Long Without thinking Poems
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I made myself microscopic,
to fit in their pockets,
so they could pull me out
only when they needed something fixed.
I learned to fold my edges,
to stop scratching,
to stop taking up space,
to hold myself quiet, pliable, small.
I became a tool,
a shadow,
a body that existed
only in the shape they required.
I forgot
what it felt like to move freely,
to take up space
without thinking I was too much.
Sometimes I wanted to scream,
but I folded the sound inside,
pressed it into my chest
so no one would feel the weight
of what I carried.
Sometimes my voice felt borrowed,
like it belonged to someone else,
and I was only the body
that moved when they needed me.
Sometimes I let myself feel it—
the hollow spaces I carried inside,
the parts of me I tucked away
so no one would be burdened
by how much I took up.
I counted every gesture,
every word, every laugh,
measuring how small I could be
so they wouldn’t notice
that I was here.
I became skilled at disappearing,
at giving everything
and never being seen
for anything that was mine.
I don’t want to be her again—
the girl who disappears,
so they can feel comfortable,
the one who shrinks herself
to be useful, not loved.
—to be continued—
Part two is called 'finally wanted'.
18.49
“The sage does whatever
appears to be done
without thinking of good or bad
His actions are those of a child”
Heart over head
Agendaless exuberance
No talks with Ted
Childlike innocence
(23-August-2019)
~~~
Verse 18.49 revisited on 11-February-2022
As we pause
The cause
Of thought
Ego begot
Bliss enters
Heart canters
Going without fuss
Where God takes us
As joy currents spear
There is no one here
Save essence of presence
Vibrancy of innocence
Love suffused
No longer bemused
Thought and action
Employs love for traction
With pure intent
Heart luminescent
There is no karma
For love’s our dharma
How to write a bad poem.
Use words that simply rhyme like time and dime,,,
And line after line after line repeat the same line
Repeat your sentences to repeat your point
Without a true interpreter then what is the point!!!
I put no thought into lines without care.
I do not care if tHisss is spelled correctly; I do not care.
I do not care if you even care;
Without love and despair, poets will go nowhere.
Annoy the reader, reader, reader, reader, send them to sleep;
Speak only about other people’s cliché’s and ideals…and sheep.
Say line after line without thinking to read,
Judge someone for their mistakes. Never be truthful and never free.
Never let the words fall onto the page, without feeling;
Never bother to read other poetry and never bother to try reading.
Never speak from the soul, without any kind of meaning.
This is the poem I do not care about…it’s time I was leaving.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Standing, thinking without thinking of anything ...
I hear the music calling me!
- Come, appreciate the sound ...
come, come boy, come dance ...!
I didn't believe what I heard ... did I?
- Come, boy, come and dream while you can ...
I am sure you still can ... come dance!
Just imagine life is so delightful... if the
we say glad and fortunate...
- Why are you so afraid...? choreography?
every gesture, every sway, every way
it's choreography ... dance!
Dance with me ... I'm yours ...
If you love me, I love you too ...
If you adore me, I adore you ...
I belong to all and for all ...
I'm a music lady ... so come
dancing ... it's not the last tango,
nor the final music ... it's just
a diverting moment ...
Come and relish silly ...
Come and delight ...!
We the People
By Franklin Price
03/20/2020
We the people of this great USA
Are facing Coronavirus today
Coming together by staying away
Stops the transmission, holds infection at bay
If you must go to obtain any needs
Wash your hands often, that's where virus breeds
Cough in your elbow, keep it contained
Shaking hands with another, should now be refrained
Believe in the system, it still is the same
Must adapt to conditions, to play a smart game
This is not Armageddon, matters not what you think
This is not the Titanic, going down in the drink
The stock market's falling, investors not cool
Profit takers, not smart, and are playing the fool
To sell in abandon, drives the whole market down
You hurt the economy, and look like a clown
Money's not all, it is not everything
To trade without thinking, a depression will bring
Will hurt this great country, it may even fall
To trade on a virus, is not smart at all
This could be the black plague, if we tried to ignore
Won't be very long, we can open the door
Return to what's normal, for you and for me
Just have some patience, and soon you will see
I could go on further, but this is the gist
Think for yourself, of the things I have missed
The tunnel's not dark, there is light at the end
Be smart in your thinking and actions my friend
If you appreciate what this has to say, please get it around to everyone you know, by any means you have available to you. We, the USA, and the world, need to work together to get through this without crashing everything.
gentle slivers of His muse,
destined for the earth –
painting a silence on the spirit
with the burst of lifelike trembling,
the wonder of nature’s breath
poured out over the night,
caressing the lasting grace with one finger
who remembers what it means to love,
one whisper who feels the light
piercing the moments with a sense of laughter
who rearranges the miracles of nature
so they bleed out warmth across the twilight seas
coloring each oak with a presence of joy
the aching stars, withered by the snow –
intimate as the glorious rhythms,
guitar’s shadows reveal the intensity of lonely,
forcing me to see past the silence
into the peace, the serenity
fading beneath the pines, intertwined –
with the music who breathes
like a melancholy seed, glistening with grief
always knowing what it means
to just believe, to see beyond the rivers of need,
into the still who glows in the forests,
the soothing that touches each wind,
the rhythm of hope who agrees with the spirit
lingering in this aching impression,
the wonder unfolding, the lessons
expressing what it is to sing like the wrens,
to fight with the night, in the silhouettes
there is a beautiful who will win,
a secret who will never sin, the innocence
ivory flakes,
falling so they touch the notes,
falling so they learn to hope,
falling so they pray, like grace
falling, so they’re forever amazing
and, always praising –
just praising…
ivory flakes, crooning while in flight
a silence who delights,
sharing the intimacy of a spirit
who can never be remembered
without thinking – God is with us,
He is sending love, a powerful love
who destroys the darkness,
silences the doubt
and offers the heart room
to reach out –
pressing through the shadows,
alive, a passion
reaching beyond the suspicions,
to the music of His appearing
the mystery of His song
carried on ivory flakes,
singing all the night long,
singing the notes of God’s song,
capturing the rhythm of love
and remembering the light
whispers through the thoughts,
caressing the pulsing colors
blowing on winds of knowing,
with God, true love is flowing
and inside, our hope is growing.
Many years have slipped beneath the tide of time, yet still I remember.
I was just a youth, standing high above the world from Ocean Towers in Downtown Kingston, gazing out toward the pier, when my eyes caught sight of her. A woman, moving with eerie calm, made her way down Duke Street. There was something in the way she walked , not hurried, not lost, but as if drawn by an unseen force, a quiet resolve no one else could hear.
She reached the water’s edge and, without pause, stepped in.
And then she went under.
My heart seized.
Without thinking, I threw myself down the flights of stairs, taking them three, four at a time, frantic, breathless, desperate to save her from herself. But I was too late. My effort, though full of fire, was futile. She had already surrendered to the sea.
I was only seventeen, maybe eighteen.
Too young to understand.
But old enough to be haunted.
I stood on that shoreline, wind in my face, searching for something, anything that could make sense of what I had just seen.
Why would she do that?
Was it fear that led her into the water?
A mind unraveling beneath too much weight?
Or maybe, just maybe, it was her final cry,
a silent scream to a world that had long since stopped listening.
To this day, I don’t know what tomorrow holds.
No one does.
But this, I’ve come to understand:
I owe it to myself to rise. From every fall.
To blaze a path forward, even if it cuts through shadow and sorrow.
To carve something worthy from the ruins.
No matter how far I have been flung...
through fire, through flood, through hurricane and mud,
now this is hell.
And yes, I’ve known its fire and brimstone
I’ve learned this:
Not a brother man can save you.
Blood thicker than water ,,but at times, it doesn’t count.
Dracula drinking blood, fingers sore, do you know the scorè?
Elusive, illusion , dragon slim or stout.
Shut the mouths, there's a way out.
Even if I have to claw...
kicking in every door,
crawl, bleeding and bruised
I will find out.
Because somewhere beyond the flame,
there is life.
And I intend to walk toward it.
Because I know this truth....
I am nothing until I make myself something.
You do not possess the power to do it for me.
Only, and solely, me.
Stimulating ideas pop into your head
You need a pen…you need a piece of lined paper
It looks like you’re outtah luck…no wonder you’re drowning in dread
You need a shoulder to lie your head down for a moment’s rest…
You need a helper…to aid you while you struggle emotionally…
I’m not trying to irritate you purposely
Try with all your might…try your best
To stay optimistic and fervent
I believe that you’ll pass the test
Be upbeat, kindhearted and jubilant
I appreciate the words you wrote on my notebook…
Sometimes, I feel like leftovers left on the counter…
I’m a rotten mess – you’re leaving me as if I’m an uninteresting book
Sometimes, I feel like a coward – I don’t mean to bother…
But, you’re like no other . . .
You’re like a mat – you’re constantly stepped on…
I’m like YOUR unwanted tool –
I stepped on you and
Pushed your buttons
I accused you of being the fool
When, in fact, I’m the fool by your side…
You’re drifting…pushing me aside…
I’m writing words of truth though –
Expressing how much I’m fond of you
I esteem your presence
Glowing with glee
At times, you do say things without thinking
I’m the god of distress –
You’re leaving me breathless
Cutting me down like I’m some decaying tree
You don’t see how much you make me…
Guilty for your crimes
Taking the blame about the hundredth time
At times, I feel that I’m awkward when I’m around you
You’re like a backpack – you carry everyone’s weight…
You’re like a sponge – soaking in our stress
I’m a distraction to you – you’re wasting valuable time…but don’t hesitate
I’m writing words of self-centered feelings – logic doesn’t exist…
But these feelings aren’t as bad as committing a crime
These feelings come and go – I just had to confess
I didn’t mean to screw up your progress…
Hey, if you need a few sheets of paper to right on,
Use me like a notebook instead…and write with all your might
It seems as if you read me…like a book that drags on and on
Use me as your tool of relaxation… and read me all night
When you wrote those words on my notebook…
It made my day…you’re such a delight
Like reading a fascinating, classic book
Friendships That End
Friends are the people
who find you in the middle of a storm,
with hurricanes raging all around you,
and even when all they have
is a single umbrella,
they hold it over you.
They become your shelter.
The place you can return to
when the world feels unbearably heavy.
The ones who make you hot chocolate
on your grayest days,
who sit beside you for hours
just to listen,
even while carrying
their own storms in silence.
They love you
for who you are,
not for what you can give them.
And I miss my friends.
I miss belonging
to a little world of my own.
A place where I could be myself
without thinking twice,
where they could be themselves
without ever feeling like
they were too much.
I miss the freedom
of walking out the door
and knowing someone would be there,
ready to come with me.
Even if all I had to offer
was my sadness.
Because somehow,
they always knew what to do with it.
They would sit beside me
through the grayest afternoons,
turning sorrow into laughter
without ever asking it to leave.
And maybe that’s what I miss most:
having people
I never had to ask to stay,
because somehow,
they simply did.
People who made me feel
that being alone
was a choice,
not a sentence.
Empty race
That's what they want us to run
Running aimlessly, living like slaves
Wandering around planet earth
Working without earning
Living without thinking
So we won't be aware
Of the poor infrastructure, political instability, corruption, institutional weaknesses etc
They always abuse our potential
They know the dirty games they play
Creating chaos and fear to give News
Trying to be our muse
Just to lead and misuse us
But our senses we always put into use
We are always feeling good
Even when they belittle or neglect us.
If you've never
Been seen as nobody
You can never be somebody
Not all shame lame or tame you
Some are triggers for your growth
Stay strong; so you can break yokes.