Thursday, January 23, 2014
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Headed to the publisher!
So, I've finally sent in my poetry book: Stupid Mind Tricks to the publisher.
Upon finalizing tweaking it should be ready for purchase on Amazon and Kindle.
I will put up the order information here soon.
 |
| the proposed cover |
Upon finalizing tweaking it should be ready for purchase on Amazon and Kindle.
I will put up the order information here soon.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Stupid Mind Tricks
Stupid Mind Tricks
by
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.
However...
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
----------------
Loss
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
--------
Privilege
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
--------------
Failure
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
-----------------
Non-Interaction
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
----------------------------
Thank you for previewing this section!
This is a work of Pauly Hart
Copyright by Pauly Hart
All rights by Pauly Hart
BUY THE FULL BOOK TODAY!
----------------------------
by
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.
However...
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
----------------
Loss
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
--------
Privilege
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
--------------
Failure
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
-----------------
Non-Interaction
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
----------------------------
Thank you for previewing this section!
This is a work of Pauly Hart
Copyright by Pauly Hart
All rights by Pauly Hart
BUY THE FULL BOOK TODAY!
----------------------------
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