I’m a villain, One of many, You probably wouldn’t have heard of me, I’m not the Joker or Magneto, I’m something of a Z-lister, You won’t see any special issues of me,
My supervillain outfit is ragged and gaudy, Inspiring more guffawing than fear, My lair little more than a grimy motel room, No plans for world domination, Just trying to subsist, Stealing for bullets and breadcrumbs,
I’m bad purely through necessity, No super strength or flight, No minions, No real threat, My nemesis is no Superman, It’s the next weeks rent.
We don’t go out looking for affection, Indeed it is a rare treasure to uncover, A blood diamond in the rough, But inevitably it is out there, As certainly as there are strangers,
Eyes meet, Across this bar or that street, As surely as sun meets horizon, Scenarios played out in every mind, Stories unspoken and hands untouched,
We’re all strangers at first, But locked eyes can change everything, From unknowns to friends, Maybe enemies, Perhaps even to lovers.
Our lifeforce is a potion, Brewed by some unseen witch, Mother Nature in a pointy hat, Following a recipe as old as time, All manner of ingredients are sown, Rosebuds and onyx and nightshade, Moonlight and sunshine, Thorns and salt and belladonna, Carrion bird feathers and puppy dog tails, Only the best components, To create this marvel of alchemy, A heartbeat in liquid form, Imbibed within the womb, And coughed up upon our deathbed.
Under these foreboding clouds, And under ravens vigil, Dark deeds are to be done, The war is over, And now retribution must be rendered, So the Headsman is called, And his companion of steel thirst, A silent and bulky man, In a sullen hood that emulates night, Arriving to tight-lipped spectators,
The damned takes his mark, The labrys is held aloft, The bystanders’ awe grows to crescendo, Eons seem to pass, But the edge does fall, A tirade of stories ended with a grim whack, A smirk almost audible under the hood, But before the day is done, Many more heads shall roll, Of that all can be certain.
I am one of the faceless many, All uniforms and funeral veils, A legion of cogs, Clay impersonating vitality, Constricted by LED screen vines, Bound for no greatness, Eyes that don’t see, Ears that hear only wind, A mouth that murmurs only delusions, A false face, I know I’m no different, In this crowd of grey nothings, You won’t see me, You won’t know me, I too am faceless.
Humanity is electric, Volts piloting fleshy mannequins, And we’re all having an energy crisis, We lack the energy for change, A scarce stockpile of self-betterment, Effort dimming along with our bedside lamps,
It seems our supplies are depleted, Interest and vigour evaporated in our tanks, No drive to fix our problems, Our societal defects, No natural gas to pump our breast, Nor to warm our hearts,
Tragedy after tragedy, And plight after plight, Policies for change are avoided, But these shortages can’t be ignored forever, There is an energy crisis abound, And the future shall pay the inflated price.
Good day fellow inmates of the world! How are you all doing? Ultimately good I hope! Things have been pretty decent for me too. I’m having a good start with the new job and I am actually enjoying it. I know, it was a surprise to me too! Here’s hoping for a bright future eh? I wish I could say the same about the weather this week. It’s been diabolical honestly. Not cold or anything, but changeable to say the least. I got soaked the other day on a minor 10 minute trip. I was most tilted. I hope that all of you are having more luck in your respective neighbourhoods.
So, did anybody see the musical theme clue today? It was a pretty obvious one, I’ll confess. A fairly recognisable flag I’d hope. Go on, I’m sure you guessed it right!
That’s it, you got it! Todays theme is the country of Scotland! That most northern part of the United Kingdom. I’ve not yet been lucky enough to visit our northern comrades yet, but everyone I know who has say it’s simply beautiful. I’ve always wanted to visit Edinburgh and especially watch the yearly Edinburgh Tattoo (look it up, it’s so cool). The Scottish are a hardy people who seem to be reduced to a comedic stereotype much too often. All whisky, pubs and haggis. I daresay they’re not all that different from us southerners though. The highlands evoke a certain majesty that you don’t always get to see elsewhere in the UK and I think a lot of that translates to their music artists. It’s a picturesque land that just begs to be sung about. Like any other country though, the inhabitants like and create all sorts of music. For example, Calvin Harris and The Waterboys couldn’t be more different and they’re both Scottish. So, let’s see just how varied I can be today eh?
Please, once more, join me as we delve into the musical minds of Scottish artists!
And there we go! Not a Proclaimers song or bagpipe in sight! That’s not to say they wouldn’t be suitable choices I suppose. I think I got a good selection there, don’t you? I was surprised how many bands I know were in fact from Scotland. That’ll teach me won’t it? I hope you all check each of these artists out, they definitely deserve the attention. Slainte Mhath!
So, let’s get the shilling out of the way eh? I must say it would be wonderful if you would all come follow me on social media as well as here at the asylum. I have a page over on Facebook, an account on Instagram and even a Twitter page. I share my poems over there too, but I also share clues for my poems a few hours ahead of time. It’s good fun honestly. Also, if you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page as well! Thanks for everything!
Mankind is sick, Addled by a toxic fog, A primal miasma, Colourless and odourless, But insidious all the same, It permeates not only into our skin, But our humours also, Reducing us to beasts,
We scratch at one another over trifles, Imagined slights and bruised egos, Chimpanzee disputes and jealousy, A red mist owning our minds, And though harmony is our ideal, Our intent, We show such aptitude for rage, Such illness.
Why do I write? It’s an intricate question, But the answer is simple, I found a calling within the ink, A reason for being, An obsession perhaps,
And so I waltz with quills and vellum, A giggling rune crafter, Splashing ink upon dreams and fantasies, Incubi between the lines, Chimera of vowels and consonants, And I’m a capable beast master,
I’ll admit it takes practice, When I pen these brainchilds, I’m not showing off, Not espousing some kind of artsy manifesto, I simply write because I love it, I could not see myself any other way.
I admire the philosophers, The thinkers, Those followers of wisdom, Those Platos and Nietzches, Those who deign to study reality and existence, Thankless profession as it is,
Unlike the astronomers, Who look outward, To that more tangible mystery, These souls look deep inside, Into that primordial mass that is humanity, The wiles of our nature,
They ask questions, Is there meaning in life? What is consciousness? Are there deities? Fate or free will? Positing enigmas ad infinitum,
Yet they shout into the void, No concrete answers will echo back, And for that, I admire these personages, Because they understand that basic tenet, Philosophy is to know that you know nothing.
WorldofHarley 