Posts Tagged ‘Sadness’

Time to put the universe to rights,
I shed my fabric skin,
The shower opens up,
The senate has begun,

In this congress of glass,
The water pours,
I establish my assertion,
To the shampoos present,

To the bottle senators in the room,
To the shower gels and sponges,
I pontificate,
And argue astutely,

With a confidence,
Invisible at all other times,
And a shrewd reasoning,
That drains away as the aqua ceases,

All clean,
I’ve won the argument,
I’ve cracked the problem,
The water is their applause,

It fades down the drain.

Looking out to sea,
Reminds me of your face,
Each wave a memory,
Ashen is my face,
Since you left,

You returned to the fatherland,
I never heard your voice again,
Why did you vanish?
Do you miss me?
Do you even remember me?

You were a complicated soul,
At war with yourself,
But I adored you all the same,
You had a pretty form,
That screamed nonconformist,

Do you remember that night?
Among the gravestones,
When we first kissed,
You were never a lover,
But you were my true friend,

We were a pair,
Of eccentric clowns,
Dancing in the worlds misery,
Ballet in the sunless streets,
Nobody else could make me dance,

I won’t dance again.

In my minds eye,
I see myself,
In the coming years,
Down on my luck,
In the brumal months,
Cloaked in a ragged greatcoat,

Among the dreary remains,
Of a night in a haze,
A melancholy stupor,
Initiated by the barman,
But not of his design,
A tap of liquid misery,

Will they find me in the gutter?
Slouched with my whisky friends,
Bottles of woe,
Among the scents of ethanol,
And spoils of spilled amber,
Spirits on the stones,

And when it comes to the grim autopsy,
Will the cause of death be phrenitis?
Or a broken heart?

In these trying times,
We are as hounds,
Fear has us becoming dogs,
With a canine thirst,
And a hyena hunger,

Society has become a pound,
Social distance growling,
Crawling around,
With an absent master,
Scavenging from the agora,

We feast ceaselessly,
In our doghouses,
With our mates,
And our feeble pups,
Our pack at home,

The dog bowls run low,
We pant from the panic,
Only animals afterall,
Beholden to primal urges,
We are as hounds,

A thought howls to my mind,
I do wonder,
How long until we feast upon each other?

I see my target,
Surrounded by craters and husks of society,
Caked in mud and gory detritus,
He must have fought for hours,
Days even,
No matter,

A sniper feels no mercy,
I align my reticule,
Let’s take a look at this prey,
I’ve prowled his unit all week,
Drenched and weary,
Not much longer,

I wonder if he misses home,
His mother must miss him,
His father must be crestfallen,
Their son was conscripted,
But soon to be sent home,
In a bag of his own,

He’s a young man,
Surely a beau of his village,
Glint of a wedding ring,
She must be beautiful,
Wonder if they have children,
He’s not coming home little ones,

He glances fearfully about,
The lightning bolt before the trigger,
Time to earn my pay,
I breathe in,
And smirk,
For him the war is over.

I took a walk this morn,
Along a gloomy lane,
To ponder the world,
And my place in it,

The grey clouds,
They look so bleak,
Yet so free,
A blanket of sorrow,

The sky begins to weep,
Along with myself,
Like a somber choir,
Calling out into the fog audience,

They whisper to me as I drudge,
They tell me,
Even misery can be freedom,
Sadness is not made of chains,

Cry and still progress,
I return home a changed man,
The grey clouds,
They continue on to eternity.

A continuation of ‘Cerberus‘.

I was in hell,
I climbed out,
Through the barbed wire,
And viridian flames,
My charred body endures,
Even as strips of flesh yield,

That thrice-headed horror,
It hunted me here,
But it neglected the fact,
A prey cornered is vicious,
I dismembered it in glee,
I wear its teeth as trophies,

I don the cracked mask once more,
I am once more the apex,
I’m back,
They’ll suffer for their transgression,
Daring to end my imbrued crusade,
I’ll punish them all,

I hear the cattle call,
With their cell phones and banter,
Anathema to my senses,
My killer instinct,
It sends bolts down my spine,
Let’s punish the world,

Never was affluent in life,
So lets try unlife,
The world is my stage again,
My carnival of gore and chaos,
My charnel house,
My festival of blood,

My bloody legacy is renewed,
I’ll sit atop the corpses,
Of the whole world,
A holy throne,
Even the reaper shall bow to me,
Caked in the grisly glory,

Of my monument of gore.

I remember a tale,
Far to the east,
In the cold empire,
A plan was produced,
To kill a mystic,
A holy man,
A healer,
A strannik,
A problem,

After previous attempted failed,
By a peasant madwoman coerced,
A new scheme was required,
An invite to a house,
With a blade biding its time,
Cups and bottles of venom,
Three gunshots of hate,
A lover of a queen,
Buried in the snow.

Hello there inmates!

I hope you’re all having a fantabulous day! I know I am! This is a bit of a different kind of post today. It’s something of a self-promotion actually. Shameful self-promotion. I’ve been ruminating for days trying to work out how to word this one. I must have written and re-written this post two or three times by now. It’s infuriating!

You see, I just recently set up a Ko-fi page for the blog. It can be found here! For those of you who are not in the know, Ko-fi is a website that enables people to support their favoured struggling artist by donating small amounts of money. The price of a coffee in fact. Obviously this is just a starting point, people can donate as much or as little as they please. You may be able to see where this is leading…

I’ve created my own Ko-fi page not because I want people to pay me to keep writing or even because I feel I deserve it, but because I simply need some assistance. This is most definitely not a replacement for a job. It is simply a donation to help me write. I want to create more art for all of you inmates out there. I want to do some more pictures with costumes or more facepaint, and learn some basic photoshop wizardry. Maybe some kind of commissions? Those are just a handful of examples. The ideas are endless really.

So simply put, my point is, if anyone has enjoyed my work here at the asylum over the last few years, it’d mean the world if you could donate to help me out. All for the price of a coffee! If you don’t want to or cannot for whatever reason, that’s absolutely fine. I’m simply happy that people seem to read my work. There is absolutely no pressure at all. I’ve created a page specially for this on the blog here. So there we go, simple shilling from your Oldschool Harlequin. What am I like eh?

So, until next time, have a very crazy day!

Most people have somebody,
Who got away,
But you,
You didn’t get away,
You simply went away,

When you went away,
Both in body and heart,
You were never mine,
Not to lose,
Not to love,
Not to grow with,

But it hurts all the same,
Cuts like a saw,
Causing my wrists to bleed,
And tempting me with the bottle,
I’ll tell you true,
It nearly killed me,

I’m getting better,
I’ll make it,
I’ll survive,
But I won’t be truly living,
Because you went away.