Long Farfetched Poems
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Bis
I was trying to build a future using the chaos theory,
But now is the time to compartmentalize.
I visualize a future happiness one day near me;
In love maybe with me, or because of me, despite.
If she is happy, then I will be happy.
I seek the extraordinary truth in you.
Do you fit the shoe of destiny?
Or is hot farfetched from obscurity?
Placed before me waving endlessly,
Look at me! I am a mirage of what could be.
Things take time, the bigger the better.
Never say never or nothing lasts forever.
It is never too late to make a change,
Or learn from your mistakes, again.
Drag ink across the page with love, not rage.
Just say what needs to be said and keep the rest caged.
Be a poet of great understanding.
Truly amaze them and leave when they start clapping,
Shouting “Bis!” and “Encore!”
“We want more and more and more!”
That is the time to open your minds door
And then you step on through…
I wish you all the luck in the world.
Fly out into the blue.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
*Image of State Bar of Texas by Articles.
AUDIO: Tip; Right-click on volume then click on Loop of the drop-down menu for continuous play.
Appreciation Day
I have not yet formed my children to be,
none unique in school as to be at home,
but when worry finds me, it commonly
offers a non compos mentis syndrome.
Mainly, the boys and, remotely the girls.
We switched staff as guardian ad litem,
not verbatim, taxpayer's pigs on pearls
soliloquy, current sense farfetched 'em
boys will be boys scenario. Lord sweet,
Saviour, now the talk with the principal.
Blah, blah, got out to sources via tweet,
hence, amass based on moral principle,
they convoked pride of our alma mater.
Yea! Ah, OMGoodness, Superbus pater.
2022 January 28
*HMS; 10 syllables x 10 lines = 140 syllables
Keywords:
Non compos mentis; not sane or in one's right mind.
Guardian ad litem; ward of the State while in official capacity.
Alma mater; nourishing mother/the school, college, or university that one once attended.
Superbus pater; Proud father.
Animation I grew up with,
Bride of fantasy stories.
Comedy with action I watch,
Death of worries I snatch.
Earth of penitence is
Fist of imagination I sense.
Girdle of suffocation, I sike
Hinterland of minds, I hike.
Insatiable finds take off
Juggernaut of marvels thereof.
Kommandatura with style,
Love of sequels I file.
Mysteries of lifestyle are not farfetched,
Nincompoops play unwretched.
Over and under a replay of streams --
Posthumously acclaimed.
Quondam penners survived,
Reminiscences of sets --
Sets of scenes and takes,
Travesty of the reclaimed.
Up, up and away
Victory not far away.
Wonders of life in a bucket
Xanadu of strife in a socket.
Yabadabadoo!
Zen of life.
Some thoughts for a need to let go
Some thoughts for a need never to feel
Thoughts for tomorrow to never follow
Thoughts for a future to never be real
A distraction is required
A certainty awaiting in vain
When alone a mind isn’t at all quiet
Yet, I possess no skill for my mind to be tamed
Perhaps a single-minded thought
Perhaps a need to be pushed over an edge
I knew yet what be… what is not
A light-minded answer to only seem farfetched
This world, my world never to be
To only accommodate for a self at ease
Distracted by this world am I not to see
For a certainty to only will if I please
Will I remember tomorrow?
When my world today never seem real
Some thoughts did I learn to let go?
When a yesterday I remember to feel
Char comes into my office with an angry face and stomping.
I know she is mad, for my throw pillow she is whomping.
I get her settle down, and we share a laugh or two.
If Mrs. McLead is around the corner, her ears are blue.
Ten seconds after Char is gone, McLead comes storming in.
There is a storm in her eyes, nasty in the set of her chin.
She gives me her side, and I listen without taking sides.
Adding nothing to the story that sounds nothing like Char Guides.
A third person enters in the afternoon and tells me what she saw.
Her accounting is as farfetched as the other two’s anger was so raw.
Now I understand why detectives are confused at every crime scene.
None of these tales resemble the one given to me by Jim Green.
I grew up in Bath in the nineteen nineties
wearing short shorts over tighty whities,
while Bath were champions of English Rugby,
a beautiful city farfetched from ugly.
We played on Stilts and had Yo-Yo's,
skateboards with logo's,
Tamagotchi's, Slinkys and Pogo Sticks,
a string tied to sticks for Diablo tricks.
A lot wobbled, we played Wall Ball,
Smarties packets caused trouble.
Political Correctness didn't exist yet,
we wore Reebok, Fila or Hi-Tec.
We had Roller Skates, later Roller Blades,
out on the concrete in the streets we played,
as there were always lots of parking spaces,
space we used for running races.
We played Bulldogs Charge on repeat,
never stopping for the rain or sleet.
We played Wembley, or Heads, Volleys and Beats,
playing in the street our daily treat.
We played Kirby because kirbs were free,
40 40 in, also called Alien,
front gardens were a great WWF ring,
or we'd hit tennis balls tied to string.
Jumpers for goalposts,
or one and a lamppost,
cheated as we'd peek
playing Hide And Seek.
We played Knock Knock Ginger with its hiding,
or we'd get out our bikes and go riding.
We went Garden Hopping, never stopping,
played in the dark after the suns dropping.
We had Master Systems, Mega Drives or Nintendo's,
but were not reliant on technology inside,
we built Lego stadiums, played Subbuteo,
we collected sticker books, Pog's and trading cards with pride.
There was a fuzziness to Radio and TV,
we'd always sneak a peek at Page 3,
we watched films on VHS, played Cassettes or CD's,
or Conkers when they dropped from trees.
We only had four television channels to be flicking,
Saturday mornings were for Live and Kicking.
Bodger and Badger, The Chuckle Brothers, Rosie and Jim,
but you couldn't beata, bit of Blue Peter,
to Neighbours and Home and Away we tuned in.
When home alone emptied living rooms,
played football inside, 2-a-side,
cleaned up damage with brooms,
when parents got home we lied.
I'm proud I grew up in the nineties in Bath,
we had so much fun, so many laughs.
From no other time and place I'd rather be,
so here's to the nineties in the West Country.
We all conform to something
Whether it’s to the outskirts of society
Or whether it’s society as a whole
There’s always something more
A person wants to reach for
And to achieve these goals
It’s not always necessarily easy
To go against the tide
Only a select few can actually
Manage that type of pressure
And at the end of the day
It’s not who you vote for
Or the differences that separate us
But the common interest
At a chance of happiness
I know it sounds farfetched
But think about it
Everything you do in your days entirety
Evolves around two thoughts
Your survival,
Which includes money, food
And other vital necessities
And Secondly,
Comfort
Which is happiness
At it’s finest disclosure
Why do you think that old man
Chases down the bus three blocks
Just to get to work
Why those less fortunate
Sweep parking lots for your change
And thought she has three children
Yet She fails to surrender her hope
Of a better living
The substance that teases
A wealthy mans hunger
That little something that pushes
A broken student further toward success
That itch that gives you the assurance
To take a chance, gamble…
When you really don’t even have
The confidence to
What are you in pursuit of?
2/10/21
"Never Mattered"
Folks so hesitant and others far too eager
You either do or don't got a fever
Non or a true believer
In the ever after
Worlds being forever shattered
I always had to be a clever bastard
Got to get it done, can't rely on a benefactor
Had to realize certain things never mattered
Always regardless of the weather pattern
A planet full of far too many carcasses
And far too many drugs all around, even from the pharmacist
If you never give up, life can be marvelous
People support or march against
Most likely won't be, but there needs to be an armistice
Here we go, it starts again
They'll cause fights and arguments
Went right over their heads, for them it was too hard to get
Let's be honest, only made of bones, muscle, organs and cartilage
Not immune to arsenic
It can be fatal causing harm quick
The tides changed, the tables turned and the cards flipped
Near and far from any market
Earth, tile, wood or carpet
Secrets getting leaked, or they are kept
Taken serious or disregarded
People so foolish or some of the smartest
Staying bitter or having feelings of stardust
Humans are cold-blooded and evil, or they are just
I was moving towards the light, yet remaining in darkness
Until I actually turned into Clark Kent
It's not farfetched
Still beings are exaggerating, always trying their darndest
Putting forth the very hardest
And still never hitting the targets
I was always looking for someone
While living among the stars, moon and the sun
Out to live it up, not just here for love and fun
Still one hell of a son of a gun
I was always the underdog, rarely ever had a plus one
I've put my trust in some
Battles lost but the war was just won
I got it done in blood
Continually I dug in mud
I am not the one to judge
It's been years, not weeks or a month of
The drink and drugs is what I got numb from
While dealing with conundrums
Most assumed there was humdrum
Is there really anything below or up above?
Upon Discovering A Wishbone...
(to late for Hanukkah)
I attach very
little value, nee doubt
to farfetched linkedin
phenomena brought about
when breaking off
the larger section
of a wishbone,
sans effortless knockout,
my dominant hand
did hold out,
while yours truly pretended
to freak out
with a playful
twist and shout,
no matter aye attribute
"FAKE" good luck,
thus resumed crafting
this poem scout
ting for expressing
rhyme to work out
for no reason only to rollout
a silly ditty re:
guarding Bobe myseh -
I did not tout
(Old wives tale,
an untrue belief), -
on par with trout,
that could scale Mount Fisher
anticipating literary washout
nonetheless silently did ruminate,
(preposterous yen for
lower teeth to sprout),
after filling more
lines against whiteout
quickly some minutes
passed, or thereabout
aye, forgot about
the matter altogether
thus imagine my utter stirabout,
when my tongue felt
faint ridge to stickout
no, though gifted
with vivid imagination...,
an immediate welled up,
(then quickly squelched) to runabout
mine person tends tubby
low key, but...now phaseout,
could take place
for lower dentures
with greater choice of foods,
(this pork guy) could pigout
humph...naturally methought
third set of teeth,
not exceptionally outrageous,
nor exceptionally noticeable
unless...lower lip made
into a miniature rainspout.
Gonifs and gossips revisited
since originally being crafted
approximately half dozen
dirty deeds done dirt cheap years ago...
Abound and lurk
within every nook and cranny
analogous to some annoying pest
harmless though one reside here,
when off his meds goes berserk
here at Highland Manor Apartments.
They snatch and snitch packages -
meant for other than themselves -
think Grinch who stole Christmas
plus snoop, i.e. eavesdrop
big Dumbo ears as listening devices
(batteries not required)
or serve as rumor mongers
to don self importance
and trumpet "FAKE NEWS."
We (yours truly and his misses)
dwelled at aforementioned residence
July first 2025 will be eight years,
and no sooner did both of us set foot
on premises than hearsay
immediately promulgated
(metaphorically swirled about our heads),
and passed like greased lightning
thru the robust grapevine
purportedly wife of mine
brought in live snakes.
Oddly and interestingly enough though,
I never actually never heard nor saw
a fellow resident
talk (or whisper in hushed tones)
about me outright.
Rather than badmouth other feisty folks,
which leaves unpleasant virtual
aftertaste described as phooey zook,
thus comeuppance to reprobate recipients
I activate viz cluck
king silly reasonable rhyme,
(so keeps head up
for urbane adverse city slicker
you better watch out
(...better not shout...) just duck
and run for cover cuz poet took
effluvia enroute spouted by word huck
stir, he avoids naming
(chatterboxes whose lives
so devoid of meaning,
they figuratively kickstart tittle-tattle),
who vocally ramp up
some juicy tidbit with any luck
taking page from former president playbook
letting their lips uncontrollably run a-muck
totally oblivious to credibility factor being a schmuck
buzzfeed initial kernel of truth and truck
outrageous zingers suitable for National Enquirer,
tragicomical, cuz mistruths
courtesy tenants exhibit chutzpah to pluck
farfetched outright lies and innuendos
rolling of tongues of then occupants such as:
"Bible Thumper/Holy Roller,"
"Bingo/ Phat Cathy,""Crooked Old Man,"
"Curvy Girl/Thunder Thighs," "Frumpty Dumpty
"Mush/Smash Mouth, "Snaggletooth,"
"The Bodyguard," "The Fossil," "The Schvartze,"
"Winkle," and last but not leased "Zha Zha”.
Give me fruit flies, mice
and/or roaches any day,
or give me death!