Long Unbelieved Poems
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Life alone unloved is a life unlived.
Do we dare let the truth go unbelieved,
The truth that Love is the only real guide,
Leaves the choice; to keep running or to hide.
To run and shadow your own existence
Is to turn guard dogs on your sentience.
To pretend that this happiness will last,
We only need the wind behind the mast.
To deny the storm in its wild dance.
Or hide in the dark cave of avoidance.
To find respite from the burning daylight.
That will not be allowed, that is not right.
The right path will force you to be brave.
You will be dragged out of that lonely cave.
To be trampled by wild horses of grief.
The jealous men act on their own belief,
But come to mar your sensitivity.
And hang you for your inactivity.
You cannot shelter from this daily chore.
To embrace the pain is the only law.
Accept the world with a fragile embrace.
Its how the sullen moon sees this dark place.
From a distance through eternal darkness.
Swirling around unwilling to caress.
Those who entertain Love, choose a quarrel,
Two great hammers pounding on raw metal,
That forge and shape an invisible chain.
That will hold you in this dungeon of pain.
But those who deny love disallow bliss.
Left the doubt of an unrequited kiss.
In my heart, a reliquary, gather teeth that do not belong to me,
but are those of voices I swallowed out of politeness, unwillingly,
they echo in silence like relics of a gentler, forgotten violence,
and I polish them with guilt until they shine like silent confessions.
I tell myself there is beauty in this digestion of thoughts and emotions,
that consuming means transforming, changing essence into silence,
but every night, I wake with a mouth full of unbelieved prayers,
as if my soul seeks to speak unshared truths.
And yet, within this dance of shadows and unlived memories,
I struggle with the ghosts of those words that never belonged to me,
I am an alchemist of my own conscience, seeking to find gold,
in the ashes of promises I never understood, only swallowed.
I place these relics under the pale light of introspection, seeking healing,
but each rattle is a reminder of transformation through forced silence,
and I wonder if I will ever be able to release these captive words,
or if my heart will remain a reliquary of eternal melancholy.
"Colours in a Cloud Speak"
The colours
of a world
speak
no one
has time
to listen
The spectrums
speak like
music, lucid
like clouds
that pulse ultraviolet
in front of you
through wide open
windows, unavoidable,
some strange dream
your eyes see,
but do not
speak
the unbelieved
reels in the
unbelievable
we live
in these odd times
we observe meanings subliminal
that no one else
other than we
in our own moment
believe,
could see
on the peripheral
of even
like odd
evening clouds
in the small hours
that pulse curious
purple, then ultraviolet,
points of calculus
invading our
small space, try reasoning
watching us
as we move in
some strange elusive dream
a beacon
calling us
home,
some strange home
calls us crazy, we are
cats cradles cartwheeling
unreachable
we think, it exists
somewhere else,
other than this,
in the
in between
unseen
we exist
we dream
we try to live
what we see,
is not real,
it’s spun
like fairy floss
in the machinations
of the others' schemes
sugar tastes sweet
addictive, we are lost
in the after taste
wanting more
of what we
know is their drug
what we are taught
from birth to see,
is not the real of reality
our minds are locked
from time of rebirth,
re-entry
into
well-rehearsed territory
birth pains burning
the inevitability,
truth hits us
the gravity glitching
karma circles
Ferris wheels
that stop occasionally
to let us
get on
get off
it could be
realer
than real
the mysterious colour
hidden in clouds
we touch
in our dreams
we are like
comets falling
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
cat's cradle
noun
a child's game in which a loop of string is put around and between the fingers and complex patterns are formed.
Harry Chapin - Cats in the Cradle
I found you in a dream
I found you in a dream . . .
subtly surmised
of this bed sheet warmth,
darkened skies felt,
Lost in silent hours
of a dream
A beauty unbelieved
in flowing night lace
Drinking from the fountain
of every joy I have longed
Aglow where shadows
once traced
Song birds lift
of growing branch,
new leaves in velvet green
shading marigold sighs
falling from morning glory skies,
resting upon my heart
A touch greets
dampened milk paint skin,
salted of time,
weathered in season’s charge
Coated satin emerging,
reclaiming its glisten of youth,
breathing
Whirlwinds gather,
swirls of tapestry, patterns,
floating me on
cut crystal wings a’ shimmer
Soaring into your arms,
a feeling of kite string wisps
as love takes me
to you and
. . . I write you in poetry
Good night Soupers
In earlier year pages
there were the time of sages
prophesying of things to come,
but today, it is the ground that rises to speak of nature spun
the messages of what may yet be if heard without heed
if history remains forgotten and unbelieved.
Rumbles and shockwaves scored
tremble on the land and shores
windswept dreams of magnificent edifices rose then torn
and the sky grayed and clouds were restlessly formed
along the surface of the ocean storms forewarned
to respond in upheaval irretrievable.
Beneath the towers made by man
everyone and everything is washed away to sand
and in the aftermath of the world's demise,
soft somber whimpers scour foolish man's pride
and as it all begins to disappear by fires seared
the empty earth cries.
I know I'm outnumbered
I know I'm not wrong
it's lightning before thunder
lies go speeding on
the truth will take longer
when lies live strong
I felt a pain I couldn't explain
I could to begin with
but each time added strain
each day I would live
isolated but game
but the energy sieved
as I mentally drained
I reached out for hands
was slapped in the face
my spirit was rammed
my brain lost pace
I went to the people
I thought would help me
they showed me evil
disrespect unhealthy
still everyday my life became worse
let down by those closest
choosing to mock as I hurt
so nobody noticed
as I warred to keep work
8 hours each day
more soul wore away
then I'd see mates
who tore more away
I'd go home in the evening
to parents non believing
who always found reason
to give one mental beating
all day each day the opposite of love
unbelieved and unnoticed to shoulder shrugs
to all who don't believe me
I hope you live this
when your life is broken
and your story dismissed!
I HOPE YOU LIVE THIS
and I hope they deem you mad as well
when you're strangled choked and crossing through Hell
I hope you are treated like you story tale
I hope you're the victim who never leaves Hell!
I came back from this, go on walk my trail,
let's see how you fair when living my tale
As none would be, yet still exists,
One who creates a perfect bliss.
So sensational as to be unbelieved;
Yet tales are told as first was seen.
The image there for all to see,
Gave birth to words and epiphanies.
A mind of light and stars and streams.
Connections made and ways believed.
And all upon a head of clouds,
Were seen a million times and how,
All understood the thought as one,
As all never needed a mirage in the sun.
Electric bolts from mind to mind,
Shared all the knowledge of all mankind
And as man all stood on land to view the sky,
Beneath the moon and sun all was clear to the eyes.
At last a chance to see the next footstep in humanity.
A language born a long time ago,
Was able to be used to translate,
And now all into a brighter future can go.
The mind of a hive, a continuous culture.
A change of life; breaking the spell we were under.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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