Archive for Sep, 2022

The attic of my brain is infested,
A legion of cerebral rats I fear,
Vile little vermin,
Perhaps my mind was ample carrion,
They gnawed on my memories,
My good times,
The smiles and beaches,
Seizing chunks in gory fashion,

With each nibble,
Images began to distort,
A stony tint overlaid the joy,
Stories took dramatic new turns,
I had to act,
I had to chase them out,
Club in hand,
A flood of rodents into the aether,

To avenge the elation already consumed,
To salvage what little remained,
To remember some joy.

The revelation was like a diorama,
A breath hanging in the air,
Clocks stopped in their tracks,
Shocked faces and closed fists,
A car crash frozen in time,
Unlike a table-top simulacrum,
These models are flesh,
The flushed cheeks and tears are not painted,
The vegetation is upturned tables and bile,
Art precluding a debacle,

This moment caught in biting ice,
It’s very real,
The next moment,
Won’t be so scenic,
It’ll be all rage and discordance.

Some are pursued by spirits,
Corpses of a hundred yesterdays,
Ectoplasmic bindings,
Every past hurt or teardrop,
Every bugbear and tribulation,
Lessons that stuck around too long,
This reminiscence does you no good,

So the best recourse,
Is to bury it,
Slay it and put it in the ground,
Stuff it in a pine box,
Exorcise that spectre,
Forget it,
Let that shovel be your survivor,

If you don’t bury the past,
Six feet deep in salted earth,
You’ll always be haunted by ghosts.

I keep walking,
Day by year by century,
Battered and bloodied,
Like a dreadnought shelled from shore,
Calloused toes escaping my socks,
Torn and slate-hued as they are,
My feet only shielded by cotton remnants,
My shoes wore away eons ago,
Burned away upon the Earths face,
As I keep walking,

Now the elements chew at my soles,
Bitten by pebbles and life both,
Pools of acid and discarded razors,
Ore fashioned of every cruel word,
Ripping my socks further,
This has been going on for so long,
I know I could get new socks,
Temporarily soothing the hurts,
It’s a novel concept,
Alas I must keep walking.

Do you ever see your soul in another?
Like a beacon amidst the masses,
Dancing for your eyes only,
They’re not you but somehow familiar,
Physically diverse perhaps,
But a spiritual doppelganger,

It could be a stranger,
Or an old confidant,
But within their form,
A flaxen glow emanates,
Your soul reflected,
As if a mirror stood before you,

That spirit in the one before you,
Maybe they were always there,
Perhaps the mirror was too foggy,
Blemished by your traumas,
Perhaps you weren’t ready,
To meet a true friend.

You think of me as diabolical,
But you’re mistaken slugger,
I’m only a henchman,
I’m not evil,
I only follow orders,
Do the grunt work,

I serve the Boss,
A dictator in a lab coat,
With buzzsaws and moonbases and sharks,
Cutting secret agents in half with lasers,
They call him a doctor,
But I’ve yet to see him cure a soul,

We get shot at for him,
Mop up blood for him,
We get vaporised by him,
But we don’t complain,
It’s just the life,
The way of the minion.

Good <insert-time-of-day> inmates!

I think the heavens have permanently opened in the last week. It’s absolutely tipped it down almost every day! I’ve tried to avoid going outside as much as possible in response, though work obviously demands it. I’ve gotten lucky between showers at least. The nation has been struck with some rather bad news as I’m sure you’re all aware by now. Queen Elizabeth the 2nd passed away the other day. The typical British weather has shown up in force for the occasion and I can only assume it’s the country crying over the Queens death as well. I’m not really interested in the royal family or anything like that myself, but it will be kind of strange using the term King instead of Queen I must admit. I’m indifferent to be honest, so I’ll leave it at that.

We’re here for a more positive reason today after all! The Harlequins writing music! Back again for another week. Did anybody see the clue this time? It was a bit more on the vague side for a change. As in, it could have represented multiple possibilities. Just wow! So original! Woo! Ok, enough theatrics, let’s get on with it eh?

Todays musical theme is… Air! One of those things we all need or so I’m told. It’s all around us all of the time so I suppose it’s no wonder that it has inspired music. It’s one of those elements that gets attributed to all kinds of things, in the same vein as fire or water. Air can represent the sky, freedom, life or even knowledge. It can inspire and it can suffocate. It can be positive and adaptable or it can be a destructive tornado. As such it’s hard to pin down what particular songs could be themed around the air. It’s something you just kind of feel when listening to one, though of course there are songs that are inspired by specific air-related things too. I’ll see if I can demonstrate what I mean as I feel I don’t have the words.

Please, indulge me and join me as we delve into the musical minds of airy artists the world over!

Electric Light Orchestra – Mr Blue Sky

Tycho – Cloud Generator

Nelly Furtado – I’m Like A Bird

Altimeter – Astronought

Little Big Town – Tornado

And there we have it! Is there a draught coming through or is it just me? With any luck, that may demonstrate what I mean about air-related songs. If not, at least you still have some nice artists to listen to eh? I hope you all enjoy the choices I’ve made this week anyway. Be sure to check out all of these artists, they definitely deserve your… airtime? Har har!

So, I’ll get the last bit out of the way for you. The social media bit remember? The asylum has a few social media pages you know. I have a page over on Facebook that I’m still trying to work out how to grow, an Instagram account and a page over on Twitter as well! Please think about following or liking me over on those. Also, if you really enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page as well! Thanks for everything my friends!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!

Life is precious,
Like a ruby set in a ribcage,
A canary in a mineshaft,
It is the most beautiful of things,
Revealed in all elements of the world,
Waterfalls and leaves and sunlight,
The blush upon a cheek,
The uneasy clamour of a foal,

It is also fragile,
Like ceramic lungs,
Easily damaged or snuffed outright,
Entropy always bearing down,
Ribs can crack,
Light always fades,
Water always evaporates,
The canary always suffocates.

My mind was once such a sketchpad,
Paltry yet functional,
Full of images from the past,
Smiles and carousels,
Downpours and cataclysms,
Penned by revels and crises long gone,
I remembered them all,
The ink I thought was dry,

But pens sometimes leak,
The ink seeps out,
Or runs off the page,
So many faces and names,
Escaped into the aether,
Like so many convicts,
It’s nothing personal,
But my memory is only sketches,

Too finely etched,
And easily besmirched.

Life is rife with peril,
It’s a journey across lands unknown,
A yellow brick road,
Laden with trash and pennies,
No matter how far you walk,
There’ll always come a bridge,
Built upon miracles and curses,
Under which all manner of troll could hide,

It’s perilous yet unavoidable,
A turning point in some eyes,
You must cross the bridge,
Life demands it,
So keep living and walking,
Follow the road,
And cross another bridge,
And another.