Time to put the universe to rights,
I shed my fabric skin,
The shower opens up,
The senate has begun,

In this congress of glass,
The water pours,
I establish my assertion,
To the shampoos present,

To the bottle senators in the room,
To the shower gels and sponges,
I pontificate,
And argue astutely,

With a confidence,
Invisible at all other times,
And a shrewd reasoning,
That drains away as the aqua ceases,

All clean,
I’ve won the argument,
I’ve cracked the problem,
The water is their applause,

It fades down the drain.

I’m a cult of one,
An acolyte of the written word,
Cloaked in a dressing gown robe,
I sit at this altar,
This writing desk,
My sacrificial pen in my clutches,

I begin the ritual,
My bloodshot mind’s eye,
Calls to dark places,
This page is the sacrifice,
To the voices between worlds,
The leaden weight of baneful gods,

By the end,
I am all sweat and aches,
The ritual is complete,
The words are on the damned page,
Creative aether,
Madness in letters.

Looking out to sea,
Reminds me of your face,
Each wave a memory,
Ashen is my face,
Since you left,

You returned to the fatherland,
I never heard your voice again,
Why did you vanish?
Do you miss me?
Do you even remember me?

You were a complicated soul,
At war with yourself,
But I adored you all the same,
You had a pretty form,
That screamed nonconformist,

Do you remember that night?
Among the gravestones,
When we first kissed,
You were never a lover,
But you were my true friend,

We were a pair,
Of eccentric clowns,
Dancing in the worlds misery,
Ballet in the sunless streets,
Nobody else could make me dance,

I won’t dance again.

Hello to all my fellow inmates!

Here’s hoping that you’re all having a suitably crazy day. I suppose you could say the world has gone mad recently. More mad than any asylum! I don’t believe i’ve seen the likes of this worldwide panic in my lifetime. It’s safe to say that this panic is very much justified though. I’m down to my last two energy drinks! It’s simply a scary time to be alive.

I hope that you are all keeping safe regardless. Try to think about other people in these trying times. It is a case of helping each other, even if that means simply staying at our homes. The medical services need us to help contain this coronavirus. As an aside, i’d also suggest calling people that are alone at the moment, such as the elderly. Just a phone call to check they’re doing alright, aren’t alone and aren’t desperate for any supplies. There’s a PSA from me to you. Haha!

So, it’s time for another edition of the Harlequins writing music today. My regular (or not so regular) carnival of musical artists whom I listen to while I write. They offer company and inspiration to me in a vast array of ways. I’m thinking that I ought to display some positive and upbeat sounding music today. We all need a little dance in our quarantines eh?

So, just me as we delve into the musical minds of virtuous artists the world over!

Reel big Fish – Sell Out
http://www.reel-big-fish.com/

Earth, Wind & Fire – September
http://www.earthwindandfire.com/

Smash Mouth – All Star
https://www.smashmouth.com/

The Ohmz – Seven Nation Army
https://www.facebook.com/theohmz/

Major Lazer – Lean On
https://majorlazer.com/

So there we have it for another edition of the Harlequins writing music!

As always, one hopes that you give all of these artists a gander. They certainly all deserve it. It should also be said that they may help keep your spirits up in your quarantines!

Just quickly, if you like what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-Fi page! Thanks!

So, until next time, I bid you a very crazy (and safe) day inmates!

In my minds eye,
I see myself,
In the coming years,
Down on my luck,
In the brumal months,
Cloaked in a ragged greatcoat,

Among the dreary remains,
Of a night in a haze,
A melancholy stupor,
Initiated by the barman,
But not of his design,
A tap of liquid misery,

Will they find me in the gutter?
Slouched with my whisky friends,
Bottles of woe,
Among the scents of ethanol,
And spoils of spilled amber,
Spirits on the stones,

And when it comes to the grim autopsy,
Will the cause of death be phrenitis?
Or a broken heart?

In these trying times,
We are as hounds,
Fear has us becoming dogs,
With a canine thirst,
And a hyena hunger,

Society has become a pound,
Social distance growling,
Crawling around,
With an absent master,
Scavenging from the agora,

We feast ceaselessly,
In our doghouses,
With our mates,
And our feeble pups,
Our pack at home,

The dog bowls run low,
We pant from the panic,
Only animals afterall,
Beholden to primal urges,
We are as hounds,

A thought howls to my mind,
I do wonder,
How long until we feast upon each other?

My mum,
Mother,
The strongest woman I know,
You offer me unparalleled succor,
Protecting me,
Teaching me,
Thank you a million times over,

Wherever you are,
Is home to me,
You brought me into this world,
And now you help me through it,
A stable hand on my shoulder,
Guiding me,
Thank you for being there,

I’d not be me,
Without your love,
The words,
I love you,
They’re not enough,
Not by magnitudes,
Thank you for everything.

I see my target,
Surrounded by craters and husks of society,
Caked in mud and gory detritus,
He must have fought for hours,
Days even,
No matter,

A sniper feels no mercy,
I align my reticule,
Let’s take a look at this prey,
I’ve prowled his unit all week,
Drenched and weary,
Not much longer,

I wonder if he misses home,
His mother must miss him,
His father must be crestfallen,
Their son was conscripted,
But soon to be sent home,
In a bag of his own,

He’s a young man,
Surely a beau of his village,
Glint of a wedding ring,
She must be beautiful,
Wonder if they have children,
He’s not coming home little ones,

He glances fearfully about,
The lightning bolt before the trigger,
Time to earn my pay,
I breathe in,
And smirk,
For him the war is over.

During this time of crisis,
As the world chokes,
In bile and fluids,
The beancounters are hard at work,
Estimating the cost to the land,
Not in life of course,
But that of greed,

Prosperity before people,
Finances over family,
Cash over compassion,
Rat hearts hollowed out decades ago,
They’re sweating bullets,
Productivity could be down,
As the plague drives on,

Numbers do indeed go down,
Yet only the ones with dollar signs,
Are heeded,
The actuaries titter to each other,
Rodent-like and mechanical,
Life is an acceptable loss,
The spreadsheets add up,

The world wheezes,
And once all of the cheques have bounced,
The question becomes,
Whom do we eat first?

I took a walk this morn,
Along a gloomy lane,
To ponder the world,
And my place in it,

The grey clouds,
They look so bleak,
Yet so free,
A blanket of sorrow,

The sky begins to weep,
Along with myself,
Like a somber choir,
Calling out into the fog audience,

They whisper to me as I drudge,
They tell me,
Even misery can be freedom,
Sadness is not made of chains,

Cry and still progress,
I return home a changed man,
The grey clouds,
They continue on to eternity.