Monday, November 1, 2010

Stupid Mind Tricks

Stupid Mind Tricks


Pauly Hart

All words by Pauly Hart unless noted

Copyright 2010


The other day

He gave up and laid his head down on the keyboard.
For some reason or another the words just wouldn't come.
It was a huge block, and unlike others,
had lingered for more than a month.
Over and over he had tried to conjure something up...
but nothing was forthcoming.

He had become a dry well.
The fears of his fathers oil-drilling days now lived on in him.
However, this was no dryness of the earth.
This was the dryness of his very soul.
Waterless. Dusty. Parched and dry.


Copyright 2010 by pauly hart


We are voices

We are voices
whispering, screaming.
Nameless voices,
crying out for love.
Listlessly, relentlessly,
dexterously climbing,
treading the surface,
wanting the outpour.
Breathe on us...
we cry at night.
Heal our land,
we face our fright.
We are the voices
whispering, dying,
treading the surface.
Breathe on us...
we cry, we cry.

Copyright 2010 by pauly hart



I was yelling at the old man of the sea
Telling him to rightfully give back to me
I did not know that he had won you fair and square
I had no knowledge of your bet with that old man
I would let you go much easier my friend
Had I known of your old bet with that old man
I am cursing at the old man of the sea

Copyright 2010 by pauly hart



And as many as cast him down

He shall rise to face again

Though many cast him down

He takes on all mighty blows

For as many as cast him down

He will rise to come again

Save one who casts him down

and that one who lives inside

For when that one casts him down

He shall lay prostrate on the ground

Copyright 2010 by pauly hart



You failed my tired spirit
You failed
Like a bitch in heat you cry
You lied
Like a dripping faucet annoying
I tried
Like a maddened axe man throwing
I tried
Like blind conductors call
You suck
Every fiber in my soul it seems
You failed
You failed me
If I tried way too hard
Than it is not my fault

Copyright 2010 by pauly hart



As I lay awake in bed
At night I realize just what
this is to be awake
and wanting the incredible
mind numbing mental stimuli
of this screen mentality
called the vision of the telepaths
In this state, I seldom
rest my mind on what my friends
are doing, where my family is
what the affairs of my pocketbook are
or what my place is in this world
I just want to watch T.V.

I have been lured into this
false perception of reality in thinking
I have had the goggles of
madness affixed onto my face
I am afraid of who I am
I must escape, escape, escape
Springer, Seinfeld, Friends and Alf
These false realities are persuasive
But these persuasive realities are false
I lay awake, awake I lay
and toss and turn and think
About laying in my bed awake.
in the late night and think:
"I am awake"

But I so crave this insatiable
spirit crushing mind drug
of my monitor in space
launching into a fantasy realm
where bad is arbitrary
and good is circumstantial
It is in this ashtray that my soul lingers
The conversation killer
The friend of the damned

I have been hooked, lined
sunk and beached
into this slough of despond
And I wither, growing faster and slower
And chuckling all the way
For this life is not my life
So I enjoy it better, but
am not the better for it.
I sink, I sink, I sink

A brave new world, THX 1138
Blade Runner and Fahrenheit 451
Max Headroom and 1984
The Television is the chiller of my core
I take it upon myself to place blame
I take it up-on myself to be shamed
I bring it towards myself. I enflame.
I place it inside myself. A new brain.

I have found this life interesting.
Much more so than my own.
I am quick to recognize nothing.
I am slow to absorb life's transmissions.
When the televisions are so much easier.
I sing their songs, feel their pain.
Believe their lies, purchase their products.
Make good on their warranties and
then watch the re-runs.

This non interactive virtual reality
talks all day long. It is impossible.
It is incredible. It is preposterous.
It is an insane waste of time.
Television pillages the heart.
Television rapes the mind.
I must believe in television
For if I do not and am not like them
Then I am a loser, and there is
something wrong with me.

Copyright 2010 by pauly hart


No, it's my pleasure

Take from this tree all that can be
I give it up to you in submission
Glean from it's branches
Take all it gives
Use it in a way that is worthy
Really, I insist
Cut it up if you wish
Cord it out for fire
So that you may keep warm
It's no problem at all
Take from it every necessity
And even it's fruit is yours
It doesn't matter
It's only my soul
It's only my love

Copyright 2010 by pauly hart


The confrontation of conniption.

what you can gain in a lifetime

you can lose in a moment

what you can see in the morning

you can lose in the night

what someone can talk you into

some one can talk you out of

and what you can accept in emotion

you can lose in logic

Copyright 2010 by pauly hart


Scarred Face

It's your saving grace
That comes over me
It's your loving face
That's all I see
It's your hiding place
That I run to

It's your love, your love, your love.

It's my face
That scares the children
It's my laugh

That makes them scream
It's my love
That makes me famous

It's my love, my love, my love.

I will come
To you my lover
I will come
To you tonight
I will climb in
To your garden

I will come, will come, will come.

No one could you like me
You cannot hide from me
I will come unto thee
When the night comes to the trees


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This is a work of Pauly Hart

Copyright by Pauly Hart

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