Good day inmates!

It’s your friendly neighbourhood Harlequin here, coming at you with a new post. I’m not sure why I opened with that, I wanted to be “street” for once. Haha! One hopes you’re all having a marvelous day. I’ve been getting out and about a little bit on my bike. Partly to break up the monotony of the weeks, but also partly to stop the bikes battery dying altogether. It’s happened before and it was no fun! Here’s hoping for the best eh?

The blog has been doing amazingly well this last week. We had the most views in one day just a few days ago. I was so humbled by it, I must confess. Also a couple days ago was the seventh anniversary of the asylums existence! It’s been one hell of a crazy ride, has it not?

So it’s time for the next edition of the Harlequins writing music! Part 34 already! Where does the time go? Well it’s going to be a “traditional” writing music post today. Five musical artists. Five artists worthy of your attention. In my opinion of course! As always I hope I include something for everyone.

So, join me as we delve into the musical minds of dignified artists the world over!

Hearts & Colors – Lion
https://www.facebook.com/heartsandcolors

Frank Klepacki – Act On Instinct
https://www.frankklepacki.com/

Eisbrecher – Verrückt
https://www.eis-brecher.com/

Embrace – Nature’s Law
http://www.embrace.co.uk/

Ava Max – Sweet but Psycho
https://www.avamax.com/

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

As always my friends, I hope that you give each of these artists a listen. I’ve tried to have a varied list to potentially entertain each and every one of you. Give them all a gander though, you will be pleasantly surprised I assure you. Also, yes I did include a song from an old PC game. Just because I could!

Once again, if you like what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-Fi page! It’d be a real honour!

Until next week, I bid you a very crazy day inmates!

Despite my unseemly form,
Writhing with inadequacies,
I was once a romantic at heart,
A passionate bard,
Singing the praises of my loves,
Seeing the light in the dark,

But it wasn’t to last,
One night was a turntable,
You came to me,
A snide succubus,
A bloody mary,
Lashing flames of erotic venom,

You meant only ill,
Your words brought me a stinging sensation,
As if needles pierced my lips,
Sewing my mouth shut,
You rendered me mute,
Voiceless,

After that hellish night,
My tongue shall never again utter romance,
I speak only with these inked words,
I’d need a scalpel,
To return my joy,
A glasgow smile of sorts,

Truth be told though,
It’s not worth severing these threads.

My girl,
You have an inferno about your aura,
You’ve got bridges to burn,
Past errors and trysts to incinerate,
Memories for the pyre,

I watch you set your explosives,
A vessel for your reformation,
Full of rageful gunpowder,
Shrapnel of past insults,
Souls past are just collateral damage,

You look away,
Perhaps to shield your dewy eyes,
Or perhaps to dither,
Does the past still hold dominion?
Do you wish to wallow in it?

Ignite your charge,
Blow the bridge sky high,
Reduce it to ash and nothingness,
Consign it to antiquity,
You’re an engineer of your future now.

I slept,

I lost my teeth last night,
They were taken by little hands,
Shadowy hands,
Teeming from every nook and cranny,
Of this shaded cell,
A host of impish incubi,

I stirred,

I can’t fight back,
Sleep paralysis,
The image of the hag holds me down,
My eyes simply spectate,
This sinister comedy,
The hands mock my seeming,

I woke,

I need my teeth,
For without them,
How am I to entertain the guests?
The lords and ladies,
The drunkards and jezebels,
I’ll be a waking pariah,

I cried.

From these shores,
To many others,
Red,
Blue,
Green,
Flag after flag,
Of all stripes,
Strawmen are erected,

Fallacies are spawned,
Ideas are distorted,
And eviscerated,
To sate a tribal idealism,
Debates become bloodbaths,
Scholars lose themselves,
And become cut-throats,
With fallacious dirks,

Being right is the only victory,
Even as sense must be sacrificed,
Herbal teas spilled,
The diplomatic table is in flames,
Chessboards and statistics,
Logic has become smoke,
The strawman still stands.

I long to be a mime,
A monochrome shadow,
Dancing in the streets,
Rain or shine,
Not a word past these lips,

Exaggerated actions,
My body a theatre piece,
A human prop,
Abstracting life into theatrics,
Grist for mortal eyes,

Countless acts of humans,
Taking your lifestyles,
And I stylize them,
Shine them through an invisible box,
Against an invisible storm,

Even as I fluidly perform,
A flamboyant charleston,
To an audience of drones,
My frown is permanently painted,
The showers don’t wash it off,

A mimes lament is invisible too.

One must hunt,
Kill to live,

On all fours,
Sniffing,
Snarling,
Baying for blood and gore,
All saliva and pheromones,

I must kill,
To feed on fur and tissue,
To sate the maw within,
The forest fires take over,
A hellish descent,

Through the grim mist,
I catch that scent,
A bouquet of optimism and sun,
Of autumn and seasoned venison,
A life to be cut short,

I see crimson,

The doe falls easily,
Hamstrung and gutted,
Formally so full of bounce and life,
Her eyes become as the void,
A rattling mirror of dark,

The bloody form contorts,
A doe no longer,
Prey no more,
But a murder,
My humanity torn.

Hello there inmates!

One hopes you’re all having a great day today! There isn’t very much to report of the asylum front. Things are running smoothly, at a fair rate of knots. I’ve actually been really quite happy with my last few poems, which is a rarity for me I can tell you for nothing. I’ve been sleeping a fair bit better the last week or so though, so that has definitely been a significant morale boost as well. Routine. Routine. Routine.

And as always, i’ve been humbled and charmed by the incomparable kindness of my fellow inmates! Your comments really do bring a smile to this old painted face. It has caused quite a contented chuckle from the other voices as well. We love you guys!

So, it’s time for part 33 of the Harlequins writing music! I have decided to do something a tiny bit different today. I’m still going to include five different musical artists, but this time all of the songs I pick will be covers. I find a good cover gives a new meaning and life to even an archaic song. The context could even change, a twist on the original. They most certainly have merit in my eyes. That is not to say that songs are bad because they’re older though of course! You can always have both! Here’s a few of my favourites!

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

Johnny Cash – Hurt (Nine Inch Nails cover)

Home

Mr Strange – It’s A Sin (Pet Shop Boys cover)
http://www.mrstrangemedia.com/

Frog Leap Studios – Duality (Slipknot Cover)

Home

Disturbed – The Sound Of Silence (Simon and Garfunkel Cover)
https://www.disturbed1.com/

Machinae Supremacy – Gimme More (Sid) [Britney Spears Cover]
https://www.machinaesupremacy.com/

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

I hope that you enjoy all of these covers today my fellow inmates! I just fancied doing something a tad different for this weeks writing music post. As always, I hope you give each of these artists a try, whether it be their covers or original songs.

Once again, if you like what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-Fi page! Thanks for all the support!

Until next time, I shall bid you a good day, doff my hat to you and wish you a very crazy day inmates!

I’m a man of words,
But not of talking,
Not of tongues,
If I attempt it,
My throat gains an eerie rasp,

When I behold you,
I try to sweetly exalt,
The words in my mind,
Cradled in lilac and sugar,
Flying on wings of cherubs,

But the words inexplicably contort,
Into an unearthly sound of breath,
Of hellish design,
My tongue rebels,
A shrill auditory talent show,

I appear a banshee,
Spewing screams,
All nerves and sinew,
A nonsensical wheeze,
No longer angelic,

My eyes gaping,
Your answer so desirous,
Yet also apocalyptically alarming,
It could make me rasp,
It could kill me.

I love this city,
I walk it day and night,
The streets are a banquet of sight and sound,
I wouldn’t change them for anything,
Though they be as grungy as my longcoat,

A bedlam of suit and tie ants,
A compost heap of taxes and bills,
Seething like a corpse,
With all the magic and horror,
That mankind can muster,

So I aimlessly frolick,
Amongst these concrete orchards,
Full of silicon souls,
And hollow men,
They avoid my kind gaze,

I didn’t long for this life,
This squalid existence,
It was a sour gift,
From the louts at the bank,
These fingerless gloves weren’t outstretched,

But a mans got to eat,
Back to work,
So I raise my wooden banner,
“Will work for food”,
A grimy tear falls.