Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

Wild rose

Posted: August 15, 2017 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs

Wild Rose

WorldofHarley

She is my wild rose,
Crimson like passion,
Beautiful beyond compare,
An angel in all but name,
The kind that stands out effortlessly,
Crimson like rage.

I am tangled in her thorns,
But also her petals,
Crimson like warmth,
Soothing and scathing in equal measure,
Loving and wrathful in duality,
Crimson like blood.

Her lips can wound,
They open burning scars,
But they can heal those same scars,
As if by some magic,
Vibrant and soothing,
Radiant and humbling.

She caresses my weary and cracked lips,
While weathering a tempest,
Standing tall like a bastion,
But holding me like a seraph,
Wise and dependable,
Crimson like love.

I love her,
She is my wild rose.

Wildrose

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Blocked Mind

Posted: August 13, 2017 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs

Blocked Mind

WorldofHarley

The mind is a prison,
Shackles and all,
All your ideas are kept there,
All your machinations are bound there,
Your minds eye is temporarily blindfolded,

Upon request these treasures are released,
Creations given wing,
On to page and stage,
To captivate and terrify,
To enlighten and appall,

But something has designs on these gems,

Writers block,
The plague of the author and artist,
A malady so harrowing,
So abominable,
So soul-crushing,

Now my mind is blocked,
The affliction comes for me,
It’s an unwanted guard to my prison,
Authorizing no creative release,
Me and my psyche are in solitary,

Will we ever be released?

Writersblock

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The Oldschool Harlequin

WorldofHarley

So, I’ve been writing this for the last few days. It’s meant to be, quite simply, a piece about the Oldschool Harlequin. The supernatural being I imagined up, not me myself. I didn’t want to give too much about him away, while still explaining some things about him.

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“So, who or what is the Harlequin i hear you say.
Have you not seen him?
The regal man in a top hat and emblazoned with outlandish face paint.
A madman or visionary?
A vagrant or pilgrim?
Criminal or revolutionary?
Good or wicked?
In truth, nobody really knows.

He came to these shores from out of the distant mists.
A chaotic phantom.
An outsider.
A force of nature.
A demigod.
Appearing in one place, then another almost instantaneously.
He has shown himself to be both benevolent and malevolent.
Unnaturally brutal and kindly all at once.
Occasionally appearing to act simply on a…

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Suburbs

Posted: August 11, 2017 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs

Suburbs

WorldofHarley

This is the suburbs,
Residential utopia,

Gardens disheveled and unkempt,

Children with blank faces,

Creaky marred front gates,

A young lady who hears all manner of sordid gossip,

A shed kept from prying eyes,

A policeman with lewd secrets of his own,

A community full of cliques,

A weary young man who keeps his basement locked,

A husband and wife who never look at one another,

A girlfriend head-to-toe in Stella Artois contusions,

A widow still in a black veil,

A crowded yellow school-bus never to get home,

Some utopia,
When perused closer,
Even the suburbs aren’t so idyllic.

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Asylum Jaunt

Posted: August 9, 2017 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs

Asylum Jaunt

WorldofHarley

A crossroads in my life,
I remember it well,

Mundanity one way,
A tiresome future,
A pointless existence,
Eccentricity over yonder,
The way of the top hat,
The path of the face-paint,

I chose the only path I could,

Now I jaunt along it,
A cane in one gloved hand,
And a pen in the other,
A jester marotte in my pocket,
My top hat standing tall,
A capricious design upon my face,

Where my grin goes,
Kaleidoscopic and macabre images follow me,
There can be no end to the madness,
This procession of the asylum continues.

MFM Team

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To most who look,
Poetry looks a glorious act,
A noble act,
But it’s a lie,
It is butchery,

I hack and cleave,
Words into prime cuts,
Punctuation into mince,
It is a foul process,
The table glistens with grease and crimson,

Exsanguinate the prose,
And remove narrative viscera,
Carve a strip of exposition there,
And rend from it superfluous fat,
My pen thirsts for more,

Boiling bones of expression,
Reducing them to grist for future ventures,
Everything is red,
The grisly work is done,
For the punters to love and hate,

Caked in blood and gore,
Of projects discarded,
I am no writer,
No poet,
I am a butcher.

The Smuggler

Posted: August 6, 2017 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs

The Smuggler

WorldofHarley

We are criminals,
We are dead men walking,
Smugglers and felons all,

A pall falls over our vessel,
A dark mist,
A palpable guilt,
As if the sea knows our illicit purpose,

A distant lighthouse stands guard,
Its light is our doom,
The tension is tangible,

The white coast is a reminder that we are outcasts,
The cliffs tell us we are doomed,
The chines call with a foil behind their backs,
The surf tries to drag us to the gallows,

Our vessel a prize for the law,
Our cargo a trophy for Customs,
The disquietude is discernible,

Waves lash at the hull like blades,
A far-off sentry spies us,
The sea knows,
The sea grins.

Smuggler

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Cerberus

Posted: August 3, 2017 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs, Writing

Cerberus

WorldofHarley

A continuation of ‘Festival Of Blood‘.

I was a bad man in life,
A nightmare in a mask,
Bringing luscious bloody release to innocents,
Before my festival of gore was cut short by firing squad,
But I’m back,
I claws my way out of hell,

But something followed me,
Something wants to drag me back,
Drag me back with fang and claw,
This infernal dread has a name,
Cerberus,
A real bad doggy,

A mass of muscle and maw,
Dark as the night,
And far more foreboding,
Three canine heads of such freakishness,
A trichotomy of insatiable mouths,
Slavering with the essence of hell-fire,

I am prey now,
A target for this unholy behemoth,
This guard dog of the underworld,
Its eyes seethe with crimson voracity,
It will hunt me for all eternity,
I can only flee,

I was a serial killer,
An apex predator,
But now me…

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The Unknown

Posted: July 3, 2016 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs, Writing

The Unknown

WorldofHarley

I gaze out of my window,
And up into the sky,
That sapphire display of experiences and worlds unknown,
That projection screen for hopes and fears,
I see other worlds that are out of reach,
Or are they imaginary?

The great azure sky looms over,
Acting as a backdrop for my minds eye,
The sun illuminates it,
Acting as a catalyst for what I see,
The clouds act their little plays,
Trying to obscure the enigmas I see,

I see worlds of splendor,
I see nightmare-scapes,
I see fiends and seraphs,
Horrors unbound,
And otherworldly monsters,
Oh the monsters,

Alien worlds that are wholly unknowable,
Stars shimmering every colour of this world,
And many that are not,
Worlds of untold beauty and potential,
And worlds of misery and black lightning,
I’ve seen these before in my dreams,

Then I become cognizant of something,
I was staring into a mirror all…

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No Power

Posted: June 29, 2016 in Poems, Random thoughts, Reblogs, Writing

No Power

WorldofHarley

I have a problem,
I seem to be lacking in power recently,
I’ve never really been pushed,
I’ve never been overcharged,
I’ve never been struck by lightning,
My consciousness lacks a certain electricity,

No power,
No motivation,
No current,
No ambition,
No voltage,
No impetus,

Do I need an electrician?
A new battery?
A new transistor?
A heart-shaped motor?
An inspirational amplifier?
Does my negative have no positive?

Why do I have no power?
Does my meter need some change?

Nopower

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