Posts Tagged ‘humanity’

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.

I can’t keep that beeping out of my head,
That incessant crying,
The trilling of the heartbeat monitor,
Forced on when my heart was trod on,
Decibels striking my thoughts with scourges,
A result of things gone wrong,

That flatline,
Blades across eardrums,
But the bleeding has ceased,
Flesh is replaced with stone,
A warm soul is now calcified,
Heartache has given rise to blizzards,

I shed my person suit,
This is the demise of that former quintessence,
This war has made me cold,
Now it’s every man for himself,
Now let me embrace some chaos,
Now I embrace that beep.

Hello there inmates!

How are you doing this week? I know I ask that into space each week, but I am genuinely curious how any readers are doing. I’ve been a little on the low side myself this past week. I’m dealing with it, but It has made me realise how isolated I am at times. I’ve been finding myself not getting out of bed and being productive most days unfortunately. My brother in particular has been there for me a lot though. I’m not exactly sure why I’m being so whiney and candid about this but yes. I’m extremely lucky and blessed to have the family and friends that I do. They’re the best and I shan’t forget that!

Anyways, on to more compelling subjects eh? Music! Oh yes! Everyone loves music! It’s part 104 (bloody hell!) of the Harlequins writing music. Todays musical theme is one I threatened to come back to a few weeks ago. Did anybody get the clue earlier on today? I can’t imagine it was a very straining experience. Today’s musical theme is, once again, Europe!

Yep, I did cover this a few weeks ago but I said at the time that I couldn’t possibly cover the musical range and variety of the continent in five songs. I only showed off five nations of the 44 (I think) present on the continent. Only five artists doesn’t cover the many distinctive nations over here. I’m not going to cover the UK in these by the way. Purely because I feel I can easily create a separate list for British artists as a theme. So anyways, the home of the European Union and of innumerable distinct culture groups. As I would have mentioned last time, this continent has a long and rich history. Borders have shifted, names were changed and cultures have clashed. It’s one of the several melting pots of the world, so of course music has morphed in a multitude of directions. I think I’m likely to just keep rehashing that same point if I keep on so let’s see which artists (and nations) I’ve got for you this time!

So, join me again as we delve into the minds of Eurocentric artists the continent over!

The Dubliners – Whiskey In The Jar
https://www.facebook.com/thedublinersofficial

Skaldowie – Z Kopyta Kulig Rwie
https://www.facebook.com/Skaldowie-legenda-polskiego-rocka-181756031842054/

Fuel Fandango – Toda La Vido
https://www.fuelfandango.com/en/

Within Temptation – Angels
https://www.within-temptation.com/

Avicii – Wake Me Up
http://avicii.com/

And there we have it once again! Some pretty distinct artists there eh? There was even one (I’m not saying which) that I had actually forgotten was from a European country. Silly me! I hope you check out all of these artists all the same, they all deserve the love. Let me see those guesses as to which nations these wonderful artists hail from.

So, here’s some social media spiel. The asylum has a page over on ever-reliable Facebook, an account on Instagram and a page over on Twitter. Follow and subscribe to me over on those too eh? Also, if you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page. Cheers for everything!

Until next time, have a very crazy day inmates!

To a friend with no name,
I am no scholar of the heart,
But I see you,
You’re not alone my friend,
There’s a whole gaudy parade behind you,
Humans of every walk,
Humans of every ilk,
We are behind you,
You are not alien my friend,

There’s a parade of colour behind you,
Violets and reds and blues,
A veritable rainbow of people,
We are behind you,
And we shall jive and dance beside you,
Embrace and hold hands with you,
Hold the line with you,
You are not inequity,
There is no queer,

There is only humanity.

Many have come before us,
Men and women and tales aplenty,
Losses and victories and expirations,
Voices fading as every moment passes,
Though we can no longer see them,
They exist within us,
Codices and tomes in our veins,
We are living archives,
With histories branded into our spirits,
As well as templates for the future,
And that is the key,
To be templates worth recreating,
Ancestors worth remembering.

I find myself shuffling through life,
Forced to play this card game again,
I’m exhausted,
I’m tapped out,
This game of life is using rules I don’t recognise,
Hands growing aches aplenty,
Card upon card ripped from my deck,
And I struggle to draw the vigour,

Life has all the cards,
Counting down in blacks and reds,
No kings and queens to be found,
Yet I still go digging for diamonds,
Beaten down by wicked clubs,
Only spades waiting for me at the end,
Hearts in my pupils as the lights fade,
No ace up these sleeves.

The mists of the village welcomed a new visitor,
A monk of the road,
Tsugaru shamisen in hand,
Ragged in his very being,
Skeletal and mute,
A man whose eyes had never seen,

He played for rice and water,
His instrument his only possession,
Aside from the soiled cloth on his back,
The shamisen continues its mournful twangs,
Each pluck unleashing a tale of spirits,
Mystifying the villagers in its sad tones,

The old monk persisted,
With his music magic seemed real again,
Not a single eye remained dry,
Even the skies above acknowledged his rueful tune,
Falling in dismal sheets,
The village walked beside spirits once more,

And the shamisen continued its mournful twangs.

I’m a rotten clown,
All maggots and red noses,
I’m no good at making them laugh,
At least not in sincerity,

I’m a pitiable jester,
All rags and body odour,
Dressed up and ready to dance,
But the stands remain empty,

They tell me I need fibre in my diet,
It’s good for the gut they say,
But why care about their wellbeing,
When I’m led to hate my own guts?

Self hate is an artform,
And I’m something of a critic.

No my friend,
That is not what rock bottom is,
My soul dissents,
Rock bottom is not crying and screaming,
Not tearing down the walls,

Rock bottom is laying prone at night,
Thinking instead of sleeping,
A prison cell only we can see,

Rock bottom is staring stony-faced at work,
Into the face of a furious Karen,
And not hearing a single squawk,

Rock bottom is sitting in your underwear at 2am,
Stuffing your face full of treacle tart,
And not enjoying any of it,

Rock bottom is not aesthetically pleasing,
Not a work of art,
It is not convenient,
It is suffering,
It is purgatory.