I waltzed upon a woodland path, To release some serotonin, To be one with the natural backdrop, Between the crowds of bark giants, I chanced upon a wonderful sight,
I had been granted an audience, A once in a lifetime opportunity, To meet the duke of this wood, A regal beast of wild aristocracy, A titanic stag of primeval physique,
Towering over even the treetops, His antlers scratched sermons into the clouds, Treatises on woodland matters, He stood upon ivory legs commanding respect, Purely demanding reverence from all,
He stared into my urban soul, As if in pity, I could only bow, A newfound awe crosses my mind, A lord of nature has blessed me,
We are not dire wolves, We do not run in packs, We’re not predators, We are wildebeest, We run in herds, We are fodder, Fearful of the brush all around, Unsafe in our carnivorous habitat,
And like wood lice, We retreat to our homely crevices, Unsafe in our forms of chitin, At the whiff of any danger, Scurrying away from the intrusive light, Decrying the suns ambush, To this world we are prey, We are wildebeest and wood lice.
As fools we spite the land, Cutting into her flesh with drill and scalpel, Rubbing salt in the wounds, A different kind of salted earth, Her very flesh stolen as ore, Her own blood wielded as torture, A stinging iron maiden, We rub it in,
Taking gifts with clawed hands, Plundering and pillaging, Diamonds and salt and gold, We laugh all the way to the bank, But we’ll be the fools, Our own doomsayers, As salted earth, Becomes scorched earth.
The Earth strives to heal, From the corruption of warfare, Still wounded decades later, Still polluted by the arsenic of empires,
From the minds of old men, Did these scars across the land come, Painted by bone shards and blood of the young, Spread by the quills of artillery and lead,
Many souls died here, Laid to rest in craters, Mother Nature lies beside them in solidarity, Mourning for the industrial slaughter,
And the planet still weeps, Those tears of acid rain, She hates those old men, And endeavours to right their wrongs.
The sun is a tyrant, Thermometers were its heralds, Yet we still opened our windows, Below these beams of radiation do I reside, And my willpower is stripped from me, Melted down to perspiration, Burned to cinders, Scorched beyond recognition,
I am a wickerman, Burned to X’s and O’s, Sandcastles have become my skin, Sweat has become my lifeblood, My breath has become a menagerie of spices, Made pink by the skys hatred, I am scorched, As are we all.
The human world is a machine, Forcibly implanted into the flesh of the Earth, Its blades feeding deep into ore and fauna both, All gears and buzz saws, Propellants and crude oil, Skyscrapers and drills, Crewed by billions of little viruses, Arms-dealers and fuel barons all, Giving this machine its relentless drive,
This human device is self-propagating, Procreation is refuelling the machine, Birth to coffin and back again, Meat and fat and ribs, Keeping that grinder chock-full, Little darlings as high calibre rounds, Piercing the planets chest cavity, Heat death on the way, An apocalypse by inches.
She had always dreamed of glades, Beds of grass and hydrangea companions, Dreamed of owl storytellers, And choirs of rodent and hare, So she called to the druids, Those shepherds of the trees, Go between those boughs they told her, That shaded gateway to the forest,
That path of dirt snaking betwixt oaks and ash trees, Those arbours embraced her, Taking her amongst them like ivy, They whispered in breezy leaves, Bestowing upon her a cape of nature, And a crown of flowers, They loved her, And she them,
Jointly they would watch the world pass, The passage of the planets entropy, And decay together at the end.
On this night of nights, The breeze is your only companion, And it doesn’t mean well, The aether hereabouts has a will of its own, You feel a presence I’m sure, A whisper on the wind, Seething at the company of living souls, You’re an unwelcome draught, An intrusion into the night,
It rides about on the air cackling, It’s a ghost, A revenant, A wraith, It regards you with gelid eyes, It moves in a gusty rave of enmity, A hatred demonstrated on the raised pressure, Its claws are the chills upon your shoulder, And this spectre seeks to blow you away,
The Earth is a water painting, Created by some invisible Picasso, Still damp from the godly brushstrokes, The skies morph before your eyes, Ever changing, As if moved by the brushes’ impetus,
Blended swathes of viridian making up the fields, A view into the many masks of the land, The arid lands and barrens shine in saffron ardour, Each river a stroke of woad, You can see the current in its very pigment, A sublime portraiture,
It’s a look at our mother in artistic disclosure, Showing her countless faces, Both serene and destructive, The paintings surface feels both molten and siberian, Professing the worlds extremes in colour, After all isn’t a landscape just a portrait of the world?
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!
