Archive for September, 2020

Hello there inmates!

How are you all? Having a nice and safe day? I’m finding myself ever more contented recently. I’m having lots of work to do, along with free time here at the asylum. Best of both worlds and all that! This has meant that I’ve been able to write plenty, though it’s hampered my posting times a little bit as some of you may have noticed. Sorry about that!

I’m really enjoying reading and responding to your comments recently. It’s what I wanted more than anything really. To connect with all of my fellow inmates of the world. It’s wonderful to hear from fellow writers and thinkers as well. Artists unite and all of that jazz. Haha!

So, it’s time for another edition of the Harlequins writing music. The last one of september! I can’t believe it’s almost Halloween season already! Best time of the year, I hope you’d agree! I wonder what artists I can drag out of my cranium today to entertain all of you lovely people!

Join me as we delve into the musical minds of wondrous artists the world over!

Sirenia – The Path To Decay
http://www.sirenia.no/

STAR SEED – Escape
https://www.youtube.com/starseedsound

Adele – Someone Like You
http://www.adele.com/home/

Jeris Johnson – Damn!
https://www.instagram.com/jerisjohnson/

Casey Edwards – Bury The Light
https://caseyedwardsmusic.com/

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

I hope you will enjoy all of these artists and give them a fair whack! They all deserve the attention and a handful more views eh? The last one by Casey Edwards I had, in fact, only just heard today and fell in love with it! I hope some of you will too!

So, lets get on to the social media spiel for the day! I have a Facebook page, a Twitter account and an Instagram page. Also, if you like what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-fi page. Thanks for everything!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!

Do you hear the sobbing?
Hades and the Reaper sit side-by-side,
Mourning,
But not for their expired charges,
But for their assumed roles as villains,
As monsters,

Among a garden of grey roses,
Huddled betwixt souls in repose,
Beside the Styx,
Thrust there by cruel circumstance,
One guides the dead to finally rest,
The other acts as caretaker and guardian,

And what do they receive for their service?
Fear,
The unerring terror of death,
They too prisoners of fates hand,
Hades laments his own torment,
Head in hands,

Their very purpose likened to evil,
But it’s a lie borne of fear,
Death is merely another step,
And its agents merely accessories to this end,
They reap no love though,
They merit pity not dread.

He is whirling,
Devout in his movements,
The aches in his legs mean nothing,
Physical exertions to praise the upper,
Let the spiritual ecstasy never cease,

Spin and praise,

Upon the sunburned steps of Istanbul,
His ebony robes appear a turbine,
The whirling continues,
A trance-like tornado of limbs,
Arousing his soul,

Spiral in wajad,

This Dervish and his euphoric twirl,
Is closer to immortality than I could dream,
Each priestly rotation brings further enlightenment,
The whirling shall not stop,
Not until salvation bears its head.

When the day of the dead arrives,
And the time to remember kin comes with it,
There are no tears,
But grins from sugar skulls,
Dances within colours of all shades,
A parade of remembrance,

Light the copal,
Paint on to your faces fluorescent visages,
And dance among the cemeteries,
Hand in hand with family,
Mortal and incorporeal,
Awaken the very dead beneath you,

Your loved ones,
They are not gone,
Merely on a step into the spiritual,
They shall still observe you,
The skull giggles,
It shall guide them.

Somethings in my head,
A beastly array of pains and throes,
I can feel it clawing at the walls,
And all the pain that entails,
I know not what is in there,

A bloody drum kit played by an ogre,
Or a cat with too many legs,
A stack of plates like the tower of pisa,
Or a feverish jazz band,
A penance forced on to my brain,

It hurts,
Pangs like bolts through the veins,
I grow weary of it,
The only question upon my lips,
When will it dissipate and give me rest?

The times of cold approach,
And the dark with it,
Twin seasons of Fall and Jack Frost,
Times of boreal frost biting at your fingers,
Seasons of shivers,
Presents of pumpkins and bonfires,
But not before the autumnal death of the year,

Firstly come the hues of orange and brown,
Emeralds decaying from the boughs,
Laying a carpet of beguiling entropy,
A funeral for this turn of the sun,
With scents of ginger and freshness,

Then follows the true storm of cold,
Walls of snow from the sky,
Rain haunting the alleys like spectres,
Jack Frost cackles in blizzards,
Leaving little crystalline stars about as presents,

These times bring cold and discomfort,
It’s undeniably true,
But it also brings gatherings around fireplaces,
Blankets and cuddles and cinnamon,
Hope for a new year,

If the cold didn’t bear down,
We wouldn’t know the warm.

Society dragged me aside to let me know,
I have childish notions of being an artist,
A foolish path,
Ludicrous wants and ideas,
Plans of a dunce,
Or so am I led to believe,

Am I just pretending?
An impostor,
Doing the motions without understanding?
Wearing my silly apron,
With my silly pen,
Writing my silly little words,

When I string together webs of emotion,
Am I a creator?
When I put words to paper,
Am I a writer?
When I brush colour on to parchment,
Am I a painter?

I don’t know the truth of it,
Perhaps I do sully the name of wordsmith,
Playing at artistry,
Wearing a mask of competence,
Though I shake behind it,
Perhaps I am just pretending after all.

Good day inmates!

I hope that you’re having a radiant and safe day today. Things are still going swimmingly here at the asylum. I’ve been told I look much healthier and happier in recent weeks, which is not something I’ve heard in sooooo very long. I do truly feel better as well, it’s not just a throwaway compliment. My mental health had been suffering for quite some time for various reasons, but I’m finally getting out from under that cloud. Partly thanks to this asylum and you glorious inmates out there in the world of the net.

It’s time for another edition of the Harlequins writing music! I still dig ever deeper into my cranial reserves for artists to show all of you. It’s become quite mental exercise at this point but that’s great isn’t it? Got to keep the mind busy! Speaking of busy, let’s get to it shall we? Let’s have some music!

Join me as we delve into the musical minds of expert artists the world over!

Semargl – Discolove
http://semargl.com.ua/en/

Lindsey Stirling – Roundtable Rival
https://www.lindseystirling.com/

Bullet For My Valentine – Your Betrayal
http://www.bulletformyvalentine.com/

Dropkick Murphys – I’m Shipping Up To Boston
http://www.dropkickmurphys.com/

Jean Michel Jarre – Oxygene Part 4
http://www.jeanmicheljarre.com/

And there we have it for another shot of the Harlequins writing music!

I hope I’ve included something today that may interest everyone. I think it’s a reasonably broad selection, no? Please give each of these a try, you may find something new you like!

So, it’s time to include my social media credentials for you all! I have a Facebook page, a Twitter account and an Instagram page. Also, if you like what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-fi page. Thanks for everything!

Until next time my friends, have a very crazy day inmates!

I see you,
I see what you’re doing darling,
What you’re intending,
The voracious hunger behind your pupils,
But not for me,
Nay,
But for what I can provide,

You let the mask slip a pinch,
Your words were unsalted butter,
Melting into my hungry ears,
Sustaining yet unhealthy,
Offering that which you had no intention of giving,
An out-splayed hand snapped away,
Toying with me like a yoyo,

You’d ask me for this,
You’d request that,
You’d see me a husk,
Spent and emaciated,
And yet order a stone from atop Olympus,
A pearl from the Mariana trench,
It’d never be enough,

You used me,
But no more,
I see you now.

We sit here together,
Face to face,
In our proudest visages,
Within this living room senate,
With representatives from previous events,
Our relations incredibly warm up until now,

This alliance of lovers has been jeopardized,
By an international incident of a tryst,
A war in the making,
Raised voices being the declarations of war,
Flying plates and glasses being the weapons,
There is no diplomatic immunity here,

Outside espionage is present of course,
Voices from foreign officials discolour negotiations,
Misled assumptions and false intelligence,
Each point of view comes to the stand,
To be voted down by our alliances knowledge,
No outside bribery of hugs and drinks shall suffice,

Our nations of heart belong together,
Our very own democracy must survive,
The final vote comes to love and trust,
We fought for this with our initial rebellion,
These negotiations shall continue at length,
Until we fall into one anothers arms again.