
Homeless rockers keep their front
drinking beers around the statue
when all they really want
is an ice cold
strawberry treat.
Replace cafes with parlors
perfecting soft serve service, pouring
fountains of custard
to children of all ages and size.
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
Tearing up I-75 like bats outta Hell
The radio jacked up to MAX
to be heard to the roaring of the wind,
Seeing as the top is off of the jeep
Zeppelin and The Who
Van Fleet and The White Stipes
Generations of rock
Shared by the elder and the young
Different problems faced
Yet shared circumstances
The pace is rapidly set
Like invaders they ride
Or gunslinger of the old west
Buying into the legends of their own immortality
Like a final ride before closing that part of the past for good
Even some of that Seattle sound trickles in
A much younger and angrier Pearl Jam
Sometimes even the garage rock get a turn in the spotlight
Their pace exponentionally increases like a runaway train
It's end destined to be in a glorious and terrible wreck
The road trip is on
These rockers of all ages are on the warpath to a good time
God help us all
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
Peace? and to all the world? sure, One
And He the Prince of Peace, hath none.
He travels to be born, and then
Is born to travel more again.
Poor Galilee! thou canst not be
The place for His nativity.
His restless mother’s called away,
And not delivered till she pay.
A tax? ’tis so still! we can see
The church thrive in her misery;
And like her Head at Bethlem, rise
When she, oppressed with troubles, lies.
Rise? should all fall, we cannot be
In more extremities than He.
Great Type of passions! come what will,
Thy grief exceeds all copies still.
Thou cam’st from heaven to earth, that we
Might go from earth to heaven with Thee.
And though Thou foundest no welcome here,
Thou didst provide us mansions there.
A stable was Thy court, and when
Men turned to beasts, beasts would be men.
They were Thy courtiers, others none;
And their poor manger was Thy throne.
No swaddling silks Thy limbs did fold,
Though Thou couldst turn Thy rays to gold.
No rockers waited on Thy birth,
No cradles stirred, nor songs of mirth;
But her chaste lap and sacred breast
Which lodged Thee first did give Thee rest.
But stay: what light is that doth stream,
And drop here in a gilded beam?
It is Thy star runs page, and brings
Thy tributary Eastern kings.
Lord! grant some light to us, that we
May with them find the way to Thee.
Behold what mists eclipse the day:
How dark it is! shed down one ray
To guide us out of this sad night,
And say once more, “Let there be light.”
2.2k
Over a cup of morning java
Scanning my daily mail
I came upon an advertisement sheet
That exclaimed in BOLD rainbow pastel
Grand opening of a store that has everything
On the corner of Daisy and William Tell
The one thing I saw that interested me
Is they were having a back to "60's" Hippie sale
Of course I stopped what it was I was doing
Hopped in my Lexus and left right away
The excitement had my heart all in a flutter
This I guarantee is going to be a good day
They weren't kidding when they said they sold it all
I'd been wandering the store for quite a while
That's when I came to what it was I had come here for
Before me in trippy little colors, the hippie aisle
So I bought me a couple colorful hippies
With my 25% coupon I was able to save
The Hippies even came with a bonus
Fresh cut flowers and Jefferson Airplane tapes
When I got home I showed them to their room
Black light posters and colored beads hung from the door
As luck would have it I bought an Indian hemp rug
From Pier One just the day before
They taught me transcendental meditation
While I taught them both how to bathe
Their lessons broadened the mind
My lessons the nostrils saved
I soon had a groovy little hippie pad
In which organic vegetables and enlightenment grew
We'd sit around crossed legged in a purple haze at night
Playing psychedelic tunes on our Kazoo's
And I was pretty good too! Who Knew!
Yes, a house of happy hippies
Is a happy hippie house indeed
Especially when Wendy Crystal Sky...Yes, that's her name
Brews her famous dandelion tea
I highly recommend the purchase of hippies
I couldn't be any happier with mine
Sure beats the punk rockers I got on close out last year
But that my friend is another tale for another time...
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
I don't have a problem with
hipsters, goths, jocks,
skaters, rockers, preps,
farmers, plumbers, executives,
Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, Caucasians,
gays, furries, bronies,
foodies, junkies, abstainers,
republicans, democrats,
atheists, monotheists, polytheists,
etc.
People are people.
So, why begrudge them that?
I do, however, have a problem with mean, hateful people
who's greatest joy comes in a form of shadenfreude.
Be who you are,
but don't impose your self-image onto others;
impose others onto your Self with a healthy dose of salt.
You may learn a thing or two.
Live and let live.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
Got to string out the guitar backstage
With Ben bridwell from the Band of Horses,
Drank a beer with J. Tillman of the Fleet Foxes
With Colin Richey I had a glass of wine
And me and my band for one hour shined.
I rocked with known rockers
Follower groupies,
Not to mention or did I?
With my second string player
I smoked a magnificent doobie.
What a week it's been
Three more days
Then coming back home.
A getaway to remember
A getaway well known.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
The Bad News Bears
may bring a
flash flood
tear storm ,
to the
beach-rockers
by the bay.
But that won't stop them.
They're
just.
stuck in the mud.
Cause some people
had
to
spill their problems
on your
calm beach.
The world is
a
cynical/circular/cycle.
But time doesn't exist.
You'll always be here.
In the web
or out the cocoon.
So smoke a joint
and
check your weave.
Youz actin' a lil'
cray-cray,
Bay-Bay.
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
How full of animation he was
when he talked about his hopes for the future
Blood brothers like "Teddy" & "Stray Cat";
Street rockers in the night, dancing for tomorrow
How right as rain that unique freaks should
Be too classic; Like **** Floyd"** with their
Hysteric glamour
How he kept the times exciting, (wild dancers)
And the information fresh (delivery staff)
Combined like graffiti, it said
Affected rocker rabbit rules the world
Made in his own image (take it easy, naysayers)
He's got it under control
How fast they ambush members only
With a speed to exceed mach
Let's enjoy their technical tennis,
Unique cheerful events like these are
What's to come
A baby winks at him, that's how he's sure
(And he writes)
Rude beats for the creatures of the night
Like how their young minds lead a
Casual amenity life
For all the heart broken kids and lovers
A global excitement (try it you'll like it)
Doing back flips to the sock hop
He made such an interesting excuse about
Why we was late
(Only experts) mix the drinks and shine the knives
So a person created; "Artificialman"
Will save his soul,
Please don't cry, the night dew
And wet sneakers are quite enough for now
Plus the plans for the future,
The Midnight Move
Feeling the darkness and never forgetting
The joy of singing together
How full of animation he was
When he sang of his exclusive adventures
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
I'm not a fan of sailing Optis.
But right now, we're just sitting under a grey sky
with no wind to blow life into
the sagging sails.
I glance across the boat, right into the
accusing eyes of Myself.
She has her arms crossed and so do I.
We're the same person, thinking the same thoughts.
I stare into my green grey hazel eyes,
which are cold and hard like concrete before snowfall.
"What?" she asks, her sharp words like knives, piercing me.
I look down and say,
"You know what."
"Yeah, I ******* know." I look up again, to see her eyes flash pale green grey, the color
of the water we rest on.
"What's your problem?" I yell at her. It's not really a question. My nose tingles, as it always
does when I get upset. I see her tug at her nose, too.
She answers quietly. "You're my problem."
"How can I be your problem when I'm you and you're me? We're obviously stuck, Gen."
She lowers her eyes, and pulls at her eyebrow. I do the same.
We're creatures of habit, she and I, I and she.
Me, myself and I.
I, myself and me.
She shakes her head. "I don't know what to do."
"Neither do I. Obviously."
Then suddenly, we look up at each other, a new light peeking behind our irises and dripping onto our cheekbones.
We both stand up, the boat still completely motionless.
"You know we can't swim," I mutter, looking into the murk.
"Doesn't matter."
She looks at me, and I at her. Something in her eyes tells me that it'll be okay.
Maybe.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 1:20 PM UTC
You prevent me moving on
You limit my horizons
You cheapen my achievements
And you delete me based on age
You are the judge and powerbroker
Little that qualifies you for this
And your prejudices and abilities gap
Run riot over my ambition
When you are from within
And not an agent for
My background scares you
And threatens your own standing
No perfect world
No meritocracy
No boat rockers
Just the usual suspects
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 5:36 PM UTC
*Politics have no place on this wood porch ... This veranda
was made for welcome , red hued Dawns and indigo Dusk ..
For watching the colors of a Georgia Fall , for counting Red Winged
Blackbirds , listening to the chatter of ground squirrels ...
This old stoop is for lively conversation , for the sound of the Grand Ole
Oprey on Saturday nights , making strawberry ice cream and bragging
about my tomato plants ...
Singing babies and grand babies to sleep , for reading good books with hot tea ... For anyone to sit a spell and "Chew the fat with .."
For any man to rest awhile and be at ease , for being in love and shootin'
the breeze* ....
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
Your life was created
you deserve to be celebrated
Each soul is living heaven and hell
this makes many stories to tell
The wise man lives life simply
the ignorant can't even be fitting
they're so about possession
this world needs recreations
The legend gives life form
coming straight out of the dorms,
with a poetic soul to give emotion
and a rockers heart to devotion.
the man is like a shaman
yelling on stage yeah man!
with the smell of marijuana in the air
there is no time to spare,
Give in to the alternate reality
where its nothing but being happy
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
The other night I snuck into the Grammys
It really wasn't that hard you see
I was dressed as the Daft Punk dude on the left
My own mother wouldn't have recognize me
I was on the elevator at the Ritz-Carlton
When one of those robots stepped in by himself
So I knocked him out then tied him up
And left him bundled up in the stair well
I put on the suit and the helmet
It's not hard to fake a french accent in those
The only problem I encountered that evening
Was the strong desire to scratch my nose
You know I was the life of the party
Mingling with all of the stars
For awhile I sat in the row with Shawn and Yoko
Still don't know which ones from Venus and which ones from Mars
I'm sure in the circles that those two hang with
They are as normal as all of the rest
Of course most of the rockers I met that night
Put normality to the test
I was a little nervous about preforming
But I just put my boogie shoes on
The only one there who would notice my radical rhythm
Was Stevie and he couldn't see what was going on
When we went up to accept our award
I waved and mumbled under my breath
I must of made it sound mighty profound
As the crowd all clapped and nodded their heads
I really had the best of times that night
Partying like it was 1999
Prince wasn't there but who really cares
When your behind Beyonce in the Mambo line
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
The Soho lights
Were shining like an electric lobster
I was thinking what an Edmonton boy
Should do-
As punk rockers smoked marihuana
In small corners
Shadows danced a routine that was choreographed
In hell-
And glue, speed and alcohol blended into humidity
Eerybody knew God had no recognition
For this recondite humanity
I thought about something else............
Life became static blind
Drunken dreads were jostling in plastic conversation
****** out of their minds-
There became a powerful flow of left-wing
Political notion-
The stale scent of a previous saviour
Became more obvious and universal
Reggae pounded into the trashed idealism
Like an anti-septic commercial
And thoughts of EXODUS and the bible
We became victims of a faith reversal
But there will will be cold solace in this
For the gloved left fist.
I thought of distant times
Where reality wiped out role models
As their dreams vanished into hallocinogenic fungi.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
I don't wear black clothing (when I do)
because I think it'll make me fit in with 'cool' people,
I wear black because I like it.
I enjoy it. I think it's rad.
I don't wear black nail polish on my fingers and toes
because I think it's 'cool,' or that I want others to think so,
I put it on because I like the way it looks.
I like the chipping that happens;
I feel it's a microcosm of Time, itself.
Nail polish exemplifies Wabi and Sabi.
Besides, I have quite the affinity for black.
I don't wear black eyeliner (when I do)
because I think it makes me so metal,
or because I think I need makeup to look good,
I wear it because I enjoy the theatrics
and I like the way it makes me feel.
I don't have the style I do
because I want to associate with
Goths, Rockers, Steampunks or Metalheads;
I have the style I do
because I genuinely like the way it looks.
It just so happens that I get those labels
because people like to put people in boxes.
I don't do what I do
because I want others to notice and like me for it, if anything,
many others will simply mock and make fun of me for it,
but, ironically, much of that spite and disdain
merely fuels my relished rejection
of modern cultural normality and gender roles.
In times of identity crisis, how weird is it to self-identify?
I do what I do
because I like to do it,
because it makes me happy;
because everything is a way to express yourself,
if you only allow it to be such a medium,
if only you find things to use as such mediums.
I see it as Art for the body,
somewhat poetic and transient;
make of it what you will.
It's truly too bad
everyone misconstrues expression
based on their own psychology,
even me. I do it too, though I try not to:
I am not exempt from my own critiques;
I am, in fact, my closest frame of reference.
At the end of the day, though,
you just have to do what you like,
for people and words shall fade
but it is what you have within that stays.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC