Posts Tagged ‘Satire’

Life is all documentation,
Each movement a form to fill,
A D1 or a CN22 or otherwise,
Every action requiring permission,
Of some faceless bureaucratic ghoul,
Simplicity was too inefficient,
Our bindings were a touch too loose,
So we were bestowed this obstacle course,

I can see my objective clearly,
But an olympic run away,
Strewn with red razor wire,
Burning hoops and dotted lines,
For each footfall a box to tick,
But not that one,
Wrong form after all,
Time to stumble.

Hello there inmates!

I hope that you have all been keeping safe and enjoying each day to the fullest. Another week has passed and its been quite an interesting week has it not? The US elected a new president (despite clamours of fraud), the UK has descended into a second lesser lockdown for some reason and my bike had its MOT and full service. It’s been a full one here at the asylum. My posting times have been all over the place I know, but I’m keeping my usual rate up I think. Apologies regardless.

Now on this day, it’s time for the next spurt of the Harlequins writing music! I’ve elected to create one of my single band editions once again. Showcasing a single band that I particularly enjoy and draw inspiration from. Can you guess who it is this time?

Recognise them? It’s alright if you don’t. This is Ghost. One of my favourite ever bands, despite them being a more recent discovery for my part (2-3 yeara ago). They are a metal band from Sweden that formed in 2006. They are known for their eccentric performance style and theatricality. As you can see in that photo, they focus quite a lot on their costumes. They resemble a twisted version of a catholic church group. This is deliberate. Most of their music sounds like a satanic ritual performed through the lense of Black Sabbath or Blue Oyster Cult. They satirise religion quite intentionally, highlighting the absurdity of some of its elements. I’d say some could even find this satire offensive or infantile.

I’m hardly experienced enough in musicality or instrumentation to be able to judge how the music stands up to the greats. But I find it amazing! The vocals are superb as ever. Its easy to head bang to, surprisingly easy to sing along to and also initiate the traditional air guitar move! Yet the lyrics are quite deep or nuanced when looked into. So, enough babbling from this madman, would you like to listen to some? I’ll share my six favourites as I usually do. Let’s get on to it!

So, join me as we delve into the satanic musical minds of Ghost!

Ghost – Ritual

Ghost – Witch Image

Ghost – He Is

Ghost – Year Zero

Ghost – Rats

Ghost – Cirice

So there we have it for our display of the band Ghost!

I hope that you give this band a try. They’re quite unique in my eyes and the singingis really quite grand. I’ll include the link to their website here so you can look into them further. Please do my friends!

So, here’s my usual social media bit! The asylum has a Facebook page, an Instagram account and a twitter accounta twitter account. If you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-fi page. Thanks for everything!

So as always, until next week have a very crazy week inmates!

So our council of folly,
The hollow authority of our isle,
Open their mouths wide again for our daily rice,
Drenched in the sweat of labourers and nurses,
Taken as if it is their sacred right,
Our gratitude for their incompetence,

This old island is sick,
A blue scourge holds dominion,
Riddled with deaf worm-like things in suits,
With brown envelopes enveloped into their forms,
Finances put to foolish and wanton projects,
Folks held to ransom by foul ferrymen,

We weep at the tax office and county hall,
But those councilmen run out the back door cackling,
If the white cliffs begin to crumble,
And the foundations of our island splinter,
Will they still accept our sweat as thanks?

I’ve had enough,
Bile rises in my gullet,
Sick of the false prayers,
Golden cathedrals looming over the serfs,
A mistaken license to look down on others,
All began by him,

Weary of a so-called god,
Held aloft by old gothic spires,
Who is either evil behind a facade,
Offhandedly unwilling,
Or incapable of saving his so-called children,
So wrathful my hands grip his ivory throat,

Lightning licks at my arms,
But I persevere,
No more sermons,
Angelic flames scald my hands,
But they hold fast,
No more decrees,

My hands do not let go,
Until the divine lights leave his eyes,
And his religious larynx is crushed,
The angels and cherubs shriek in lamentation,
And fade into nothingness,
People can hear humanity once again,

We are our own gods now.

The scales of the judiciary are straining,
Sob stories and crocodile tears can tip them,
Lenient justice.

A nameless man kills many innocents,
But he has a wife and children,
Lenient justice.

An addict slits a barflys throat,
But she has a diseased mind,
Lenient justice.

A young bandit beats and robs an old crone,
But he has no home,
Lenient justice.

A cackling clown takes children away in his van,
But he is from a far away place,
Lenient justice.

A husband beats his wife to the edge of dying,
But he has friends in high places,
Lenient justice.

Lenient justice is the order of the day,
Criminals drink to their crimes,
While victims lament in their anguish,
The scales have tipped.

Justice

Sing thy songs of joy,
Even as poverty rears its ugly head,
Sing thy canticles of generosity,
Even as the stricken grieve for their dead,
Sing thy hymns of justice,
Even as monsters bathe in red.

Turn a blind eye,
And sing thy songs of praise,
Ignore the cries,
And sing thy songs of praise,
Turn your nose up,
And sing thy songs of praise,
Distrust thy neighbor,
And sing thy songs of lies.

Join your choir,
Bigots and zealots,
Hypocrites and liars,
Faithful and pure sheep,
Sing thy songs of praise,
And follow your good shepherd,
Even if he too may be lost.

SOP

There is a criminal in the city,
A dreaded master thief,
Not afraid to hunt in the daylight,
Clad in black,
And with a scarlet cloth around his neck,
He creeps in brand new brogues.

Hunting house to house,
Man or woman,
Rich or poor,
Young or venerable,
Homeless or sheltered,
He cares not,
For he views all wealth as his own.

Payslips,
Bank accounts,
Wallets,
Hidden stashes,
They all belong to him,
For he is the master thief,
He owns the bank.

Masterthief