Archive for Mar, 2020

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.

A continuation of ‘Cerberus‘.

I was in hell,
I climbed out,
Through the barbed wire,
And viridian flames,
My charred body endures,
Even as strips of flesh yield,

That thrice-headed horror,
It hunted me here,
But it neglected the fact,
A prey cornered is vicious,
I dismembered it in glee,
I wear its teeth as trophies,

I don the cracked mask once more,
I am once more the apex,
I’m back,
They’ll suffer for their transgression,
Daring to end my imbrued crusade,
I’ll punish them all,

I hear the cattle call,
With their cell phones and banter,
Anathema to my senses,
My killer instinct,
It sends bolts down my spine,
Let’s punish the world,

Never was affluent in life,
So lets try unlife,
The world is my stage again,
My carnival of gore and chaos,
My charnel house,
My festival of blood,

My bloody legacy is renewed,
I’ll sit atop the corpses,
Of the whole world,
A holy throne,
Even the reaper shall bow to me,
Caked in the grisly glory,

Of my monument of gore.

He stands,
At the gates of society,
In the biting storm,
Unhindered,
More sturdy than any wall,

Adorned in gothic plate,
A companion of countless campaigns,
He had no time for a family,
For he was called to war,
More imposing than any bastion,

He is decorated,
Both in medals,
And in brutal scars,
Trophies of crusades both fair and foul,
More watchful than any optics,

He lives to vanquish vandals,
And to protect innocent souls,
Even as his body fails him,
We all salute thee,
The mighty man-at-arms.

I come to you all,
With my rickety cart,
And my dingy regalia,
Fashion of the bubonic,

Bring out your dead,
Keep your corpses,
They were doomed from the start,
I mean the real dead,

Your dignity,
Your common sense,
Your decorum,
Your sanity,

They gasped their last,
While you rot alongside your stupidity,
Society is a cadaver,
To be taken and burned,

I drudge through your muck,
Ringing a hopeless bell,
Society dies,
Before its denizens do,

Bring out your dead.

Hello there inmates!

As always I hope that you’re having a very crazy day! Things have been running at top rate here at the asylum. I’ve sort of got into a routine with my writing and various other things around the home. I’m writing more and, in my opinion, it’s gotten better! It’s helped with my recent trouble with mental illness enormously. It has to be said that the fact that people are reading and seemingly are enjoying my work has been a real boost. If even one person reads one of my poems, i’m over the moon!

While i’m on the subject, some shameful self-promotion once again! I’d be overjoyed if anyone would support the blog over at the Ko-fi page. Anything helps! Haha!

So, on to the purpose of todays post. The Harlequins writing music! As usual, i’m going to share with you all some of the menagerie of musical geniuses that I listen to and draw inspiration from. I implore you all to check some of them out. You never know, you may just find your new favourite band!

So, once again, join me as we delve into the musical minds of estimable artists the world over!

8 Graves – Bury Me Low
https://www.8graves.com/

AFI – Silver And Cold
http://afireinside.net/

Gary Numan – My Name Is Ruin
http://garynuman.com/

Pink – Funhouse
https://h2bh.pinkspage.com/

Depeche Mode – Enjoy The Silence
http://www.depechemode.com/

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

A few well known artists there for a change eh? Popularity doesn’t preclude inspiration or creativity after all. I hope you show these artists some love all the same! They all deserve it in my eyes! I hope to see you all in the next post! I think it’s almost time for another poem don’t you? Haha!

So, until next time, have a very barmy day inmates!

Sleep has become a storm recently,
A tumultuous time,
Hurricanes of colour,
Bizarre images abound,
Perhaps call it a brainstorm,

Thunderbolts of sudden pictures,
Blinding shots of emotion,
Parodies of realities,
Both imagined and real,
I stir at every crack,

Colours take on shapes,
That I don’t really understand,
Dreams of lovers and killers,
Of monsters and smiles,
Conversations with people who don’t exist,

I begin to feel myself shiver,
The winds grow ever stronger,
I hope to survive the night,
I hope to awaken anew,
After the storm.

The mouthpieces call,
Will we be spared this carnage?
The end times surely,
Pandemic panic,
Masks are amassed,

The fools plead,
Who is to fall next?
We’ll all gasp our last,
Deflective delirium,
The dead are used,

Hazmats pour in,
As reason spills out,
Our sense drained like a sore,

We should ask ourselves,
What is cloaked by this plague?
What is hidden by our hysteria?

A corona can blind.

I remember a tale,
Far to the east,
In the cold empire,
A plan was produced,
To kill a mystic,
A holy man,
A healer,
A strannik,
A problem,

After previous attempted failed,
By a peasant madwoman coerced,
A new scheme was required,
An invite to a house,
With a blade biding its time,
Cups and bottles of venom,
Three gunshots of hate,
A lover of a queen,
Buried in the snow.