Posts Tagged ‘human nature’

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.

Spare a thought for the terraces,
The rows and rows of townhouses,
Laid together like crops,
Young families and single parents and renters,
Elbow to elbow,
Like sardine cans of red brick,

And like a harvest,
They are the Mans bounty,
A store shelf of useful bodies,
The working class of corn and hops,
Average Joes and Janes,
Meat for the stock market butcher,

These people,
In their streets of grey,
They weren’t born to work,
But they need work to subsist,
Captive livestock so to speak,
And the terraces provide.

I once met a woman,
In a side street sideshow,
All lavender veils and candles,
A purported soothsayer of old,
A fortune teller,

It was as if she saw the future,
As if an eye had opened upon her brow,
She spoke of things that hadn’t happened,
Conversations and marriages and heartbreaks,
Crashes and illnesses and revels,

She spoke with such artistry and vim,
Firmly and sincerely,
I could only believe her,
It could only be the truth,
Breaks in the dream,

She had also seen the end,
Not of you and I,
But of everything,
Despite my requests and coin,
She would not reveal how.

One dark night not long ago,
Under the vigil of the full moon,
I metered the fathoms of my soul,
Plunging deep into the boreal waters,
Unexplored and abyssal,
There a quake had altered the sandy animus,

The tides have shifted,
The waves have chosen a new path,
I have chosen a new path,

Previously a filthy stowaway,
Is now an admiral,
What once was a worm,
Is now a sea serpent in a storm,
Bait swelling to become behemoth,
A minnow becomes a shark,

I am my own ocean,
I’m no longer beholden to the tides of others,
I’m no longer drowning.

Is it blindness that hides pain from our eyes?
The struggle of others,
The ruined mascara and sweat,
The lines of strain penned upon their faces,
Our eyes seem to cloud over at the spectacle,
An unfeeling milky grey,
Our hands cupped over our minds eye,

How are we so blind?
Or do we not want to see it?
We say it’s none of our business,
That they’ll pull through,
You don’t need a reason to help,
Nor a reward,
So pry open those damn eyes,

Is it blindness?
Truly?
Or is it selfishness?

Good day inmates!

And how are we all finding the week so far? Nobody has melted yet I hope. It’s certainly been muggy enough. It actually feels slightly cooler at time of writing, but I can still feel my palms being a little bit clammy. Isn’t that just the epitome of attractiveness eh? Anyways, it’s been an alright week here so far. The local “world renowned” festival known as Cowes Week is in full swing right now so the town is remarkably busy at the moment. For those who don’t know, Cowes Week is a yachting or sailing event that is one of the main things this particular town is known for. Perks of being a sailors port I guess? In practice, it means lots of drunk people, lots of traffic and above average levels of noise. It can be a lot of fun though.

Speaking of fun, did anybody get todays musical theme clue? It was less a clue and more of a obvious indicator really. It was really pretty obvious what it was saying. You’d only see if you follow my social media pages though. I’m sure you adorable little inmates do that though right? I’m winking, if anybody couldn’t guess.

So, todays musical theme. You see, I was between nightmares last night and a random thought came to me: I’d never tried maple syrup. One thing led to another and I found myself listening to a Canadian music artists playlist on Youtube. So, as that extremely random analogy may reveal, todays musical theme is the great nation of Canada. One of the more well-known and larger members of the Commonwealth, I tend to refer to Canada as the really polite neighbour of the USA. That’s not saying anything about Americans, but I just feel Canadians have that stereotype about them eh? It’s yet another country on my ever-increasing list of places I’d love to visit. Toronto in particular has always intrigued me. Until that playlist last night I hadn’t realised just how many ground-breaking artists are actually Canadian. Quite a few of them I mistook for American or even British artists. I doublechecked those on todays list though I promise. Want to see what I came up with? By the way, no I’m not including Nickelback. Just no.

That aside, join me as we delve into the musical minds of Canadian artists… the world over?

The Birthday Massacre – Looking Glass
https://thebirthdaymassacre.com/

Leonard Cohen – Hallelujah
https://www.leonardcohen.com/

Billy Talent – Rusted From The Rain
https://billytalent.com/

Theory of a Deadman – Not Meant To Be
https://www.theoryofficial.com/strangers

Alanis Morissette – Head Over Feet
https://alanis.com/

And there we have it my friends! I appear to have begun growing moose horns after listening to those a few times. Might be hard to put the top hat on but I’ll work it out. Did you enjoy todays musical choices? Bit of a mix today eh? I hope you check all of these artists out, especially if you aren’t familiar. I would recommend them all!

Now, time for my usual scheduled shilling! The asylum has a page over on Facebook where I post random stuff and clues for my poems ahead of time. I also have a Instagram account and a page over on Twitter as well! Please consider checking them out at some point. 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!

I do say,
When these months rear their head,
The summer sky hypnotises the world,
It appears to shift every dynamic,
Every face has that much more vigour,
And each body dances so much more fervently,
Not a cloud crosses our path,
Tans replacing scarves,
Carmine ousting the grey,

Like an eldritch entity,
Deep ultramarine and limitless in body,
Way above us,
I see its cyclopean eye,
Watching and slowly broiling,
It burns with zeal,
But means no harm,
This stratosphere spirit,
It only wishes to animate us anew,

Before the fall.

When they came,
Those sharks in uniform,
I climbed atop my household raft,
Fearing for my life,
They came bearing gifts,
Tokens of handcuffs and stingray barbs,

I see their blue skins and bluer lights,
Circling me,
Stalking me,
Smelling blood in the water,
The curtains are my shield,
With no oar I can only wield a house key,

They want me to give up,
To stop treading water,
They keep using big words like “surrender”,
Screaming “murderer” and “monster”,
But I see their barracuda teeth,
Truncheons and mace,

The front door caves in,
A flash,
The thrashing of water and 9mm rounds.

To be a poet is to walk among past giants,
To write is to scamper betwixt their footprints,
As they feast in their halls,
Subsisting on crumbs dropped from on high,
Vermin in their literary Valhalla,
A rat amidst their feet,

There is no beanstalk to their heights,
Shakespeare and Shelley,
Bronte and Poe,
Colossal wordsmiths and Einherjar bards,
They earned their places here,
I have not,

I came to climb to their zeniths,
Trying not to get stomped on,
Barely a flea in contrast,
To their elephantine labours of text,
My works are rock paintings,
Ink on seashells childishly spent,

In this land of giants,
I am but a neophyte,
I’ll likely never achieve the apex,
But why not keep climbing?

In conversation,
I find it rather easy to choke,
On words,
On phrases,
My oesophagus is awash in letters,
Chunks of language undigested,
Like fat in a drain,
Well and truly clogged,

I cough and splutter,
Unable to get the locutions out,
Talking in tongues,
Gurgling in gibberish,
Growing more blue with each failed gasp,
The paragraphs scratch my throat like nails,
I’m destined to be choked by the words,
And no friendly Heimlich will help.