That sign on the hill, That ivory chapel to fame, What those letters represent is a façade, A corpse flanked by stage lights, Shining and corrupt, Sprawling yet shallow,
It’s a predator, It has devoured countless souls, The city sells glamour and exotic highs, Whilst thirsting for youth and flesh, Its alleyways are chock-full of corpses in tuxedos, Skeletons of proteges and child stars,
It is beautiful, The most lethal places are, Those roads are coated in gold, But peel those pavement stars up, Slab by slab, And underneath lies cancer and putrescence,
Those cityscapes hide much, Casting couch teeth, Vampires in directors chairs, Narcotics around every block, The city of angels? An oxymoron to be sure.
I am nobody, I am everybody, I am me, But I am also not me, I shift each and every day, To me physique is simply a mood, Race and gender are just words, I can be anyone, I am true fluidity, The rain drops between bodies,
I jump from form to form, For necessity or on a whim, Constitution is just an art form, Skin hair and bone simply paints on my easel, One day I am a humble man, The next the fairest damsel, I could be the villain, Or maybe the comedic relief, I can be anyone, I can be everyone.
Do you remember thirteen years thus? A bargain was made, A pact you cannot break, With a loan shark you can’t dupe, An infernal contract, Your soul for your hearts desire, Seemingly an easy trade at the time,
The time has come to collect, Your final sunset has passed, The hounds come, Obsidian pelt and garnet-eyed, Slavering and tireless, From the flames they come howling, To tear from you a promised ember,
The hounds are here, A flood of ghastly Baskervilles, Do you hear them scraping at your door? The scent of brimstone is palpable, No amount of bargaining can lull them, They are the devils own mongrels, And they hunger for the flesh of a soul promised.
I appear an easy target, A humble scorpion, All gaunt limbs and modest in size, But watch your step friend, I am no prey,
I have a sturdy exoskeleton, A chitinous fortress with cracks, Sundering blows from previous predators, Cohorts with jaws of their own, Partners turned to cannibalism,
A scorpion suffers no harasser, This critter has claws, Twin pincers ready to return your spite, Verbal blow for blow, An arachnid feels no pity,
But perhaps you see yourself as the apex, So I warn you through mandibles, Persevere in your incursion, And you invite a final barb, Venom straight to the heart,
Around me lies a void of dead space, A cold vacuum, An orbit of haunted shipwrecks and scrap debris, Broken spacesuits and heartbroken asteroids, A desolate astral barrier, Silent and lonesome, It’s between me and the cosmos of society, Their planets are lightyears away, Muted and hazy,
I don’t mind it though, I shut off the oxygen valve myself, Flushing myself out.
Having a nice June so far? It’s definitely feeling like summer now. I have barely had a moment of non-sweating the last week. Tash has been trying to encourage me to start sitting in the garden and even writing out there. The last few days of poems were the product of this. I was really quite happy with how they turned out actually. I seemed to be able to think clearer out there. How’s that for being positive? I’m pretty certain I shall seek to continue writing outside for the foreseeable future at the rate things are going. Hehe!
So, if nobody had told you yet, it’s Wednesday today. That means that today is the day for the Harlequins writing music! Did anybody see my clue for todays musical theme? It was a pretty photo of some grass. Not all that fascinating but I think that it displays the theme. Any idea what it is? Well I’ll tell you! The musical theme for today is nature! Oh yes, that thing we all live amongst and on top of. With the natural world being all around it, it stands to reason that it would inspire all kinds of musicians since the very first. Songs about the beauty in nature, songs about the dangers, maybe even songs about figments of nature that relate to human progress. There’s always messages to sing out about pollution and similar issues. Music can be used as protest and raising awareness after all.
So, want to hear my choices for this week? I think I’ve rambled for long enough, don’t you? Ok, let’s see how we get on!
Join me as we delve into the musical minds of naturalist artists the world over!
How about those choices? There were some I chose this time that were out of my typical ‘comfort zone’ musically and yet I was still very happy to listen to them. Their adoration for the world we live in breathes wholly through their music and voices. It’s enough to bring a tear to the eyes no? Especially when you see the sorry state the natural world is in these days. Please check out these artists my friends, I think it’s more important than ever. Save the trees!
Well, I ought to put some social media stuff here despite the more sombre note I’ve left on. The asylum here has a Facebook page, an account on Instagram and last but not least a page on Twitter. As always, If you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-Fi page. Thanks for everything! Oh, but definitely donate to charities saving the planet first!
Oh yes, That cloth of rainbows, It is not my flag, But I love it all the same, As it flaps in tumultuous winds, A freedom all its own, It flies proudly at parades, Raves of jovial feeling,
And so it should, To love is to be human, So love how you wish, Gender be damned, It’s a kind of amiable authority, But all that holds this flag over our heads, Is all of our own hands, Because it is the right thing to do.
As this days sun grows coral, The sacrifice is brought up, To the apex of this temple, Our golden pyramid, This one shall suffice,
The sacred hymns are recited, Drawing the scrutiny of the gods, My obsidian blade is held in thirsty readiness, The time is upon us, Two small eyes grimace up,
‘Tetatzin…?’
The blade falls, The vessel is pierced, The pantheons wine is spilled, Painting the glimmer of this place, My people ring out in hysteria,
We become phrenetic in holy awe, Aloft a warm youthful heart is held, Hesitating to still beat, Huitzilopochtli drink deep, And be praised by this act.
We all feel emotion, This is no secret, But ofttimes we err from sharing them face-to-face, So we turn to cards, Bearers of feelings in lexical tack, Unrestricted craft heralds,
We launch them aloft, To travel like Hermes to our desired charges, To carry our hearts in spirit, In handwritten word, Hieroglyphs of joy, And they fly with no complaints for miles,
To think we entrust such emotion to such trifles, To wish family well in trying times, To congratulate them, To let them know they are in your thoughts, To disclose hidden fires to a partner, We pour our hearts into them like a lyrical potion,
Our lives are Broadway shows, A starring role for every soul, Glamour and pomp to be sure, But misery abound in equal measure, Every continuance drawn to a genre, Which demesne does your life fall?
Is it a Greek tragedy? An overbearing tirade of unfortunate episodes, Maybe your life is a thriller? A slithering story with fangs of menace and twists of scale, Perhaps a horror is more your style? A tale of mundane cruelty and human monsters,
Could your life be a comedy? Absurd scenarios and guffaws aplenty, Or is it a feel-good story? A silver spoon journey to a silver casket, Could your life even be a romance? A lifelong game of will they won’t they,
The possible genres we fall into are legion, As numerous as the twinkles in our eyes, Different experiences in both colour and tone, The only similarity betwixt these archetypes, You may already know it, They all end the same.
