Long Green day Poems
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tender petsmart impact, where world wide web populated
with sacrificial pacification sans deity
via oblation, immolation, flagellation appeasing Dominatrix
borrow wing, vis a vis amalgamated viz Roman sol invictus
wrought fiery brimstone tempting those who dared
assert contrary fledgling jambalaya outlook
provoking regally supreme sacerdotal wiseman
punishing opposing incorporating
novel modus operandi explaining sacrilegious worship
such heretics pitched headlong
into fiendish frothing furnace
forcing obeisance toward primitive popular
identified, honored, glorified father figure
expressing devotion re:
decking the halls of the mountain king,
whence boughs of Juniper sprigs contriving wreaths
sanctifying twisted brambles via sprinkling angel dust
(actually cremated remains of malefactors
stripped of habiliments) during bleak winter
unwittingly interweaving nascent (futuristic)
formally codified bona fied religions
unknowingly, tacitly, silently rendering
quintessential premises obliging
layperson to foreswear locally rooted secular treatises
trounced, trumpeted unction voided
wishy washy antithetical blind faith coalescing edicts
over course of time became established
Greco-Roman imposed group think
disallowing cynics,
diametrically emerging fanatics, skeptics
who (if he/she did not recant
recalcitrant recommended recourse
faced torture amidst throng of madding crowd
as entertainment and forewarning gall
asper those who held steadfast dissimilar views
taught since birth, when citizenry reared
as just a little drummer boy/ girl pipsqueak
taught to stay the course (sans straight and true)
bound without freedom to express contrary aspects
of ways and whyfores, which accepted traditions
controlled each green day
and silent night, wherefore unimaginable ogres
lined straying hip cats
eventually ensnared within warpath,
whence law of the land lend scimitar to smite
any mortal man, woman or child with flaming torches
licking the heretical body electric,
while defiant individuals
left to burn into decimated
charcoal blackened, ashen corpse.
A green day is seen as the sun rises up from the East horizon
The green day which every farmer desire to encounter each and every day,
Day by day as his crops sprout from his tilled land,
The land which he went through toe and nail to acquire,
To acquire that he could have possibly inherited or purchased.
A green day dusk upon the dry elm trees,
The trees which the birds perch and rest on their nests,
The nests which bear the young ones and which they are raised.
A green day rises upon a beautiful nation,
The nation which bears the green colour from the aerial view,
The green which represents agriculture,
Agriculture which thrives best in its economy,
The agriculture which is the backbone of the country,
The agriculture which is the best subject for a student,
The student who burns midnight oil to achieve his success.
The green day band performs music in a concert,
The concert which is packed to the brim,
Brim in which water must be filled to be adequate,
Adequate to water the green vegetables.
ALAFFIA EVERYDAY COCONUT SHAMPOO
Yours truly (me)
just an ordinary primate from the human zoo,
who while ambling along
the boulevard of broken dreams on a Green Day
(just me and my shadow)
I experienced unexpected lionizing flattery
courtesy Pink Floyd,
he went ape and shouted "hey you"
out there in the cold
getting lonely, getting old
but honest to dog,
I took the road less traveled
unexpectedly encountering
fire breathing creatures
imagine dragons puffing
at these lovely bones
that constitute a generic guy,
a madding crowd qua at least one
with multiple talking heads
quite frightful harried styled beastly yahoo
primitive creature obsessed with "pretty stones"
popularized by Jonathan Swift
in the fourth section of Gulliver's Travels
trying their damndest to woo
yours truly, an aging baby boomer
and long haired styled pencil necked geek
he/him even extended
an invitation to their next venue
to frolic in the autumn mist
in a land called Honah Lee,
hence methought to spruce myself up
to undergo a major makeover
courtesy Salon Nova beauty technician,
and in one fell swoop
off went approximately a dozen inches
of mine lovely brunette locks of love
(tinged with natural gray),
and upon getting
to the house at Pooh Corner
I swiftly tailored mine appearance
showering and sudsing hair
with aforementioned product
(videre licet title of poem)
suddenly unconditionally loving
the new Matthew Scott Harris
immediately accepting an awesome
handsome kickass transformation
awash with true value,
especially after liberally appling
Eco Style Olive Oil Styling Gel
with damp hands quite a challenge,
but cap I did eventually unscrew
ready to rock and roll with the Monkeys
(with other artists... Guess Who)
at a rave in Timbuktu,
whereat paparazzi snapped pictures
asking me to stand still as a statue
encased within a stone wall
(think Andrew J. Jackson)
unexpectedly espying my likeness
in the next issue
of classy fashion magazine
nothing but accolades
with stunning breathtaking photographs
populated the Harris review.
Rather than crank up the heat...
and ratchet up global warming
like bubbling vegetable stew
with tsk... tsk... heard
courtesy Greta Thunberg,
who would utter "how dare you..."
I bundle with layers to stave off cold
energy efficiency drilled courtesy
me late mother conserving
nonrenewable resources she extolled
now ewe best heed following suggestion
wool worth 3d printing than wearing
a sheep doubled over
along dotted line to fold
cuz expending (fossil fuel)
leaving carbon footprint
would immediately being lectured
by ecology conscious eldest daughter,
(a University of Pennsylvania
biomedical engineering alumna)
who would mildly scold.
Myself and thee missus holed up
here within Highland Manor Apartments
(unit B44 in case you wanna drop me a line)
we're here moost every cold December day
sipping warm cup
of our favorite beverage
exotic coffee latte brew
suits this muttering pup
actually yours truly
a doggone ole
long haired pencil necked geezer.
He can be found moost any given warm Green Day
shuffling along boulevard of broken dreams
overhead skies colored rosy gunmetal gray
occasional huff fro zen cloud slashing solar ray
heating inside cozy nook,
though outside temperature brisk,
nevertheless for winter quite balmy
while I sit here heavily clad,
hence yours truly quite toasty within
perfect weather for wedding,
especially one hashtagged December/May.
After dusk i.e. established misnomer known as sunset
occurs 4:36 Post Meridiem heavens quickly turn jet
black today - Thursday, December 10, 2020 (EST)
whereby darkness lulls one into sleepiness, I bet
dollars to donuts impossible mission
to keep eyelids opened, particularly if sleep debt
necessary to pay the sandman,
who knows maybe you gotta get get
comfortably numb vis a vis temporarily unconscious
state, whereby dreaming of a white Christmas
analogous to eventual Elysian Fields,
where divine creator
conjuring Nirvana and/or
a place called Willoughby
if a believer, said Almighty eventually met.
Engulfed in the smouldering dusk of a fractured nation,
A voice claws through the cracks of static screens,
And suppressed speakers,
A distorted hymn for the disenchanted,
A battle cry for the misled.
The people in power berate us with
Propaganda and paranoia pumped into our living rooms,
From the television with a cacophony of curated fear,
A scaremongering symphony creating a state of compliance.
“Don’t wanna be an American idiot,
Don’t want a nation under the new media,
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mind America.”
The words spit like sparks from a severed wire,
A requiem for the deferred,
And truth seekers are emancipated with the enlightenment of electrifying lyrics.
As voices are drowned in the deafening cheers,
Green Day plays on, dropping truth bombs,
Broadcasting rebellion,
Sparking conversations,
Immortalized as an international calling card from the woke.
The deceitful lies within the American flag dissolve,
Like a politician’s fading promise,
Its stars drip, evaporating the hopes of tomorrow,
Its stripes in disarray,
Yet from the decay came awareness.
Bringing hope for generations
With a chorus that rallies us on repeat,
A political opera that refuses to die in vain.
Live 8
The Black Eyed Peas and a green, Green Day;
I want this day to last forever, thank Bob for giving us Live 8.
A day of great bands, playing all their best songs;
From Bono and McCartney, through to Snoop Doggy Dogg.
All over the world, great bands play great songs;
We all know the words, so come on sing along.
Some people are pants; some become great human beings.
One day of your life, dedicated to the revolution.
Television to the world, a united way of thinking;
We must all join in, to find a solution.
A whole day of music, for a world with one feeling;
To tell your fellow man, to keep on believing.
One day we will end this and make Africa one great nation;
Sir Bob showed us the way, now we must start the revolution.
Twenty four hours of music, is a gift to the world;
It will enlighten any mind, but you can't forget the cause.
You can't have a great day and forget the dying boys and girls;
Because one moment will affect you,
It will soon change your world.
Some people are pants; some become great human beings.
One day of your life, dedicated to the revolution.
Television to the world, a united way of thinking;
We must all join in, to find a solution.
A kid gets to his feet, to not die in front of his sister;
There lays a baby, just waiting to die.
Without Bobs irate temper and the visions of Africa;
I would have felt nothing, I wouldn't have cried.
Then they showed a girl, who was so close to death;
If we all did nothing, she wouldn't be here now.
But Live Aid gave her life, helped her take a deep breath;
One vision of human beauty, as she looks out at the crowd.
This incredible woman, would not have grown to become a woman;
We would have denied the world, of such a beautiful face.
I would have never, seen such a beautiful angelic image;
Now I see her as a vision. Human being’s saving grace.
Some people are pants; some become great human beings.
One day of your life, dedicated to the revolution.
Television to the world, a united way of thinking;
We must all join in, to find a solution.
(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Ode to Berkeley TBC
I grew up in Berkeley, my spiritual home.
I grew up in the 60’s crazy time.
No matter where in the world I might roam,
Berkeley always center of my space time.
Berkeley is the center of everything
Berkeley is what it is, a special place
Berkeley is a special place, a special city
To Berkeley, California I sing
It has always been there, my special home base
Berkeley is gritty and also pretty.
Berkeley has always been in its own zone
Berkeley at times is stuck in a time warp
Berkeley is my home, foundation stone
At times Berkeley is stuck in a warp
In Berkeley it is always the 60s
A city stuck in time and in the past
Berkeley is a very expensive town
But sometimes it is also the 80s
Berkeley holds on to its values steadfast
Berkeley use to be a very blacktown.
Berkeley is a city with many hills
I graduate from Berkeley High
I grew up in the Berkeley foothills
Berkeley is foggy, seldom a blue sky
Berkeley is a city of such music
The best band ever, tower of power
Also home of such great bands like green day
All kinds of music except country music
There is no band better than the tower
In the end Berkeley is a city by the bay.
These days belong to snow and cold.
The leaden heart, the ashen skies
Conspire with the dark
That steals the hours daily
Settles us into unquiet peace.
Showing sense,
Creatures burrow down into their dens
Slip into their deathlike sleeps.
If we could, we'd follow them,
Down into our inner deeps
To dream away the darkness
'Til the first new leaf awakens, unfolding
To greet the first green day again.
But this is not our way,
So we walk, half conscious,
Treading lightly as we can;
Our Mother resting now,
This is the time to wait
The time to watch over her,
To stand sentinel beside her Consort,
That wildeyed one who fills the shadows,
Burns in blackness between the stars
That shine like ice in silent, absolute Command.
When the Christians hold their Candlemas
We'll light our tapers too.
Within ourselves and across the lands
The light will spread
As the neverending game of Life and Death,
Of Love and Loss,
Is taken up again.
The Wheel rolls on,
My Brethren, my Loves -
Even in the silent dark.
Whisper to one another the words you'll wish you'd said, later
One to another through the sleeping silence
'Til Imbolq comes, my Brethren,
'Til Imbolq comes, my Loves.
I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
It's not easy to give up a dream.
In fact, I can't do it.
The burning hunger never dies
Even as the times and locations change
Into horrifying masks,
Irrecognizable from your short-sighted expectations.
The stupefying trick of life being: You propose a gift to yourself.
In return you get the blending colors of your painted dreams;
The self-alterating unconscious,
The man behind the wheel who has no notion
Of a wheel in front of him.
He's too busy dreaming of the moment
He drives the car into the open green day
To realize there's never
Been a lack of motion,
A lack of a wheel,
A lack of an open road.
You dream in black and white
As you live in profound color.
A magnet to passion
Entangled as you are
By a lurid and wondrous grief.
The grief of infinite options
As you turn the wheel once again:
Here plows you through your garden of troubles
Smile and rejoice and love man's holy rubble.
You dream your own magic.
So stay true, keep bold,
And declare your own flag.
And, yes, it may burn through the night.
But the night is cold, and dark, and good.