Posts Tagged ‘death’

On this day,
Put on your sunhats and bathing suits,
Grab your towels and sun cream,
For we are all tourists,
Not in Rome,
Not in Tokyo,
Nor in Lapland,
Not even your local beach,

But tourists of life,
It’s a holiday of decades,
Under many suns and moons,
A limited booking,
With activities for every ilk,
Scholarly or athletic or otherwise,
Our time is limited,
But the possibilities are limitless,

This existence is a vacation,
A long stay in a terrestrial hotel,
And nobody knows their checkout time.

Oh women of Italia and beyond,
Do you suffer in your daily lives?
Bruised by the fists of an abusive spouse?
Is even your home an unsafe arena?
Rush ye to Lady Tofana,
She may hold your salvation,
Though it shall cost you your virtue,

She shall offer you a deadly solution,
The poisoners bounty,
Lead and arsenic and belladonna,
All wrapped up in cosmetic mask,
With St. Nicholas presiding,
A tasteless and crystal clear death sentence,
For that special man in your life,

An unsavoury state of affairs perhaps,
But when a woman is pushed too far,
There may be no other recourse,
Than to call on Lady Tofana,
And her Manna di San Nicola.

Death is a panther,
You cannot spy it amongst the bush,
But you know it hunts you,
Hunts us all,

A killing machine to the bone,
Scythe-like fangs,
And eyes trained on your every breath,
Following your scent since birth,

Its claws rasp across grass and asphalt both,
Its hunt could take years,
Decades even,
But this feline always gets its meat,

Death is a panther,
It’s a grizzly or falcon or barracuda,
It’s an apex predator,
Not formed of flesh and blood,

But of solemn inevitability.

Does a headstone speak to you too?
Do you hear their voices?
Friends and family from beyond?
You’re not imagining it,

There is an energy among the resting,
A family reunion through cemetery gates,
A last chance at reconciliation,
Or chastisement,
   
Life lessons,
Spiritual advice,
Placations too late
And loving words missed,

It’s meditative,
The feeling behind you,
That is your ancestors behind you,
And they are your allies.

Heed it.

The symphony commences,
As the sky grows dark,
Metallic warnings in the air,
Cacophonous and shrill,
Like lost souls lamenting the plight of the living,
From their vantage points,
Those sirens have seen the approaching flags,
Riding upon rockets and helicopter blades,
Their hymn warns of fire and brimstone,
Depleted uranium fireworks,
This is no party tune,
But the raucous dirge of a nation.

I remember that quill,
And the desiccated hand that led it,
Candles barely illuminating the dread at work,
Manipulated by the rotten hand of a poet,
Skeletal and rank fingers ushering the pens path,
Fetid flakes of flesh falling upon the page,

This ancient quill,
A veteran of many campaigns,
Wars of calligraphy and manuscripts,
Crafted from the feather of a long-extinct bird,
A yellowed shako worn atop,
This tool was marshal for the ink spot rank and file,

In this writing desk mortuary,
The musk of death runs deep,
Poet and pen rotting together,
Twin tombstones upon a page,
Writing like this is a form of necromancy,
Horror creating beauty.

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.

Good day inmates!

Happy new year! I know it was a few days ago, but that was for everyone I hadn’t got the chance to wish well. I hope you all had some grand celebrations. I think you all deserve it after the last couple years eh? Did many of you have to nurse a monster hangover afterwards? I’m genuinely curious. I had a bit of a quiet one myself. Not due to lack of invitations, but rather a distinct lack of energy. As it happens, it was also my birthday on the 2nd as well. Happy birthday to me and all that. Another year closer to the grave eh? Haha!

So, it’s time for the first edition of the Harlequins writing music of 2022! I wish I could claim I’m going to do something special, but alas, not this time my friends. It’s going to be a pretty standard showing. I hope that isn’t the negative it sounds in my head. Did anybody see the clue earlier today? I quite liked that one as I’m rather fond of that kind of artwork.

Well, now for the “big” reveal! Todays musical theme is the macabre! I don’t know if you knew this, but the generally grisly, morbid and darkest things have informed much of my creativity for years. Poetry about the undead, monsters, death and yes, those darn serial killers. Sure, much of my work is political, philosophical, satirical or just generally wacky in nature but I find it hard to conceal my interest in the macabre. It’s not everybody’s cup of tea, but the darker aspects of the world and human experience are not to simply be shirked. They are as real and unavoidable as the reaper itself. Art is not always aesthetically pleasing. I watch a lot of horror movies and shows alright? It’s not my fault. So, want to hear some music inspired by the darker aspects of the mind? I knew you would!

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

Gothminister – The Sun
https://www.gothminister.com/

Brothers Osborne – Skeletons
https://www.brothersosborne.com/

Ghostemane – Bonesaw
https://www.ghostemane.com/

Rammstein – Stirb Nicht Vor Mir
https://www.rammstein.de/en/

Ghostfire – Vaudevillain
https://www.youtube.com/c/ghostfiremusic/

And there we have it once again! Some interesting artists there no? I actually tried to avoid the obvious macabre choice of just loads of gothic bands. That would have been a little too easy I feel. Cradle of Filth, Tiamat or Behemoth wouldn’t be bad choices if you’re into those kinds of bands. Also the Tiger Lillies and Creature Feature! I hope you find something that you enjoy here anyway. Check them all out, they all deserve the attention you know!

Speaking of attention, mind if I have some? I have social media sites you know! The asylum has a page over on Facebook, an account on Instagram and a page on Twitter as well. Please consider checking out those pages for random stuff! Also, if you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page too! Thanks for everything!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!

Throughout this thousand year war,
Numberless threads have been severed,
Both political and carotid,
Every fall gives rise to a cult,
A coven of worms,
A morbid congregation drawn together,
Each elongated creature both priest and disciple,

Each slain prince or pauper,
Becomes a temple of writhing masses,
Another prone parish of rot,
Erected on putrescent pillars,
Ribcages holding up their necrotic chapels,
Flesh is chewed away in ritual feasts,
Marrow supped like wine from bone,

These cultists are no fiends though,
It’s simply the way of the world,
Entropy and taxes being the only certainties,
Even the most triumphant and grand of us,
Shall be naught but a temple for the worms,
Little more than grisly alms,
Meat for the cult.

Among those fearsome boreal raiders,
When a warrior falls,
Respects must be paid,
For a warrior to rest easy,
Like a toll to the reaper,
A gift to the hereafter,
Like any legendary fighter has a moniker,
A warriors sword too has a name,
A hero in its own right,
And like any partner would hope for,
It was interred beside him,
The warriors sword was bent double,
Granted a warriors death itself,
And covered in the same graveyard dirt,
To lay still in the same valhalla.