Top Hat

I am not a glamourous man,
Not a Prince Charming,
More of a Grendel or Hyde,
Something akin to a blobfish in a shirt,
A weirdo,
An eccentric enemy of the state,

But when I place that crown upon my head,
That mad hatter headpiece,
Victorian fashion supreme,
I don’t care anymore,
I know that I’m finally me,
I’ll be able to grin,

With it comes the face paint,
A clown taking shape under its rim,
Madness coalescing with joy,
With this ensemble I can recover from normality,
But I fear it’d all be for naught,
If not for my top hat.

Corrective Surgery

I am a broken jaw,
A smashed nose,
I am a fetid wound,
An injury of a being,
I require correction,
Surgery of the self,
Something has gone wrong,
An unknown contagion has rendered me inhuman,

Put me under,
Gas to kill the monster,
These doctors in their gory aprons,
They will fix my inhumanity,
Scalpels to the various pieces of my soul,
Incisions and psychiatry,
When next my eyes reflect light,
Will I awaken as a man?

Syndicate Of Silly

We’re a secret organisation,
We tell everybody,
This is a wacky institution,
The syndicate of silly,
And we’re always open,
So open the door and climb in the window,
Wipe your hat,
And hang up those moccasins,
There’s a brew boiling in the bath,
But to business my friend,
We’re all in the basement upstairs,

So best go up the down staircase,
Don’t trip,
These stairs bite you know,
We’ve been debating,
And arguing,
And debating about arguing,
We’re scholars of senselessness,
Humans to a man,
It’s all a bit silly,
That’s undeniable,
But that’s life in a nutshell.

Asylum Jaunt

A crossroads in my life,
I remember it well,

Mundanity one way,
A tiresome future,
A pointless existence,
Eccentricity over yonder,
The way of the top hat,
The path of the face-paint,

I chose the only path I could,

Now I jaunt along it,
A cane in one gloved hand,
And a pen in the other,
A jester marotte in my pocket,
My top hat standing tall,
A capricious design upon my face,

Where my grin goes,
Kaleidoscopic and macabre images follow me,
There can be no end to the madness,
This procession of the asylum continues.

Book of Nightmares

As I stare blankly at the page,
Me and my mind make a pact,
A pact with this book of nightmares,
This monster I put my pen to,
A sanctum for every horror that crosses my minds eye,
Or perhaps an asylum?

This is my unholy gift to you,
A window into my mind,
Full of horrors and abominations as it is,
I must continue to write regardless,
I must keep creating these literary monsters,
The book demands it.

I begin to write,
And the nightmares come out to play,
Letters and words creep from recesses,
Punctuation slivers hither-and-thither,
Sentences of madness begin to form,
I’ve released a monster.

Or am I creating it?

The Hymn of the Inmates

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Brothers and Sisters,
Good priests and bad priests of all orders,
Allies,
Rivals,
Lovers,
I beseech you,
Hear my words!

Lords and Duchess’,
Madmen and Madwomen of all conditions,
Scum,
Thieves,
Murderers,
Churls and Misfits,
Hear me now!

The world is an asylum,
Our asylum,
We are the inmates,
We are the individuals,
We are the freaks,
We are the aberrations,
We are the monsters,
We are the inmates.

Join me in a celebration,
Rejoice in your own individuality,
Embrace your eccentricity,
Love your peculiarity,
Dance in the rain,
Paint with your fingers,
Laugh madly in public,
Do as you please.

We are the inmates,
Singular and deranged,
Odd and frivolous,
We are ourselves,
We are the twisted family,
Embrace the asylum,
And join us.

A New Idea

Greetings inmates.

I’ve got a short one this time. I promise it will actually be short this time. You see, i had an interesting idea the other day. I explained it to Lee and she seemed to think it was a pretty good idea, despite my inability at the time to explain it very well. My mind was quite literally all over the place. I must have been rambling like a lunatic again! I’ll try to explain it a bit better here today. You see, it’s an idea for a new segment for the blog. I believe segment is the right term for it anyway. A bit like my writing music segment, for example.

As anybody who has read my blog knows, WorldofHarley is an asylum for creative derangement and originative absurdity. I picture it as a literal insane asylum that holds my poems and stories, with the inmates milling about here and there. I’m not entirely clear where this thought came from originally, but it is how i view my blog for what ever reason. Anyway, my segment idea was going to be called something along the lines of “Asylum Escapees”. Each ‘chapter’, if you will, of this segment would surround a different music artist, writer or actor who is known for their eccentricity or unusual characters. For example, Marilyn Manson, Till Lindemann or HP Lovecraft. I’d basically write about how each of these people were a fictional asylum escapee and how they’ve escaped. I’d also use the same opportunity to write about what i love about them and their work, from the perspective of a fictional doctor.

I just wanted to try a different kind of writing while still keeping to my “style”, if it can be called as such. Variety is the spice of life after all. So, i implore anybody who reads to tell me if they like this idea and perhaps make some suggestions? Any and all thoughts are appreciated, as always!

Have a very crazy day inmates! Oh, and happy St. Patrick’s day!