Posts Tagged ‘history’

In a dozy West Virginian town,
An urban legend takes flight,
Holding dominion over a pleasant night sky,
Over highways and young couples,
It’s never in true focus,
A humanoid shape obscured,
Huge crimson lanterns for eyes,
And wings shimmering with prophecy,
Bird or moth or demon?
Nobody shall ever know,
Wings simply flutter,
And bridges fall.

You must be a cartographer in this life,
Despite what some say,
You have to find your own way,
The years offer no signposts,
Nor safe havens to rest,
You’ll concoct your own journey through decades,
The good and bad,
Plot a course to avoid the Bermuda triangles,
Those treacherous reefs of liars and hurt,
Serpentine sharks and heckling jackals,
The need for navigation never ceases,
The years want you to be adrift,
Will you be lost like Leichhardt?
Or will you be Amelia Earhart?
A failure or a legend?

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.

That humble little beetle,
Oft regarded as vermin,
A shoveler of dung,
But it’s a talisman,
A pearlescent amulet,
The god Khepri on Earth,

An icon of regeneration,
Carved of stone or faience or jasper,
These creatures are the heavenly cycle,
Day to night to sunrise,
Life to death to rebirth,
The inescapable truth,

Indeed,
Even within your funerary casket,
You’ll still find a scarab,
Sewed on to your chest,
Wings splayed,
Waiting for your return in rolled dung.

When you lay your head,
Best pray the moon is vigilant,
As the sun can’t help you now,
And the night is treacherous,
There are things in the dark,
Colourless eyes in the dark,
Watching from the stairwell,

A pale form shrouded in sable,
The sound of bats and deceased choirs,
Immortal thirst in the dark,
A craving from ancient Romania,
Fangs in the dark,
Held in a maw of aristocracy,
A dead lord of the night,

Fear personified,
Your night made lethal,
A single name,
Nosferatu.

I admire the philosophers,
The thinkers,
Those followers of wisdom,
Those Platos and Nietzches,
Those who deign to study reality and existence,
Thankless profession as it is,

Unlike the astronomers,
Who look outward,
To that more tangible mystery,
These souls look deep inside,
Into that primordial mass that is humanity,
The wiles of our nature,

They ask questions,
Is there meaning in life?
What is consciousness?
Are there deities?
Fate or free will?
Positing enigmas ad infinitum,

Yet they shout into the void,
No concrete answers will echo back,
And for that,
I admire these personages,
Because they understand that basic tenet,
Philosophy is to know that you know nothing.

Hello there inmates!

I didn’t see you lurking there! How are you all doing? Having a nice week so far? That’s wonderful to hear! It’s been a rather eventful one for me too. I actually started a new job this week, which has given me the opportunity to get out and about a bit more. Hopefully make some new friends too eh? The weather has been absolutely bizarre. Thunderstorm after hot sun after rainstorm. It simply can’t make its mind up. It’s quite frustrating when you’ve got to travel by bike. Haha!

Anyway, let’s get on to the meat of todays post. The reason that you’re all here, theoretically. The Harlequins writing music! I always find it breaks up the week quite nicely, between my poems. A reprieve, if you will. Did anybody see todays theme clue? It’s a slightly harder one to explain if I’m honest. And potentially something of a red herring.

Todays musical theme is… high school! Or rather “high school never ends”. The clue I used today was from the music video of the Bowling For Soup song by the same name. Clever eh? But what do I mean by this one? Songs based around school wouldn’t be all that interesting after all. Well, no. Todays musical theme is more centred around showing you all a few of the songs/artists that I “started with” back in the day. The favourite songs and bands of my formative years. The music that has contributed to shaping my tastes these days. Angsty teenage Harley was a bit of a plonker, but present Harley has a lot to thank him for on the musical front. Want to hear some of the music that I listened to in my bedroom on my PC or iPod? Let’s try it eh?

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

Coheed and Cambria – Welcome Home
https://www.coheedandcambria.com/

She Wants Revenge – True Romance
https://www.shewantsrevenge.com/

My Chemical Romance – Helena
https://www.mychemicalromance.com/

Linkin Park – Numb
https://www.linkinpark.com/

The Shanklin Freak Show – The Light Fantastic
https://www.facebook.com/theshanklinfreakshow/

And there we have it! What did you think of those eh? There were so many others that I could have included on this one, but I’d be here for eons. I may even ending up doing this theme again some time. So, from listening to these, you may be able to see how they have influenced my own writing style, creative endeavours and indeed this asylum as well. I really suggest listening to all of these, they definitely deserve the attention. It’s nice to look back and see how far I’ve come.

Speaking of nice, would you be to me? Maybe follow me on social media? The asylum has a page over on Facebook, an account over on Instagram and even a page on Twitter. Please consider following on those as well, it really helps me out. Also, if you really enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page as well. Thanks for everything!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!

After an arduous quest,
She finally returned,
With nary a parade or fanfare,
Not an inkling of celebration,
Quietly gracing our fair township,
Armour sundered and blade shattered,
She had slain the minotaur,
Its labyrinth and reign of bloodshed,
She took no trophy though,
The deed was reward enough,

Exhausted she meandered the streets,
An unknown,
No citizen paid her any mind,
No accolades graced her hands,
Not a single coin as reparation,
No recognition for the gift she’d imparted,
The blood she’d spent,
But alas,
That’s what being a true hero is,
Altruism in plate armour.

This world is split into petty fiefdoms,
Swathes of land divided haphazardly,
Lines painted in blood and oil,
An unnatural barrier with great sway,
With the common folk cut betwixt masters,
Made unwilling foes,
A race split into us and them,
Fighting wars over borders pencilled in by dead men,

As they laugh in their coffins,
Already bedded with their winnings,
These lines,
Their artistic carving of dirt,
Impels us to be unwitting conscripts,
Speaking in munitions rather than parlance,
Trading antagonisms as readily as grain,
Dividing us ever further.

To those of us about to die,
To each patriot and scallywag among our number,
To the men sailing for King and country,
Fair winds and following seas,

To those lads about to be run through,
The bodies soon to be broken and burned,
The men butchered by shrapnel and cannon,
Fair winds and following seas,

To those mothers and widows-to-be,
The saints left on home soil,
Those with newly cold beds,
Fair winds and following seas,

To those who’ll survive though mangled,
Cursed with phantom limbs and shellshock,
To the victims whose minds are now ravaged,
Fair winds and following seas,

To those names laid in granite before me,
To those lads who have earned a final rest,
Now upon clouds or burning in flames,
Fair winds and following seas.