• Michael Harvey

    The drunken poet danced with fireplugs, Sang of false joy and desperation

  • The drunken poet danced with fireplugs,
    Sang of false joy and desperation
    Down and around that infamous corner,
    While hard men swaggered,
    And willful blackguards staggered
    Back to the waters' edge.
    They longed for soft skin,
    A moment's release, a pretense of love.
    They stood alone.


    How did you cross my path?
    You are a stranger to me,
    Quantity unknown,
    Persona untold.

  • # 1

    Dance with me,
    Before the storms,
    The sorrows.
    Dance fearlessly,
    In howling winds.
    Sing songs unknown.

    Feel the heat:
    Love realized
    Lie quietly
    Among the dunes.
    Sand-swept, windblown.

    The sun is gone

    the stars and moon our only light.

    The sheets, crisp linen.

    From the window, sweet

    Gardenia fills the air.


    And you stand as a silhouette.

    The moon behind you

    White gown drapes your body

    Soft and warm for me, sweet

    Gardenia in your hair...


    Give me your cheek, your lips,

    Yielding tender breasts and more...

    Dance with me, together as

    One, two, three, one, two, sweet

    Gardenias everywhere.


    Bloom now,

    Spread wide.

    The hummingbird seeks

    What the meadow produces -

    A delicate and fragrant flower …


    The root pushes to the ground,

    And the rain will satisfy.

    Ballet at once.


    Different feel:

    Creating form,

    viewing that form,

    photo or vid.


    (Being or

    seeing self.)


    Perhaps that's why

    there are mirrors

    in studios -

    to feel it all.






  • Thoughts and distractions

    As if yesterday remains...


    December 3, 2018
    We laid a pallet on the floor Stretched out Drenched in fragrance There was no Resistance, no Discussion, no Negotiation. Yielding, Accepting, Welcoming. Laid on that pallet on the floor, as one. Add paragraph text here.
    June 25, 2015
    The heliocentric cabaret brought music of the spheres, The Roma's violin sang Czardas to our ears, Laughing, cruel fanatics added reason to our fears, But those winds are gone. The night is long. The shadows of our yesterdays are really not our past, We thought the noticed moments of our...
  • It was a sweet song:
    Your name was in it.
    Two birds sang the melody.

    Beat Poet


    Jan 2013 – Present


    Of what shall we speak,
    And of what shall we remain silent,
    Never whisper unto the sea
    Or gesture into the morning's fog?

    I listen to the silence.
    Can you hear?

    M. Harvey Multidiscipline Arts

    Self employed 

    Nov 2012


    Writing, performance artist, consulting, trading, creating, photography, eclectic marketing, rare books.


    Iconoclast sans frontières.


    There is no limit to the mind.

    Allied Electronics

    Account Manager, Internet Marketing Specialist. 

    Nov 2004 – Jan 2013



    Master Distributors

    Internet Market Coordinator 

    2001 – 2004


    Client relations, web guidance and advisor

    California Switch & Signal

    Marketing research, audio and recording consultant 

    1984 – 2001


    Profiler, Music recording and mastering, video and film.



    Shadows, like sand:
    Passing strangers

    sing of sweet sorrows
    on this road to

    THE END.









    University of Texas, Austin

    BS Chemical Engineering

    BBA Marketing 

    1971 - 1977



    Thomas Jefferson H. S.

    Dallas, Texas

     1962 - 1964



  • Links

    Elsewhere, I might be found.








    You Tube


    The Hunger Site



    Children International

    Children International

  • Endorsements


    Louise Brough

    Writer and historical research

    To endorse you--really--I would say you are a fine gentleman...a man on whom one can truly and fully depend, in time of joy and in time of crises. One who has my back....and one who can soothe my soul, who through
    some divine prompting can uplift my spirits, one who has knowledge, who thinks usually before he speaks, whose intelligence and well-read information never ceases to amaze me. Your integrity and focus are qualities I feel sure are an integral part of you. All those qualities make you the person you are, and thus, your skills and expertise
    simply are a given...true, honed by years of "practice" and diligence on your part. One should not forget...your great humor and sense thereof.
    And lest I forget...your wonderful poetry....


    M. H. is an amazing man. His talents know no bounds, his mind stirs the
    creativity in his soul that pours words out onto paper or visions onto
    canvas or any other media available to him. He has a beautiful eye that
    sees life and recreates it for all to see and realize earth's beauty
    through his creative interpretation. I am grateful to have known this
    man for more years than I care to mention. I highly recommend M. H. for
    his talents, as his work will validate.

    Tom Domino

    CEO at Currently Retired

    Michael is an outstanding team member and person. He is honest, very reliable and creative, especially. He is very likeable and comfortable dealng with multinational cultures. I have enjoyed working with Michael these past 8 plus years and highly recommend him.

    Michelle Riley

    Quality Specialist II at AE Petsche, An Arrow Electronics Company

    Michael is a intelligent, self-motivated, energetic individual who is very passionate about his work and those around him. I have worked with Michael for several years and my contact with him has always been positive and enlightening. He is also a team player and he loves helping others. He is an excellent asset to any project.

    Mark Simon

    VP Sales at Allied Electronics

    Michael is a very hard working, creative person who puts a lot of pride in delivering great results. He does his best to understand the goals of his clients and the team. I would strongly recommend Michael for any role he has been given.

  • Notes:

    Notes that floats above the range
    In cities strange, or home
    Where the hip-slip buffalo roam,
    While the tenor man bleeds the reeds
    Until the cows come home.
    Saturday night the show begins
    At ten.
    No cover, two drink min.

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