Suburbs

This is the suburbs,
Residential utopia,

Gardens disheveled and unkempt,

Children with blank faces,

Creaky marred front gates,

A young lady who hears all manner of sordid gossip,

A shed kept from prying eyes,

A policeman with lewd secrets of his own,

A community full of cliques,

A weary young man who keeps his basement locked,

A husband and wife who never look at one another,

A girlfriend head-to-toe in Stella Artois contusions,

A widow still in a black veil,

A crowded yellow school-bus never to get home,

Some utopia,
When perused closer,
Even the suburbs aren’t so idyllic.

The Unknown

I gaze out of my window,
And up into the sky,
That sapphire display of experiences and worlds unknown,
That projection screen for hopes and fears,
I see other worlds that are out of reach,
Or are they imaginary?

The great azure sky looms over,
Acting as a backdrop for my minds eye,
The sun illuminates it,
Acting as a catalyst for what I see,
The clouds act their little plays,
Trying to obscure the enigmas I see,

I see worlds of splendor,
I see nightmare-scapes,
I see fiends and seraphs,
Horrors unbound,
And otherworldly monsters,
Oh the monsters,

Alien worlds that are wholly unknowable,
Stars shimmering every colour of this world,
And many that are not,
Worlds of untold beauty and potential,
And worlds of misery and black lightning,
I’ve seen these before in my dreams,

Then I become cognizant of something,
I was staring into a mirror all along,
A window into the human soul.

No Power

I have a problem,
I seem to be lacking in power recently,
I’ve never really been pushed,
I’ve never been overcharged,
I’ve never been struck by lightning,
My consciousness lacks a certain electricity,

No power,
No motivation,
No current,
No ambition,
No voltage,
No impetus,

Do I need an electrician?
A new battery?
A new transistor?
A heart-shaped motor?
An inspirational amplifier?
Does my negative have no positive?

Why do I have no power?
Does my meter need some change?

Mr. Ash

He’s coming for me,
Even the storm outside does not cloak his steps,
Mr. Ash,
The frigid wind tries to hold him back in vain,
The rain whispers “flee”,
Each stroke of lightning is a plea of “run!”,

My attempts at going underground failed,
My thieving insult to him will be repaid in blood,
I glance out of the window fearfully,
I see him nearing even in the black,
It’s like staring into evil itself,
It’s like looking at the apocalypse in slow motion,

A demon,
A God,
Or something altogether more alien,
Long spindly limbs,
Pale and hairless,
He is dressed literally to kill,

His emaciated limbs bear barbarous claws,
Claws that have ended lives since time began,
And perhaps even before,
His mad eyes are wide open,
His grin filled with murderous intent,
He’s coming for me,

His form appeared at my door,
That grin still glistening,
Despite the horror that was about to ensue,
His rangy form must nearly crouch,
But I still feel like a frightened child,
The monster under the bed is real,

Even the bravest slink in terror,
And fear the name of Mr. Ash,
Even the maddest see reason,
And fear the name of Mr. Ash,
Even as my body is torn limb from limb,
The storm continues unabated.

Some writing music: Part 16

Good day fellow inmates!

I hope you’re all having a wonderful day, week and year so far! I’m beginning to get back into this writing malarkey after what seems to be ages. Life in the world of Jack has been a bit tumultuous recently but I think we’re starting to get back to normality finally. It’s been too long since my last post, a number of months at least. Unforgivable I say! I hope you liked my latest poem called Hateful God, I’m quite happy with it to be honest. I’m less happy that I couldn’t post one of my drawings on it due to technical problems. I assure you the webcam responsible has been fired, along with the individuals who hired the webcam. Haha!

So it’s time for part 16 of the Harlequins writing music! It’s quite shocking that I’ve made 16 of these since WorldofHarley started. Here’s hoping nobody has gotten bored of them yet. So, for those of you who may be new to the asylum that is my blog, writing music is quite literally a collection of posts about the music that I enjoy listening to whilst I write. The bands and songs involved are from a large variety of genres. I could be listening to the “phat” beat of a dubstep song one day, but listen to the elegant musings of classical music the next. I give most music a chance to amaze me! I hope they amaze you as well! So here goes!

Now, let us delve into the musical minds of masterly artists the world over!

Kansas – Carry On Wayward Son

Homepage

Chas & Dave – Ain’t No Pleasing You

Home

Owl City – Deer In The Headlights
http://www.owlcitymusic.com/

Stan Ridgway – Camouflage
http://www.stanridgway.com/

RED – Already Over
http://www.redmusiconline.com/

So there we have it for another edition of the Harlequins writing music! I hope that you’ve enjoyed this post and that you’ve heard some music that resonates with you! I encourage you to check out all of these artists, they’re quite simply great! My opinion of course! Perhaps give my older writing music posts a chance too, they’re getting lonely back there in the archive. Just search “music” in the search bar over there, you may find a band you’ll fall in love with!

I think it’s also worth mentioning that WorldofHarley has existed for three years now! WordPress thought it’d be nice to tell me. Ain’t that kind of them? So, I extend a warm thank you to everyone who has viewed, liked and followed the blog so far. You’re all great! Or mad. Or both. So anyway…

Until next time, have a very crazy day inmates!

Hateful God

There once was a God who learned to hate,
He grew tired of benevolence,
And perhaps of divinity too,
His creations only brought disappointment,

Beasts of fang and scale grew tiresome,
Achieving nothing but a tedious cycle of predator and prey,
His creations of the waves too,
Fins and scales offer no diversion,

He looks to the skies,
And hates the souls flying overhead,
Cursing at his avian creations,
Each wing-beat an assumed insult to his godhood,

Most of all he loathes those of his image,
Dominating a world he made,
Squabbling over salt and dirt,
Boring, boring and boring,

A bored God is a dangerous God,
A dissatisfied one even more so,
What if he decided to inject some amusement?
A cataclysm there,
A flood here,
Or a plague over there,
Something a hateful God could unleash upon his subjects of ire,

What if this God decided to throw his toys away,
And started anew?