There is only one way to travel,
To bring eyes on to the faces of the world,
And it is to take flight,
By the wing aloft,
By the gales breath,
Take off in your minds eye,
Be as the albatross,
An airborne paragon of freedom,
A cherub of flesh and feather,
Let naught bind you,
Voyage the malms and leagues,
Over the reefs and briny deeps,
The British Isles and the Rockies,
Over the pyramids of Egypt,
The steppes of Russia,
Be free as the albatross,
A globe of sights to see,
No more thrall to a terrestrial cage,
Simply declare to all who hear,
This birds strings are replaced with wings.
Many lands believe might makes right,
And bestow this belief on the foreign poor,
A show of force,
A frank display of arrogance,
Replacing ancient tenets with roads,
Inflicting new flags on old traditions,
With heretofore never seen weaponry,
Science turned to warfare,
Behemoths of timber and black powder,
Lines of steel and ruby uniform,
All lands become part of a gold rush,
Power used to justify itself,
Large swathes of the world under one creed,
But a creed benefitting very few,
Vampires in wigs of affluence cheer,
Raising goblets of exotic blood,
To chalk and sands stained in red,
Conquest being its own reward.
Yet another door of sleep I have passed,
Into a nebula of dreams,
A fruit salad of ether,
Pinks and yellows and indigos,
A jungle of numberless stars,
A ballroom of comets,
Stupefaction blended twixt disquiet,
I’m an unidentified flying object,
Exploring this ominous sea of clouds,
Surging through the pink smog,
Imitating the likes of the perseids,
Freaky ghosts of planets pass,
Wearing their plated asteroid belts,
The nebulae all around like silken veils,
Ahead I glimpse a conflux of obsidian and rose,
A wicked black hole,
Gawping as if at a banquet,
Assimilating every vapour of fuchsia mist,
Intrigued I peer into the abyss,
Within it is earthly chaos,
The morning sun.
Compatriots we are face to face,
Barely inches apart,
Strenuous palpitations almost audible,
There is so much to be said,
I begin to broach my mouth,
Tongue longing to prattle sentiment,
But the jaw rebels at once,
Grinding to a painful halt,
Hamstringing my longing tongue,
Leaving so many words unsaid,
Prisoners to a cruel muscle spasm,
But did they truly deserve to be uttered?
You are an unclean soul,
Coated in heretical muck and detritus,
Scars of yesterday,
Sickly ink from past octopuses,
Ebonies and greys and dull blues,
Needles from yesteryears stinging nettles,
Sins you blame yourself for,
Past events that still bring tears,
Such dirt can be exorcised,
One must forgive ones past mistakes,
Accept your mere humanity,
With your forgiveness come suds and soap,
Absolving water lavishing your form,
Your hands follow suit,
Scrub the filth from your spirit,
Be clean of soul for tomorrow’s coming refuse.
Oh hi! I didn’t see you there! Why were you hiding? Well anyways, I hope that you’re all having a safe and stress free week thus far. Its been another positive week here at the asylum. I’ve felt more content with my recent works than I usually do, I’ve been able to relax a little better than usual and also it was Tashs birthday the weekend just passed so that was rather lovely too. Positives stacked upon positives! Hehe!
I suppose you want some music now eh? It is time for the next tome of the Harlequins writing music today after all. I’ll be sharing five music artists that keep me company while I attempt to create cohesive sentences (hopefully). As usual I’ll try to keep it a tad varied, we wouldn’t want to lean too much towards one genre eh?
So, join me as we delve into the musical minds of sublime artists the world over!
And there we have it for another edition of the Harlequins writing music!
Quite a variety there eh? Music covers all the bases when it comes to creating art. It inspires, energises and cheers you on. I hope that at least one of these artists takes your fancy and assists you too. Give them a try, you shan’t be disappointed.
Now for my usual social media proclamation. The asylum has a prescence on Facebook, an Instagram page and a Twitter account. Come and follow me over there, it can fun at times I swear! Also, if you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-fi page. Thanks for everything my friends!
Until next time (and the first week of December), have a very crazy day inmates!
Glass in hand you recline,
For your very own calming standstill,
The turntables sense your earned slack,
And begins its twisting dance,
Soothing your daily hurts is its objective,
Round and round,
Elegantly it twirls,
A black disc of musical sorcery,
The stylus a conductors tool,
This onyx maestro is an aural hot spring,
The tune washes over you,
Round and round,
Each note is an invisible bandage,
Strings of sublime contact via your ears,
The touch of a seraph,
The sips of crimson from your glass coalesce,
Tongue and hearing in a refined waltz of healing,
The days insanity has come to an end,
Your body is weary,
Its defences worn down to soft grain,
Your head pounds with harmful influences,
You lay it down to recuperate,
Upon your factory of dreams,
Unforeseen the silence crawls over you,
And with it the demons multiply,
Salivating over the cracks in your psyche,
Malicious maneuvers in the dark,
They would ravage you like countless hypodermic needles,
Save for the defence resting above your bed,
An arcane symbol from the first nations,
Molded of willow and spider sinew,
Spindly weaponry of Asibikaashi,
A conduit through which your dreams can be mobilised,
As an aetheric crusade against the night,
Old magic to protect you until the morn.
The eve grows fatigued,
And your eyes along with it,
The shapes in the corners grow contorted,
Monsters hiding in the periphery,
Raving as you sweat bullets,
Shudders in your limbs,
You feel dark eyes upon you,
An undeniable weight,
Your heart rate begins to sprint,
But you dissuade your own chills,
T’was merely fear of the night,
You lay your head down,
Something sees from the rafters,
Not a revenant,
But a ghost of flesh,
An adept of a grim mantra,
A bladed shadow,
And it seems you’re the mark,
Sleep keeps its distance,
Shudders radiate in your marrow,
You clench your eyes taut,
Something drops to the floor,
Black garb flowing like water,
A shadow approaches its prey,
Eyes and edges behind obsidian silk,
Sleep of a kind is here.
I feel off-kilter,
Somehow weighted to one side,
The mind hangs in the balance,
A set of scales nestled in our egos,
Ungodly yet ornate,
Lifes events are as weights on one side or the other,
Life can bring circumstance of both good and bad,
Too much of either can be destructive,
Positive and negative,
Success and heartbreak,
Narcissism and misanthropy,
Use these events as lessons not additions to your id,
Either weight dropping is a fell stroke,
One way leads to decadence,
The other a fall to adversity,
Both are forms of insanity,
Both will destroy your own soul,
Both are evil by different modus operandi,
Do not allow your scales to dip,
One must strive for balance,
Be as a pendulum,
Map a safe travail through lifes hills and valleys,
The ups and downs,
Protect your minds integrity.
WorldofHarley 