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.
What is dark poetry? It’s art from the other side of life, The undercroft, It is the pens true misgivings with the world, Poetry without the veneer of hope, Without naivete,
It’s verse unconcerned with the daisies, Or the wonders global, It’s poetry with the mask off, Of black eyes and cracked teeth, Of track marks and hangovers, Grief and crime and the reapers art,
Don’t misconstrue my words though, Flowery prose has its place, Ink of faith and family, Denial helps with the pain after all, But all ideals require an obverse, And that’s poetry from the dark.
There is a golden road afore you, Afore us all, It’s a track to virtue, Gilt stone after gilt stone, A journey to be a good soul, It is no easy road, Feeling like a savage incline even on the flat,
It takes temperance to reach the zenith, A conscience, There will be temptations off the road, Jackals built of greed, Landmines of notoriety in the dirt, Enticing sculptures of carnal flesh, Vice beside the aurum,
Don’t get turned around, Keep plugging away, Foot after foot, Year after year, Your sweat shall keep you true, Few perceive the golden road, Fewer still remain good.
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!
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!
I was spawned without logic, Without reason, A vacuum behind the eyes, Only a glitzy nebula in the gap, My mind must be locked up elsewhere, Incarcerated in absentia,
Reason has formed a bogeyman, Trying to drag me away, To mundanity, But I won’t go, I’m fleeing sanity, Cloaked in oddity,
I live as a madman, Bereft of marbles, Skipping gleefully along the path, Sidestepping what you call common sense, Seeing carousels and masquerades everywhere, Persisting on this demented track.
The sun is fervent, And the fields of green surround us, Nature in all its splendour, And its authority, A patchwork of reeds and moss, Tarmac snaking betwixt, Hay fever winds and manure vistas, A million little legs within the grass confines, Fur and feather and carapace, The fields of green are all around, Pulsing, Encroaching.
As I sit here, Reclined in my own squalor, The good townsfolk pass by, They call me an abomination, A troll under the bridge, An insult to decorum,
They call me mutant, It is true I’m misbegotten, Birth was not kind to me, Inflicting this contorted form upon me, Certainly no gift, This repugnant chimera of a body,
I linger only in the dark places, Mother nature, I know that she loves me not, The flower petals said so, This story has no happy ending, I was never meant to be.
Every book is a wellspring, Dripping with the exertions of an artist, An acolyte of the quill, Each and every tome, It is a font, A primordial soup upon parchment, Birthing life on every page, Bursting forth galaxies in mental geysers,
It draws stories in your minds eye, Worlds that never were, Fantasy and science fiction, Horror and romance, It is succour to a soul in this grey land, A taste of aqua for a dying man, An escape, Until the book covers meet.
I’m somewhat mercurial, A revenant of flesh, I drift about as if on a breeze, Missed calls and messages on read, I’m a periphery person, Never in true focus, Ever on the outside, I’ll be a stranger to a friend one moment, And a friend to a stranger the next,
My whims deviate on a dime, I’m not duplicitous, Not double-dealing, No ill will do I intend, My mood and soul are just pulled all over, Dragged as if by shifting tides, To each cardinal direction, Wishing for solitude in one breath, And longing for companionship the next.
WorldofHarley 