Posts Tagged ‘Facebook’

Hello there inmates!

How are you all doing today? Keeping this artistic forges burning hot I hope! That’s what I’ve been trying to do as well. Keeping my brain busy you know? Just trying not to let the thoughts stray too far into the darker regions. I’m back on the laptop this week as you may be able to tell. Using the WordPress app to write last weeks edition was something of a needless struggle, so I resolved to stick to the desktop version this time. I’ll be curious to hear the thoughts of everybody on that. Anybody else create their blog posts using the app? Or is that a cardinal sin?

So anyway, on to the music for this week! Did anybody get the clue for todays’ writing theme? It was a fairly evident one honestly. It was a picture of a television. So what can we deduce from that? Well, it’s not as abstruse as it could be. I’m not clever enough for that! Haha. Todays theme is simply any music that relates to television or the media. I may or may not include theme songs in there. I haven’t decided at the stage of writing this section. Music and TV go hand-in-hand as you would imagine, you can’t really have captivating television without any music right? So many shows are recognised only on the first few notes of their theme songs. One that always sticks with me is the beginning of the Simpsons theme. On a completely different note, some music talks about the negative effects that too much screen time can have upon the human psyche. Or the effects of advertising and commercialism. Again, I seem to keep going on tangents like this don’t I? Let’s just get some music going please!

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

Dire Straits – Money For Nothing
https://www.direstraits.com/

Jake Shears – Do The Television
https://twitter.com/jakeshears?lang=en

Frog Leap Studios – Pokemon Theme (Cover)
https://www.frogleapstudios.com/

Eisbrecher – Was Ist Hier Los?
https://www.eis-brecher.com/presse.html

Jenna Russell – Red Dwarf
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jenna_Russell
http://www.howardgoodall.co.uk/

And there we have it for another edition of the Harlequins writing music! What do you think? Do you think I had a reasonable variety of television-oriented songs here? I particularly enjoyed including a couple theme songs in there. That last one is a particular favourite of mine. The show is great as well. I hope you check out all of these artists as well. They all deserve the esteem to be honest!

So, let’s be having some social media spiel! The asylum has a presence on a variety of social media platforms. I have an account on Facebook, an account over on Twitter and it also has a page on Instagram. Please consider following and subscribing me over on those pages too. I share clues for my poems a few hours ahead of time. It’s all a bit fun you know! Also, 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!

Under thundery skies of white,
Came the rumble of tracks,
And the boom of gunnery,
A boreal front is rent open,
An iron cross enclosing upon an eastern jugular,
Hammer and sickle on the backfoot,
Surrender was no option,
And so flesh was ground against iron,
The blitzkrieg was on,

Two flags spiral around each other in dispute,
Cities and fields become their shrapnel market,
Lives were the currency paid in full,
But both fate and snow had other ideas,
The winter came to its sons aid,
Freezing fuel and choking soldiers in grey,
Another weapon against the iron cross,
Like the little emperor before,
This evil could not weather the winterstorm.

There’s a fine line between justice and crime,
And some walk that line haphazardly,
They choose not to defer to authority,
And take matters into their own hands,
Vengeance rarely looks like a courtroom,
And it is never a portrait,
More often it is spent cartridges in an alley,
Bullet and hammer and blade,
These are the tools of the vigilante,
These are the judge and jury,
And the will behind them is the executioner.

These two vocal veterans,
Battle-hardened are they indeed,
Atop opposing monolithic podiums,
They are upon the field of discourse,
Wielding scholarly tongues as arsenals,
Knights jousting in the air before them,
Fleur-de-lys amidst silver,
Words as blades,
Morning stars in each argument,

Parry and riposte,
The fronts shift as voices are heard,
Aural dogfights between gentlemen,
Neither giving too much ground,
There is decorum in this violence,
This is no bloodbath,
Who shall concede?
It matters little,
As long as knowledge is garnered by each party.

Do you still hear her voice?
A solemn call in the brume,
As the nights grow more beastly,
As the winds grow ever in tempo,
And winters spectre peers from behind trees,

Do you feel her caress?
By the fireside,
Under that sedate harvest eve,
As the atmosphere swims in sandalwood,
And the breeze tears up that amber carpet,

Autumn comes every year,
And it is a season of entropy,
So tell me,
Do you still hear her voice,
Upon autumns mournful boughs?

They tell me that I’m alright,
And I may well be,
But a cruel occasion has reared its head,
Joy seems to be held behind a veil,
I simply don’t feel it,
I’m not sad either,
Just hollow,

Pleasure is a memory,
One that feels like an echo,
One that I’m unsure really happened,
I do smile ear to ear,
But it’s just sketched on,
I have a painted smile,
From the palette of social expectation,

Sensations turned down like a volume control,
Hobbies become trials,
Food and drink taste like static,
Humans become boogeymen,
It’s a curious phenomenon,
Perhaps of a mind cracking,
Or a man broken by the world.

I stand here upon a bloodstrewn field,
Bones are the grain we have sowed,
The apocalypse is come,
A sulphuric clarion call,

The eclipse rests above as our spectator,
As well as our reason for being,
A monochrome eye,
Our god in the sky,
A fiery circle of untold power,

A ritual was preordained,
A circle spelt out in moonlight,
We had been waiting,
Though still unnerved,

The circular hate is palpable,
A spheroid hate above us,
An insult to the moon,
We are an apocalypse in huddled corners,
A destructive hate held in raucous voices.

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.

I’ve heard upon the grapevine,
Violence is the music of the streets,
When a body hits the tarmac,
And no saviour is around to hear it,
Does it make a noise?

I say yes,
Each thump and kick is percussion,
A backset to our tarmac orchestra,
Each cracked rib is a shrill trumpet,
The screams are background static,

It’s a painful song,
Played by novices in hooded shirts,
They’re proud of their work nonetheless,
Perpetrators scurrying away is their crescendo,
Followed by applause and gurgles.

When the worlds teeth clamp too deep,
I retreat to my safe haven,
This fabric hovel,
Threads and strands as seedy as my form,
A veil against human elements,
It keeps me safe and secure,
A suit of tattered armour,
Acquired at the thrift store,

Clad in plum tabard,
I’m clear of any prying eyes,
Overzealous words,
And clasping hands,
It’s a simple thing,
To feel impervious,
But no force in this world can grant it,
Save for this haven of a textile.