Long No rest for the wicked Poems
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No sleep when your heart is aching
The ache is constant the hurt doesn't beat
You live with needles in your skin, constant throbbing
The memories of him playing over and over
Twisting and turning no sleep tonight... again ...father why?
I want to erase the memories...run away from this agony ...I want this to end
No sleep...just tears and pain... I don't want to live here, drunken in anguish twisting and turning no rest for the wicked...haunted by his face , he's sleeping next to his new mate...and me just here ,I want to die ...twisting and turning pray for peace within....restless...sleepless
Can I be exonerated
For the crimes I never commited?
There’s no one to ask, I’m afraid
Which doesn’t make me uplifted
And its nowhere to go, I’m unseen
Cause my passport is shining too bright
Unwelcomed, I see the screen
But never I saw the light,
Of that special hour, before the evening
Covers your land, my reader
No rest for the wicked, believe me
Wicked isn’t me, but a leader
Of lemmings with human faces
Though I don’t belong to that file
I never cared for rat races
But for you I’m of common pile
Concerning about your peace
You cannot see what you’re not shown
It’s not an eyesight disease
But a mental thing, still unknown.
The good and true know rest and peace
Simple because without selfish intent
They can lay their burdens down
Moment by moment and so enjoy
The endless journey.
The bad and false know no rest
Because driven by desire
There is no satisfaction
And so their path
Becomes an endless wheel of suffering.
One is like a still pond
In which you can see your clear reflection,
The other a swift rapid
Making waves and turbulent eddies
At every turn.
One knows peace effortlessly
The natural byproduct of life in harmony,
The other knows it only as a dream
Something strived for
But never attained.
(10/26/25)
Its every person for himself, step on & step up kind of world.
That is what we are are taught, at the thought our lips become curled.
At first until it hurts, until we see that there is no remorse for the weak.
The concept grows stronger with every lash on the cheek.
Burning through our veins as we feel it seep.
Silence is golden, like syrup bitter sweet.
Survival of the fittest its you or its me.These are the values we to begin to teach.
We throw our morals & standards so far beyond our reach.
No thank you my humanity and my sanity that goes along with all of it i would like to keep.
Climbing up the ladder, stepping on those i used to dream with, nah.... that price seems a little steep
No rest for the wicked, shutting your eyes the guilt begins to creep.
I would rather rest my head, gaily counting little baked sheep.
I will keep spreading the love , i shall reap what i have sown.
And then gladly smoke what i have grown.
Blowing your concepts up in smoke.
You try to explain but you choke.
On the things that you have done.
Just to be the one on the power end of the gun.
It doesn't matter in the end you will be who you are , who you were that's it!
Not who you could have been or should have been. No! only who you are! No ****!
So even if you wanted to break free from the routined tendency.
Just try to stop or alter the cycle of destiny.
You couldn't, wouldn't step out of your pretentious power trip comfort zone.
No you wouldn't blaze it up and blow it out like a cyclone.
Double clutch over your shoulder.
Tell yourself its because you are a soldier.
Pfffftt okay! You carry on with the way it seems you do you these days.
We all know each game has its players and their set of ways.
So you carry on with your step on step up double standard.
I will just fluff the humble in my coat and shy away from slander.
Two sides of a coin, positive to negative its contemporary.
We are who we are who we are ,meant to be! It is all part of the bigger picture, so puff puff pass its only temporary!
The world drowns us in problems
Then expects us to breathe solutions
In a society that demands whispers of lullabies rocking them to sleep
Whilst we deal with the havoc they wreak
Safe in the silence of their homes
Black women have to deal with the chaos outside alone
The white man's mess becomes the black persons job
Our pay - racism
Seems familiar, reminds you of anything
Maybe, a modern day version of slavery
No rest for the wicked they say
So why are the oppressors still sleeping
The good are punished
The evil rewarded
I guess we just live in a one-sided system
Where being a victim, makes you a villain
Our worth determined by how much blood we pour
The more we bleed, the more we are adored
Our pain is entertainment, they'll never get bored
For them it's like a cure for the common cold
Like an answer to all the world's problems
For them we are a sacrificial lamb
Something to feed off of, then be rid of the scraps
The story of our lives
Used then are blamed for our cries
Then are denied of our rights
To be humans not slaves
The rope Hangs, still
A weapon to kill
It knew its job -
It's purpose, it's will
Yet despite that fact, this gave it no thrill
Even though its job was evil
For centuries, alone
It hung from many trees
Travelled through generations,
Seen as continuation
A prophecy, for the white man,
This his legacy
No rest for the wicked
A common phrase whispered
No way to defend
No way to end
Used an abused -
Seen as only a tool for oppression
But -
If one looked closer
It would show a reality
Not of enjoyment
But entrapment
Frayed edges,
Barely holding on
To a life of just being a weapon
But this is not a want
It hates stolen freedom
It wishes it didn't take life from black people
A witness to corruption
Of lies witnessed
No one will listen when a rope tries to talk
No one will hear the truth or who's at fault
It fatigue doesn't reside with the victim
But of a system filled with insidious problems
It has harmed, it has damaged
Done the unspeakable
Not of its own accordance
But of the oppressors forcefullness
Without a body, without legs and arms
Who is to believe a man made weapon
Instead of Blaming a creation, wouldn't logic ensue to the creator
After all what is a weapon without its wielder
Without the guide of a finger to pull the trigger
It becomes as harmless as a paper tiger
Continuous
From the second I awaken until the oblivion of death,
There is no rest for the wicked, I regret what I said;
But never the intentions or things I never mentioned,
Because they were not worthy of being spoken, only being questioned.
Until I am dead I shall fight for this cause.
Love is yours and mine and us all.
It belongs to us, creates and irritates us,
But still in the end it all comes down to love.
Life is by design a curious creator.
Life is worth trying to reach the ever-after.
People and politics don’t mix.
Tell me your truth and I will show you their laughter.
(C)2022 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
"Intermission: Flutterby Reveille"
Impromptu like a moth
pale words flutter out of his
psychodelic mind
curious funny flutterby…
for a second then, I didn't move,
deadpan, I said,
"... try again with some panache, some style"
incredulously, I smiled,
he's tripping guitar leads
counting long-tooth years
and numbers between drum beats
here no rest for the wicked, we...
hear pretty worded poets
walk on tip toe
balancing wet bars
on bipolar tightropes
shaking up and banging upside down
all the pretty snowglobes
In his land of silent muses
driving as he wrote
Singing “Every Little Breeze Seems to Whisper Louise's”
Pushing the envelope
aside, he writes,
retirement is a caged zoo
he gets high on cryptic puzzles
and cracking her
Sudoku
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Breakfast Reveille:
The Angels, “Take a Long Line”
https://youtu.be/4LdZAK2Rfkg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://youtu.be/4bWsbCpCwOg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/angels/rhythmrudegirl.html
No rest for the wicked,
No rest for the broken,
Maternal, Paternal or kind.
No rest for the brave,
No rest for the aimless,
Immature or revolutionary minds.
No rest for the dreamers,
No rest in the nervous systems,
Of the critical, compliant and in line.
No rest for our hearts,
No rest for our instincts,
Survival Mode, pretending to be fine.
No rest from the challenges,
No rest from the inevitable,
Happiness in glimpses, occasionally still moments in the wind's heartbeat.
Rest from the inability to calm,
Rest from the parts that are wounded,
A person who matters lies underneath.
Rest from the speed of it,
Rest from force fed consumption,
Attachments brewing, to be laid down to breathe.
Rest from overworking,
Rest from unemployment,
Freedom possible, though the mountain steep.
Rest from lack of forgiveness,
Rest from judgement and projection,
Comprehension and kindness resting at our feet.
True Solitude
Days disappear in never ending solitude
No rest for the wicked the night calls me
But I do not seek approval of the multitude
A few choice things have I always perused
Only ideals will be able to set my soul free
Days disappear in never ending solitude
A reckless course abandoned, now ensued
No it's not a cry for help, not even a plea
But I do not seek approval of the multitude
Looking now the words seem somewhat rude
Not the intention at all, but who will truly see
Days disappear in never ending solitude
Seeing my life now I have become quiet crude
A very costly price for that brief feeling of glee
But I do not seek approval of the multitude
Truths that I seek, my actions also delude
He believes in nothing they coldly decree
Days disappear in never ending solitude
But I do not seek approval of the multitude