Cliff Ballet

The beats of life are undeniably beautiful,
But treacherous by the same measure,
Like performing ballet on a cliff edge,
A knife blade,
A ciseaux through the years,
From the first position to a precarious cabriole,
All smiles while waltzing upon pointy stones,
It is a radiant performance,
Worthy of a standing ovation,
But all take bets on which foot will slip first,

This chalk stage of existence,
It’s a steep cliff face,
One we all ply our trade upon,
What lies below doesn’t bear thinking about,
Waves and scythes,
Dashing rocks and terminal coral,
It’s built upon limestone and inevitability,
In this great dance of life,
Even a prima ballerina tires,
We all slip eventually.

Bassline

Do you feel that bass?
That tone in the atmosphere,
A low hum in sequence,
Pounding like artillery,
You begin to sway at the sound,
Intoxicating as it is,
It’s a legal high,
A sonic assault upon your composure,
A hysteria of the limbs,
It threatens to shatter your shell,
Make you move against your judgement,

It’s only a matter of time,
The beat continues unabated,
You’ll dance to this bassline,
With a grin that’d make the joker blush.

Some writing music: Part 99

Hello there inmates!

How’s the week going for y’all? It’s been rather nice for me I’ll admit. I’ve been satisfied with my writings over the last week, just for a change. But more importantly, it was mine and Tashs 1 year anniversary on monday! We had a lovely day together and went out for a meal for the first time in my recent memory. I tried my best to give my beautiful muse a day to remember. I can be a bit of a soppy git at times. Mind you, I can be a moody git as well. That’s the human mind for you eh?

It’s time for another edition of the Harlequins writing music! I can’t believe I’ve gotten to part 99 of this madness! I’ve gone for a nice and positive theme for this weeks display. Did anybody guess from the clue I posted? You did look right?

Oh yes, the theme for todays music is dance! Bet you didn’t see that one coming. It’s true though. The rhythmic magic that humanity has turned to all kinds of art over the many years we’ve existed. Music and dance go hand in hand, for obvious reasons. The way the body moves is sometimes a subject for a song, or sometimes the music comes first and causes said movement. The two elements are like twins that have slightly different methods of exhibiting themselves. Two sides of the same coin, so to speak. The way that dance can truly make somebody’s day is something to be celebrated. I’m told it’s a form of therapy even. It’s not something I feel comfortable doing myself, but I’m glad it can help others. I’m really rambling a bit here, aren’t I? So, want to hear some music that makes me think of dancing? Let’s do this my friends!

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

Dancin – Aaron Smith
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aaron_Smith_(DJ)

PA PA YA – Babymetal
https://www.babymetal.com/en/

Night Fever – Bee Gees
https://www.beegees.com/

Superstition – Stevie Wonder
http://www.steviewonder.net/

Eiffel 65 – Blue (Da Ba Dee)
https://www.eiffel65.com/

And there we have it! I just had to include the Bee Gees, they’re the epitome of funk! I hope that these tunes give a little bounce to your day and give you that little push to get your jig on. Give them all some love for me eh? They all deserve the attention. I’ll be sad if I don’t hear that you lot have been dancing along!

Right, now for something a little less dancer-oriented! The asylum has a page over on Facebook, an account on Instagram and a page over on Twitter. If you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page! Thanks for everything!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!

Red Dance

In these scorching months,
Me and the sun continue our samba,
It’s this crimson dance we do every year,
Me and that solar predator,
Nuclear in her vivacity and brilliance,
Our dancefloor is the open blue sky,
My skin gripes in the heat,
Painted red in the radiation,

I don’t scream,
Even as my flesh sizzles,
The mercury rising is the chorus we sway to,
I’m a glowing one,
This summer dance cannot go on long enough,
I revel in the swelter,
My sweat only the toll I pay,
To not feel the grip of winter again.

The Arts

Folks always extol the worth of certain souls,
Sportsmen and craftsmen and merchants,
Politicians and drivers and hairdressers,
They glorify the benefits these have upon their lives,
Overt blessings upon their lives,
But do they think of the artists?
A true unifying force of human nature,

Less important?

Less palpable in their perks perhaps?
Sculpture to break up the monotony of construction,
Literature to open the mind,
Music to bring an emotive bounce to your being,
Paintings to lay bare invisible elements of the human condition,
Theatre to bring to life stories of eons,
Dancing to exhibit human beauty in mobile styles,

Less important?

Imagine your day without television or busker melodies,
Your living space without beautifying icons,
Without the great paintings of historical genius,
These may not keep your body alive,
But they breath life into your soul,
We need the arts to be human,
And not mere machines.

Battle Dancer

As I lay incapacitated,
Upon this grassy knoll,
My shoulder and lung run through,
By barb of crossbow bolt,
I spy my Lady-General,

A maiden of war,
This carnage is her dance,
Dashing from dance partner after dance partner,
Bestowing upon them crimson terminal flourishes,
Spewing ribbons and pyrotechnics to applause of screams,

This theatre,
Spanning over ruined meadows,
With fire and arrows overhead,
A charnel drama,
Host to my Ladys baneful ballet,

Chinks in mail,
Gaps in plate,
All find spots for her blades,
She leads the way,
Bringing the wardance to the enemy,

Morosely she kneels at my side,
“We are War”,
“But your dance is over”,
Wistfully pecking me farewell,
I fade into the abyss.

Rondo Of Knives

I am chased,
By hounds in white and blue,
My dress torn in the panic,
They slaver monstrously,
I know not why,
I only performed my nightly dance,
An energetic noctural song,

It was a frenetic dance I’ll admit,
Sensual and rabid all at once,
All rondos are,
I know my dance partner was somewhat loud,
He was inebriated and untried after all,
He was a simple drunken sap,
But I’ve elevated him to art,

My dance partner fell down,
Maybe the dogs want to help him,
He shrieked wicked ecstacy,
He painted the stage in such crimson,
A scent of iron and sweat,
With my terminal flourish,
The rondo of knives,

Each step punctuated with a jab,
Each stab releasing ribbons,
As he collapsed wide-eyed,
I asked him if I was a beautiful dancer,
No answer,
My knife applauded at least,
My biggest fan,

The applause almost dampened the sirens.