The rain puddles in the cracked city pavement, a drowning vision of striking familiarity. Nostalgia encasing those mulling over their Earl Greys in coffee shops. A wooden stir dissipates the bubbles in the steaming liquid, contrasted by the cool droplets streaking down the ordinary windows. As breathing slows, eyes lock deep in thought upon the bustling, grey castle streets. She slows as she steps to the sidewalk, meeting a gaze before they realize. Her face like snow, her lips like two tiny rose petals just starting to push from their blossom. Her eyes as dark as they are deep, rounded and child-like. Coming to, the strangers been locked on one another for just half a second longer than deemed socially acceptable. She breaks stare, adjusts her bag; and with her hooded head to the ground, makes her way past the old coffee shop.

(lyrics)

exposed emotions
blister 'neath
your numbing gaze
of indifference
that roars
in thund'rous waves
to crash upon
the battered shores
of my heart

exposed emotions
drivin' me insane
their hungry voices
screaming in my head
behold a night wind
leads me
to a place...
where dangerous visions
softly tread

take my heart
take my soul
take anything you want
dont take my sons
take my heart
take my soul
take my life if you must
just dont take my sons
dont take my sons

exposed emotions
out of control
a raging firestorm
burning thru my soul
behold a storm wind
carries me away
where crimson rivers
twist and bend...
on these endless
desert sands

cover me in shades
of golden brown
a trackless dune
in desert lands
where crimson rivers
twist and bend
twist and bend
in these bitter
endless sands

take my heart
take my soul
take anything you want
dont take my sons
take my heart
take my soul
take my life
if you must
i'm under your thumb
you've got the gun


pic poem
http://oi68.tinypic.com/65bwhz.jpg


- (Original Poem) -

exposed emotions
blazing like a firestorm
'neath a bright indifferent sun

life's blood flowing freely
from wounds beyond repair
falling wetly to the ground
where crimson rivers pool
in shades of golden brown

hungrily devoured
yet never tasted
by these endless
desert sands....

Dear,
My vision is clouded by two green eyes, alike emeralds gazing at me,
A delicate body, frankly short yet mature and smart, but so warm,
This is what you are for me, you feel human, you smell human yet all the others see you as something else, a monster is what they call you,
But this is not true, even if you should be some kind of eldritch abomination, for me you're a gal of grace, of elegance and kindness,
Even if they talk ill of you, saying you are twisted and weird,
And even if they call me naive, for not seeing what you really are,
I will not give up, for the both of us are not like them, we can't be.
I love you. For a world we see is true, what we manifest, what I'll build you is a mansion of crystal and of course pure, starlight.
The beauty rising by your own hand is a blinding light in the dark,
Bloom, as the world around us fades away, blossom, we become one.
But all that remains just a dream, the cruel reality is,
I can only meet you there.

~ Umi

I used to think I was better alone,
No people to chase,
No roses to bring home.
But all of these thoughts were from long ago.

I used to believe in this thing called love,
Hearing of all its effects, its unending sun.
But to feel its warmth actions are required.
I've fallen so many times, I've become too tired.

Chasing the highs, while falling for lows,
But I never gave up, I never let go.
Why, I'm not really sure,
I stole the energy but love I never owned.

I used to think I was better alone,
Why did I ever think I could see the light,
Through the dark cloudy smoke?

Now I'm stuck with your heart,
From your fake shiny clone.
Don't try to hide it,
Cause your lies are revealed,
Your secrets are shown.

Save me from my own destruction
And help me with a new introduction
For I am Lost with no vision
And time tells me to make a decision

Toxic love spilling
Aroma of fumes diffusing
Vision blurring
Combusting heart beating
Manipulated brain thinking
Cancerous wounds multiplying
Contagious words infecting
Every lasting stain remaining
Fading clarity in this reality
A crumbling position, grabbing irregularity
Pure toxic entanglement
Slowly dying
There is no denying
For it is a cunning grotesque addiction

The Artist


I need a Muse.  
Do you think it could be you?
Can you pick up a paint brush
And show me what you can do?


I need a painter of portraits;
To fill in the gaps inside my head.
I need a Goddess of Love,
To notice the stuff I write in my bed.


I need an Artist, who is simply magnificent,
A breath-taking vision, who is simply Heaven sent.
I need an Angel to paint me a Picasso,
Of my poetry in pieces, before I end up like Van Gogh.


Slightly impaired by deafness, I guess.
Going grey now; thank you stress.


Hi Mona, how’s Rembrandt?
He’s been seen drinking in a bar,
With someone called Cezanne?


Call Michelangelo; Donatello will have a plan.
Leonardo’s busy with his inventions,
But here comes Raphael.
Turtle Power!  Hi Master Splinter.
Do you have your easel and paints ready,
To see you through the winter?


Paint me a story
And I’ll write you a picture.
I think if the two of us worked together,
What I see, to you, could become much clearer.


Are you sat there looking for some inspiration?
Then read one of my poems, sing one of my songs;
Maybe then you could paint our creation.
Maybe then, I could write poetry about your art.


My vision brought to life,
With the gift of your care.
Paint a picture of us together,
So you will remember that I will always be there.


If you ever need some inspiration,
Just creep inside my mind for a little vacation;
An escape from reality, or from your personal Demon’s.
You will see we are all the same;
I have as many foibles as you do.


My heart belongs to any Woman who truly wants it;
But she hasn’t told me how she feels yet,
So I guess I can’t live without it.


But soon I will meet someone
And offer them my love;
Because an artist without inspiration,
Is like a poet who has never been in love.


Joyous tragedy! Shakespeare laughs,
As he tears apart love with just a couple of paragraphs.
Dead and gone!  Not our fair Juliet.
If Romeo had just gone home instead,
He would have turned into a moody poet.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

The rage inside


Am I a clockwork man, or a clockwork mouse?
Would I still be the same man, if I let my rage out?


Am I a jigsaw piece of a master plan?
Or a glimpse of art in a foreign land?
Am I a way of seeing, or a way of keeping the peace?
Or a weapon of choice inside your hands?


Am I blessed by God, or cursed by The Devil?
If I have never lost my temper, how have I learned to stay so civil?


If a box of tricks is Pandora’s Box;
Then why are there no locks on Pandora’s Box?


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.