Imagination

If you could see into my mind,
And witness my imagination,
The cerebral alchemies at work,
You’d be both mystified and sickened,
Perhaps alarmed and inspired,
It’s a funhouse with no safety rails,
All ice creams and guillotines,
Clowns and lilies and landslides,
Horror and wonder beyond my eyes,

It’s a nirvana within a nightmare,
And vice versa,
But it is where my palette resides,
Harvested from the very fields of my wit,
The darks from gloom and hopelessness,
And colours flowing from my oddity,
All of this ink is required,
Regardless of its source,
To force this imagination on to the page.

Symbiote

I struggle to vocalise how my brain works,
What resides in its recesses,
But I say,
Within me is the Harlequin,
A clown of the dark,
An unhinged voice in the back of my head,
As crazy as he is,
He is ever on my side,
And I allow him in turn my poetic diction,
A symbiotic relationship,

He’s a part of me,
But also not,
He has his own thoughts,
While I am vapidity,
He is vivacity,
He has his own mind,
Demented as it is,
His own laugh,
Dwarfing my own,
But he gives me zeal,

We’re a team,
He needs my hands,
My paper,
My quill,
To bring our coalesced art to life.

Weird Guy

When I wake up in the afternoon,
I put my socks on my hands,
And it’s like having friends over,
Oh the conversations we have,
The guffaws we share,
A daydream in thespian method,

I’m a weird guy you see,
A certified eccentric,
A brain of butterflies and pendulums,
A clown in pyjamas,
I have a grin of ball point ink,
And a Cheshire cat in my chest,

I’m not normal,
Of this I cannot be ashamed though,
It’s a medal of honour,
Made of teaspoons and timepieces,
It’s insanity you see,
And that’s a mindset I cotton to.

Renegade

I don’t recall when,
But we eloped from the realm of normality,
Me myself and I,
Became curiously strange,
A rebel from sanity,
A highwayman on the outskirts,

It was indeed a crime to some,
And I was cruelly judged,
Flogged and pilloried,
Pebbles scraping at my painted smile,
Stepped on,
A grey screen held over my effulgent colours,

But I embrace this life of banditry,
I’m the Harlequin,
A heretic from the creed of routine,
I’m not you,
I’m not by the numbers,
I’m an unapologetic renegade.

Cellophane

I pulled that cellophane over my head,
Covering my mouth and ears promised clarity,
A carrier bag emergency exit,
A suicidal aegis,
To drown out the voices,
Those noises of normal society,
To nullify their edges,
Their droll criticisms,
And as each breath was stolen in plastic,
As the clear veil grew foggy,
It was as if a great weight had dissipated,
Like oxygen leaving blue lips,
Normality could scold me no longer.

Glitter

That glamourous material,
A full spectrum of colour in my hands,
Sand of the very stars,
Both kaleidoscopic and slapdash,
Beautiful but messy,
It reflects the light,
Turning the dull into prismatic disorder,
Rainbows in powder form,
Scaring away the droll,
It rains down upon my head,
It feels good,
And looks even better,
I have become an aurora borealis,
And my joy is flaunted in response.

Misfits

Who needs society?
Who needs normalcy?
We are not sheep,
No woolen coats here,
We are greater sapients,

Let’s be misfits,

Wear clown makeup and bright shades,
Dance unrestrained in paint,
Sing your favourite song off-key,
Whichever madness makes your little soul breath,
Live for yourself,

Live as a misfit,

Give mundanity an aneurysm,
Make that cruel pulse flat,
Let it die off,
Our souls wish to be unconfined,
They wish to dance among stars and zephyrs,

Become a misfit.

Monachopsis

I’m a misfit,
I’m socially awkward,
Do you know how I can tell?
It’s not the facepaint,
Nor the inability to smile normally,
It’s a certain intangible strain,

A subtle yet leaden weight,
Upon my soul,
A sense of monachopsis,
The burden of not belonging,
I’m in a person suit,
The public are not my tribe,

I lumber through hostile streets,
As if waistdeep through syrup,
Incomparably out of place,
A slovenly ghoul,
A shade of grey,
Passing through hued crowds,

I long to return home,
Domestic safety,
A raft away from the societal sharks,
I can be fluidly myself,
A rainbow within,
Dancing with my thoughts,

Please don’t make me go outside,
I don’t belong there.

A New Idea

Greetings inmates.

I’ve got a short one this time. I promise it will actually be short this time. You see, i had an interesting idea the other day. I explained it to Lee and she seemed to think it was a pretty good idea, despite my inability at the time to explain it very well. My mind was quite literally all over the place. I must have been rambling like a lunatic again! I’ll try to explain it a bit better here today. You see, it’s an idea for a new segment for the blog. I believe segment is the right term for it anyway. A bit like my writing music segment, for example.

As anybody who has read my blog knows, WorldofHarley is an asylum for creative derangement and originative absurdity. I picture it as a literal insane asylum that holds my poems and stories, with the inmates milling about here and there. I’m not entirely clear where this thought came from originally, but it is how i view my blog for what ever reason. Anyway, my segment idea was going to be called something along the lines of “Asylum Escapees”. Each ‘chapter’, if you will, of this segment would surround a different music artist, writer or actor who is known for their eccentricity or unusual characters. For example, Marilyn Manson, Till Lindemann or HP Lovecraft. I’d basically write about how each of these people were a fictional asylum escapee and how they’ve escaped. I’d also use the same opportunity to write about what i love about them and their work, from the perspective of a fictional doctor.

I just wanted to try a different kind of writing while still keeping to my “style”, if it can be called as such. Variety is the spice of life after all. So, i implore anybody who reads to tell me if they like this idea and perhaps make some suggestions? Any and all thoughts are appreciated, as always!

Have a very crazy day inmates! Oh, and happy St. Patrick’s day!