Life Coalesced
Envision the rest
Depressed or distressed
Worried less, I invest
May regress or finesse
Life's congruent mess

Mold your self, immaculate
Clear hate and evoke fate
Inspire, create and congratulate

Persevere when near,
Whilst you conquer fear
Happiness untamed
Dreams unattained
Mature and grow wise
In front of your eyes

In the recesses of my intellect
I possess all the changing seasons
The fallen leaves
Yesterdays memories
The gold mine of ignorance and naivety
The idea that out there in the expanse exists a far off potential
A potential I could grasp
A potential that was attainable despite the perils of my upbringing  
The fragility of those days gone by
Have become myths and stories in my own mind
Held together with the weary tape of an abused mentality
Due to the inertia and desire to remember how life was...

I'm mesmerized by what happened to the potentiality of our lives
And how it became comprised by complacency
Lazily dreamers egos age like worn clothes
Enclosed with institutionalized ethos where growth begins and ends with the inerrancy and arrogance of the ghetto

OUR motion on the soft still misty river
Is like rest; and like the hours of doom
That rise and follow one another ever,
Ghosts of sleeping battle-cruisers loom
And languish quickly in the liquid gloom.

From watching them your eyes in tears are gleaming,
And your heart is still; and like a sound
In silence is your stillness in the streaming
Of light-whispered laughter all around,
Where happy passengers are homeward bound.

Their sunny journey is in safety ending,
But for you no journey has an end.
The tears that to your eyes their light are lending
Shine in softness to no waiting friend;
Beyond the search of any eye they tend.

There is no nest for the unresting fever
Of your passion, yearning, hungry-veined;
There is no rest nor blessedness forever
That can clasp you, quivering and pained,
Whose eyes burn ever to the Unattained.

Like time, and like the river's fateful flowing,
Flowing though the ship has come to rest,
Your love is passing through the mist and going,
Going infinitely from your breast,
Surpassing time on its immortal quest.

The ship draws softly to the place of waiting,
All flush forward with a joyful aim,
And while their hands with happy hands are mating,
Lips are laughing out a happy name--
You pause, and pass among them like a flame.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, a lost poem<3


my pathetic desperacy
all epic with a naturalistic misery
angels hailed my numbers
now my calculations fumble
the rest
the equation unsettled on an aimless quest
everything has changed
but the undeserved trust is an ultimate unattained
my state in dooms
orbiting faces behind moons
a wreckage when asleep
like the neptunes called me
she said hit the lights
but the blinds blinded my sights
wonderful
a little optimism whisks me hopeful
forget forever the features
that lulled me once to my breather
now something broken
don't worry nothing stolen
for me to stick for me to piece neat
queen the rusted diamonds under my seat
follow the heart's revolution
undercover not a solution
alone even if disappointing
even when betraying
let my allusions surf the six temples
shadows bathing my past resembles
to come clean
find the place beyond the cold mean
like the twirl of the system
no one else wanted to resist him
took me there
to the middle of no where
my dilemma is that frightened half
no good to steal no good to laugh
but with a wake up to them dreams such a slap
a wisdom's muse would eventually snap
stars dance
her sky tortures her glance
crimson red and she realizes
that the once for all so be it would summarize this
would the potion grant a pain?
the poison of them affairs regard my chained name
let go
just say yes to saying no
stay awake
don't sleep take a break
                                                                                           ------ravenfeels

an empathy face
comes into focus out of the grey rain
with her own set of capitulations to the greater good
with her own price paid for the comforts cold and thin
an empathy face alabaster finely carved
with tears in stark contrast to the brightness in her eye
comes into slow resolution out of the grey grainy surface of the rain
with its harsh aspects felt like nails slowly driven
her thin red lips and blue shadow
her divine voice as she talks to some side person
her eyes never leaving yours
she is drinking you
with a deserts worth of thirsts

graceful she flows across the tiled floor
like she was born to such places
like she was born to glide where all others had crawled
but when she reaches you puts her hand to your arm
her fingers trembling her breaths short and swift her face flush
she pauses and lifts her head and plunges her soul into your eyes
with breathtaking abandon like an ******
her black sweater with a golden bird stitched into
her bracelet silver and bejewelled
her perfections catalogue in your mind in that momentary glimpse of heavens unattained
that she breaths in deep
drawing breath and strength
before she opens her song
before she cries out in such sweet tongue
at the bitter night

an empathy face
with her own set of capitulations to the greater good
with her own price paid for the comforts cold and thin
and i cry with and for her
as she cries with and for me
an empathy face
in the grey rain

A poem's a poem and nothing else
As they stand they will never be a tree

Even by God's decree

A poem's nothing more than the mangled thoughts
Spilling out of our heads
It's not the future that I see

Nor was it meant to be

Though I do admit
at times they tend to make me cry
And sometimes on the inside
they want to make me die

And again they give me hope
Even make me want to dance
And I come close to love and God
And they give me sense of balance

The world could do
without the poems
that funnel through our pens
But what a sorry lot we would be
without the freedom that it brings

So let the words flow like water
over Niagara Falls
Give our hearts the magic words
that make our spirits sing
Let us gain the unattained
Poems , and poetry is the name

fairy-tales, i blame my UN-satisfaction on fairy-tales
bright fancy color mixed with glitter dust and smiles hiding behind innocence was the perfect idea of exsistance engraved on my child like mind ensuring i will always strive for that level of perfection and when unattained i will turn on myself in viciousness known only by cannibalist

who is to say in this world filled with endless illusion and unrealistic drama that the life i lead is unperfect and not as good as it will ever get

I once was a kid,
Just like we all were.
I once saw the world through child-eyes.
I once chased butterflies,
And caught them.
I once danced through fields of flowers,
Breathed in the scent,
Of unattained dreams.
I once stared at a window,
and thought of all the beautiful things beyond.
But I no longer am a kid.
I now see the world through adult-eyes.
Butterflies are chased,
But never seized.
Field are left unbothered.
The aroma of dreams still lingers in the air,
Waiting to be found,
But left hidden.
I now stare at windows and only see the rain,
The clouds.

I want to hate you
To crawl inside
My own stomach and die
While you fly
With your greedy suicide
Dissecting and erecting
Monuments to your opulence
Your eyes gleam with
Unattained wealth
You cannot help yourself
The media tells you what to want
Which block is the best block
Were you want to shop
How to stop the clock
And fear, fear, fear
And cheap beer, beer
Oh my deer
The headlight home in
On your definition of sin
But the only sin I see
Is that you believe
This is how life is supposed to be

Does it not feel like rain today to you,
my delicate ghost?

That or the wind has lust,
blowing up my skirt, it must see the
white you left unattained by men
I say for you, these storms are
a chance to greet pureness again.

You have an O-mouth
the way your whispers ring like howls:
borrow the air, evaporate mud.

I hear such a sound and know that
virginity won’t be enough –
what tears do fall
from your great blue waterspout?

Do they know, my delicate ghost,
they are but pieces of you dropped in
my hands?

When a lace funnel carries your final
god-spits cleansing our land
you are so delicate, but I shall ask –
is it like rain for ghosts, is it sad?

my heart thumps louder

as death appears
unspoken words hang in the trees
listen for my voice whispering in the wind

death draws nearer
unspoken sentiments in a simple glance
unattained goals and unmet dreams

death reaches out his hand
unspoken love in the things I did
a smile broaches my face

death touches me in that final moment
a world speaks of the love I gave
the love I gave with actions. not words

unspoken love, in the end,
is the most powerful of all

He, my love,
chose to see shadows of
another man in my pupil,
He, my love,
could not see adrift
coating them instead,
He, my love,
said tomorrow's a part of my hallucination,
it isn't there,
he said,
He, my love,
smeared his being
with untruth,
he said was me,
He, my love,
knew passion,
He, my love,
had an unattained character,
of obsession with beauty.

I’ve seen shooting stars,
Their, bodies, burning undesired
Thrown away
Like banished tears
From the dark pupil of the sky
I’ve been holding the hand of
A decade worth of dreams undone forever
So they could achieve dreams of their own
Before my gaze
I’ve held their ghosts in my arms
I’ve been standing at a full “I mustn’t” worth of distance
From their lips
I’ve been filling in vain, the bottomless glasses
Of the most beautiful words,
That spring from the electric spark
Beneath the ribs
I’ve been leading the guerilla squads
Of my beliefs
Against the empire of Impossibility,
And its most decorated generals: Doubt,
Insufficiency, Wrong…
I’ve lied face-down, hands tied behind my back
For that traitor, Restraint…
But now… I forgive him now…
And now, Empires fall on their own
Now those dreams unachieved,
Meticulously paint their eyes
Wrinkled from the salty trickles,
That realization has drawn towards me
For I’ve always known that…
Loving is now or never
You cannot wrap it in tinfoil
And freeze it for later
Yet, they, those morally unattained, chastely righteous dreams,
They do arrive at Knowledge station
Aboard the Intuit train,
Atop the tracks of true common sense,
Alas, too late.
My loving is given now
To Fulfillment,
For it chose now to never
And caressed my scars of restraint
With warm fingertips
And kissed my see-through “I mustn’t” from the other side of the wall
To melt away the distance to my bloodless lips

Time floats with the dust
And hangs in our silence,
Mulls in our laughter,
Hides our reliance
On trust.
Oh say it if you must;
We can watch the
Metal rust
On our support beams,
Grow old and
Talk of dreams
Unattained nostalgically
But it seems
Like we'll always be
Stardust
Blown together
On a gust of chance.
And if it's true,
Let's entrance
Ourselves in
Harmonic wanderlust.

See it but never feel it.
Get close, only to push it away.
“Don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone”
Epitome of my life.
What is wrong with me?
What makes me so un-lovable?
Can someone remove this defective sign from my forehead,
And replace it with a kiss.
I want more than mediocre.
I want someone to miss.
Do I ask for too much?
Are my requirements unachievable?
My heart remains unconquered, unattained.
I’m tired of fairy tale endings,
Silly thoughts put in my head by unrealistic, but hopelessly believable movies.
They are all the same.
Girl meets boy. Girl messes it up. Boy forgives girl.
Happily Ever After.
At least they let on that relationships have problems.
I want raw, unrelenting love.
The real deal.
No movie, novel, or episode of “*** and the City” could ever touch.
Left alone, drowning in thoughts,
Who else in the world could need love,
Like I need love?

again and again I tripped.

the first time
my shoelaces had been
white,
pure from the silt.
I noticed a stain from
the grime,
not bleak to the
first glance
but I knew my lacs
had lost
their purity.

one more time,
a piece of thread unraveled.
again, not drastic
to perception
but it was clear
my shoelaces
were erupting due
to the results of my reckless
wanderings.

again and again I tripped
and by the time I decided to face
myself in order to
reflect upon my ineptitude,
I didn't know who I was
or where I had been.

I was forced to ponder
my shoelaces
for what they really
were: unrecognizably filthy

my shoelaces were now charcoal,
fringed and covered by all the them for were
their ruined mess
muck and dirt I put them through.
I wondered if anyone could
tell that they were
once untainted and unattained
or if all they saw of them
were their ruined mess.

again and again I tripped
and I began to wonder
if there was any reason to get
back up again?

I gave all that I could give
and the result was
anesthetic sentiment
and
obscene shoelaces.

What if...
Tomorrow
was over today
What if...
I love you never came
What if ...
all you ever wanted
Stayed unattained
What if your life
Seemed like a game
What would you do?
Would you shift the blame?
Time stops for no one
We all go gray
So don't wait til tomorrow
Do it today

What would happen
If we read “X over X”
As the calculation
It deserves
Instead of so much
Self-serving banter?
We’d find what goes in what
And in quantities unforeseen
As conversing crowds
Among the qualities:
How about this?
“Mind over matter.”
How much matter is within mind,
What pieces of the world
For ideals left behind—
Perhaps what memories
In nutrients we disregard
And the patchwork politics
Between chocolate and hearts
Of artichoke.
What of “ballots over bullets?”
When blood spells the words
We’ve yet to choke
Down?
How many shots will be fired
Before we like band-aids
To wounds apply?
How much violence endures
Till democracy is blest,
How many protests cut down
Before we can lay down the sword?
What of the adage “brains over brawn?”
The well-known oath of courts and kratocrats
With force harp upon?
The strength which one must possess
To prove intelligence
Proves unattained
Yet so many beatings
Are reasoned as recompense—
What sense must be made of pain
To convince us the path of enlightened men
We must avoid
To stay in line.
Thus, submission over freedom
Is where true freedom stems.

The Goddess of Love


The exuberant fire that burns within my soul,
In that first embrace of a lovers smile,
Shall forever be held, in equality to the power of love.
Her servant shall forever wish for her luminous, infallible, tongue,
Which speaks of true love without a word conceived inside a lie;
For immortal shall be our love, until the end of days, to the grave.


In her face I can see God’s grace; the innocence of a babies cry.
Such trust can be forthcoming, towards this woman; this play.
This story of our lives, entwined hearts beating together;
For in her presence I find Heaven and shall be content forever.


This guiding star; the singular, most radiant concubine.
The love of a life, until the end of a destiny in the making.
Such joviality to be found, wherever she may go, in any loving line;
For this fugitive of love, shall wait forever to become her king.


She ignites an intense feeling, like a perfect literature.
Such a word of beauty does not exist,
To describe my love for her.


Her eroticism is the petroleum, tossed onto my passions fire;
For she is perfectly, but never overly, garrulous.
She could talk for England, about the condemned boy; her desire.
The one who speaks truth from the buxom and is never fatuous,
When speaking of her, for every syllable is bold and required;
For in her eyes, this ambassador of love has become enthralled.
I have fallen in love, for my soul speaks from the heart, undying;
Eternally worshipping this idol.  This Goddess of forever more.


A forever love, or just a target for a cursed tongue?  Who knows?
Nevermore a word of harm, spoken to the exotic Queen of future.
For I am her ardent follower, into the abyss of the blackest hole;
An uncertain, unattained as of yet, unknown destiny of this suitor.


For she sees my insides, and in her bed I cannot lie;
I cannot deny my adoration and fixation for her unchaste mind.
For intoxicating is her smell, her natural scent of amore, my diet.
Her lust is my need and in her soul I must become a requirement.


She has fallen from the stars and landed in my arms;
For in her I have found religion and immortality, for she is genteel.
She is reminiscent of happiness obtained, she is optimism itself!
She is hope, glory, blessed, sophisticated; true to me and for real.


I can trust in her words to never bring death to my door,
For suicide is no more welcome here, for I have perfection; behold!
My freethinking words, simply speak of devotion to my superior;
For her intellect shows obedience, to all Gods of love.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Approaches sure and silent
Taking hold of the soul
for some its peace and for many violent
And it is ghastly

The body loses its vigor
its effect being immediate
being a sudden trigger
to the relinquishment of vitality

Men are born to die
Immortality is an unattained virtue
Life is a transitory period, sigh
the benefits of which we must pursue

It’s a strange thing, demise
a sort of an unwelcome guest
appearing as an unpleasant surprise
not understood by even the wise

People who live life in glory & fame
sometimes face its vengeance
which comes sudden & unexpected
while the half-dead continue their existence

Causing grief & pain
it picks out victims at random
all efforts at its prevention go in vain
it kills as it pleases

Death liberates
yet is undesirable
because it separates
from the world

It is felt but not seen
till those few moments
when mortal breathes his last breath
glimpsing at the pale face of death

Happy 83rd birthday to thy cremated mom

Harriet Harris fought tooth and nail
Mother succumbed
to terminal illness without fail
Ovarian/ Uterine Cancer to no avail
hosted by death feasted fancy
at Oyster Bay metastasized inducing this male
the sol son to grapple as psyche didst ail.
***********
Major organs compromized grim reaper and
carried corpse into dead zone as a keeper brand
donned as one Canarsie flashy dame grand
ball room dancer didst skittered in right hand
side o' me noggin, the idea flit ta left land
of gray matter thru me mined task didst ex panned

foregoing bidding on e-bay, ruminate how trite
online shenanagins, never asking nor knowing spite
most likely raged within yar being,
which lack of filial duty haint right
to be near where psyche flails quite
understandably, but no matter matthew scott

never did ask, how emotions most clear aflame
with anger writhing asper your terminal plight
vis a vis injustice to ****** desire with shroud of night
arising each morning to brilliant light

ye, thy lover of life becoming ashen gray
with recurring incomplete bucket list that may
already, a dozen plus years ago - neigh
aye methinks, so much deprived of grandchildren ply
their oars thru the time stream, how **** sigh
to partake whence thee drew final breath thy
avoid seeing thee stiffen with rigor mortis, why...

did unlucky dice throw of fate
rob and steal unattained goals ye strove with grate
fully before out bidden by dead souls, who hate
mortals to complete, thus truncate a lifelong mate
to papa, whom recouped severe loss, though his pate

undoubtedly flits with remembrance
of thee one he did highly rate
despite occasions, where spats hood did vitiate

this son feels he did not booster morale at all
with Huzzah, but stood mute in proximity
when ye didst call
in kitchen of century old stone
mansion built and hall

ways echo wing the absence sans pall
in droning sounds of silence, a squall
vacuumed a key per, a gal fairly tall
whose son now reflects how many a wall
he figuratively erected shuttered from y'all

that home razed, yet memory of complex edifice
still intact, averse to let eyes sweep, the home I miss
analogous to house at Pooh’s Corner
viz shared with a younger and older loving sis

both edging into their twilight zoned time on earth
re: the outer limits of expected longevity, yet stoking
the coals essence of each their respective hearth
324 Level Road Collegeville above recaptured
with recollections of merriment and mirth
oft occasions this sol heir withholding telling worth

thee ness, and must therefore purge such grief
considerably less than when pages
of me life seemed like a shuffled sheaf
or soon after yar demise, a sense of drowning
without recourse to being rescued,
nor near enough to grasp hold of any reef

that home stead, blessedly played important role
constituent key residence like quasar pole
sated light years removed from civilization, when goal
acquisition February 28th 1968 won land slide cole

essence tract of idyllic radiance upon open space
already slated tubby outfitted, transformed for race
sing urbanity asper mobile Americans at a pace
greater than mother nature shows amazing grace
as commercialization takes charge and doth efface,

the once bucolic, ecologic, and idyllic
forces this sentimental sir
to latch upon steady brace
bemoaning and tempted to take ace

hip of hemlock to forego discontent with bing hue
man, who cherished tender mother-son glue
and wondrous tribulation, 
I harbored enshrined and unwittingly flew
from pristine sanctuary secured
deeply in consciousness,

which access to retrieve circumstances
of myself as a boy still dwells in this man shun - clew
less nothing can recreate, nor reconstruct boyhood,
teenage and adult hood pangs
scare me wide-awake
whar frightful dreams serve as boo

stirring of dormant sentiment,
especially thee 13th day n 11th month
of each year
the aura, charisma, and persona, veer
dims sum milk of human kindness bequeathed tear
ring inner sanctum, where
this offspring doth miss his mum, he doth rare
lee shed light, only when faux pause (all faux)
aye scrawl a mini opus knowing you will

never be cognizant, extant, for me to grant mere
cathartic expunging in situ flowing emotions hear
able only to live kith and kin or
akin to Rapunzel unfurling tress buffeted hair

inside my being for love unspoken dare
ring father hood got taught true value, sans two beautiful
grand daughters ye would marvel
poignant traits, and disbelief that this bare
wren wove within DNA lasses who usher an air.

Every human is just a pile of memories of broken love, shattered dreams, unattained desires, ego, missed opportunities......

I walked a lonely mile
To seek love, unattained,
When I was but a child—
Alas, no love remained.

I walked a lonely mile,
Escape those uninspired
Caught up to the rank and file
And gave in when I tired.

I walked a lonely mile,
A distance I thought long,
But once I turned a’quile
Discovered I was wrong.

And being all the while,
In limit of my range,
I walked that lonely mile
Yet nothing ever changed.

Mine feeble efforts pale in comparison
to a kid scaling El Capitan
of Yosemite National Park,
nevertheless me, a dry witted husband
self emasculated milquetoast
of late ofttimes yawps imprecations
against fickle finger of fate.

No way would yours truly
utter maledictions against the missus,
who espouses unbridled love
toward (me) the groom she married
approximately two and a half
dozen ***** dancing years ago,
yet I experience winter of discontent,
where married life appears ideal,
when she happens to sleep,
or shops for food at supermarket.

We comport ourselves
with considerably less contention
versus half life ago
of our connubial covenant,
when verbal and physical altercations
the rule rather than exception,
linkedin with severe domestic chaos
exhibited courtesy helter skelter
incorporating ejaculations of divorce
despite the lack of monetary resources
(essentially livingsocial in squalor)
within hoity toity MainLine
drawing the ire of snobbish neighbors,
and the attention
of Children Youth Services
since two innocent daughters
caught in figurative crosshairs

triggered by emotional fallout,
whereby family of four members
experienced abominable pitfalls
fostering bleak wretchedness
associated with penury
and mental health challenges
severely rupturing and impinging
the impressionable psyches
of both female progeny,
but especially the eldest child,
who bore the brunt of
absolute zero guilt,
suffering scathing savage
indelible psychological wounds
that kick/jump started
her search for life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

We (two proud parents
admire successful survival
and success of adult offspring,
whose dogged attainment
of ability to support themselves
credited with countless supportive services,
particularly intervening where the welfare
of youngest warranted tender loving care
earning deserved commendable
meritorious kudos extricating herself
out the escape from maws
(and paws) of poverty
and achieving remarkable highmarks
earning adequate, albeit healthy wages
to support herself
with disposable income
to establish a nest egg.

Mein kampf an exposé
of stagnant emotional
physical, and social starvation
otherwise characterized during
prime time when boyhood
regarding manifestation into manhood
which anorexia nervosa undermined
and even of crafting latest poem
telltale spindleshanks (skinny legs)
constantly remind me
muscular development sabotaged,
though I dedicate a portion of each day
pedaling a stationary bicycle
brand name Cleverlife Pooboo W258
acquired free of charge off Craigslist.

Time waits for no man
or woman, nor child,
and quickening orbitz
around planet earth
reminds one mortal specimen
of **** sapiens
to wrench free and clear
dwelling upon unattained potential
constituting countless opportunities
aborted before even testing
mine latent ability.