Posts Tagged ‘dark poetry’

There are things out there,
Things older than Father Time,
Heretical creatures of eyes and tentacles,
Multitudes of alien flesh,
Designs impossible in nature,

Rejected by sunlight,
They regard the world as fodder,
To look upon them is to witness insanity manifest,
To combat them madness itself,
Simply ask the husks of their victims,

We’ve been told,
If it bleeds we can kill it,
But what if it doesn’t bleed?
What if it is of the stars?
An abomination of a god.

There was a girl who longed for freedom,
Illuminated in urban neon,
Stood beside a cold drab road,
She put a thumb out,
A signal to the world,
That she wishes to escape this life,
For a car trip to anywhere,

A yearning into the universe,
To be an unidentified flying object,
To shift her lifes paradigm,
To surge under peachy cider skies,
Astral winds blowing in her hair,
Leather car interior expeditionary,
Devil of ennui in the rear view,

She’ll scale the borders,
Making use of every carriage timely,
From truck to hatchback to coupe,
Revelling in her independence,
Once the globe has felt her sight,
Will she return home I wonder?
Or partake another hitchhike onwards?

At times I am gaseous,
Formless,
Toxic,
Barely visible to the eye,
A haze on the periphery,
A vaporous outsider,

I am chemical unknown,
Free in the air,
Drifting aimlessly through existence,
Evidently harmful to pleasantries,
Allies retreat from my vapour,
I fear I am carbon monoxide,

I’m a pariah,
Social mustard gas,
Noxious to upstanding dialogue,
I don’t belong out there,
I belong in an airtight container,
An oubliette of four walls.

Beside me perches a dark omen,
An avian herald of ill outcomes,
An eye of Odin,
Such cold hunger in its obsidian sockets,
Why has he come?
Is it the end so soon?

Twitchy and cautious in demeanour,
Its beady oculi looking through me,
Perhaps focussing on the ripe spirit within,
I am carrion to this bird,
I know it,
But know not why,

He is joined by his murder of murderers,
A pack of little sin-eaters,
I can but only sit and watch in return,
They are no pale horse,
But to look upon them is to look upon true death,
An omen of the end.

There was a clown I knew,
Who had forgotten how to laugh,
Rendered grim by alcoholic smog,
His painted smile had become begrimed,
Layered in mahogany muck,
A metallic sheen of depression,

His outfit was tattered,
Ripped asunder by times razor,
No more a flamboyant ensemble,
His clown shoes were worn through,
Revealing yellowed toenails,
Comedic value turned to dirt,

No joy was to be seen in in his visage,
The years have oxidised his smile,
Sections of his form blowing away like iron dust,
I longed to tell him,
His laugh was not to be found in his glass,
He scornfully chuckled and downed his poison,

He’d rusted away.

A sickening snap,
Metallic jaws latching on,
An agonising let-up in my journey,
This travail through life,
It was a clumsy miscalculation,
A wrong turn,
Blades of foul intent,
Or perhaps a deterring voice,
As cutting as any trap,

Bones splinter,
As my plan is crushed,
Smashed betwixt dragons teeth,
On my path forward,
A trail into foggy terrain,
It is laden with such menaces,
Each mutilated step,
A new trial of metal jaws to struggle with,
Ever after.

Hello there inmates!

Here we are again! Another wednesday and another writing music post! How are you all? Having a nice week? Mine has been rather good. Stressful as it often is, but I have enjoyed it. I’m hoping my work this week has been to your liking. I realise there have been a few more sad or negative poems this week, but these are purely the subjects I’ve had on my mind. Do you think I dwell on negativity too much? I sometimes think so, but it seems to have become my “niche” if you like.

So, as for the writing music itself, I posted a clue for todays theme earlier on today. It was on my social media pages, which I’ll give the links for at the end. You guys should totally subscribe and follow! Hehe! So, the Harlequins Writing Music! Did anybody get the clue? The theme for todays writing music is sleep. Oh yes! One of my, and I daresay others, favourite pastimes. I spend too much time asleep and I shan’t apologise. It is where many feel they are safest. Where some feel most at peace. Others still just see it as the best way to pass time. As far me, I’m also a big advocate for dreaming. Aren’t dreams just fantastic? They’re so strange and surreal. Oh, the ideas they spill forth!

So, let’s have five songs today all about sleep or aspects of sleeping or dreaming. I wonder what I can come up with this week. Let’s see!

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

Eurythmics – Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)
https://www.eurythmics.com/

Aesthetic Perfection – The Ones
https://aesthetic-perfection.net/

The Chordettes – Mr. Sandman
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chordettes

Metallica – Enter Sandman
https://www.metallica.com/metclub/

Phaeleh – In The Twilight
https://phaeleh.co.uk/

And there we have it for another week!

How about those tunes eh? Different takes on sleeping and the night I think. Trying to keep it varied as I usually do, which actually seemed harder than I anticipated. As soon as it came to actually look up the artists, my mind seemed to go a bit blank this afternoon. Typical eh?

So, how about some social media nonsense? The asylum has a Facebook page, an account over on Instagram and even an account on Twitter! As always, 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!

Trauma is not a contest,
There is no prize,
Nobody claims a medal for suffering,
We all oppose its scythe,
The piles of glass it reduces us to,

When life shatters,
Like a church ransacked,
My pile of jagged shards is no greater,
No more lofty,
No more fabulous than yours,

Your agony is my agony,
And vice versa,
Pain takes no sides,
Has no favourites,
It just hurts.


Hiding in this sleeping quarry,
My mind is ore,
Hidden by a stony facade,
A rock face,
It’s not remotely precious,
Coal and iron and zinc comrades,
Merely one of a million,
Rough in a sea of diamonds,

Demons descend with their mining tools,
Clanging against my willpower,
Pickaxe climbing over pickaxe,
Chink after chink cleft asunder,
Mining for its own sake,
I know not why,
I am no treasure to them,
Not a gemstone,

Just a stone,
A pebble for the grinder.

When people look at me askance,
It must be due to my inhumanity,
As if I escaped from a zoo,
I’m a troglodyte,
Beneath even the street throng,
A subhuman,

I long to be human,
To be more than this primate clown,
Playing with sticks and berries,
I want to be one of them,
To evolve from this crude form,
To walk shoulder-to-shoulder with them,

Instead I shriek and crawl,
Not yet evolving into a man,
I howl in trees,
Revelling in my genetic inferiority,
Instead of maturing into society,
I shelter lifelong in the primeval habitat I made,

A habitat of reclusion,
Out in the wilds.