Posts Tagged ‘social justice’

Mankind has an addiction,
Technological advancement,
Fire to bronze to wheel,
Iron to steel to silicon,
A necessity turned to reliance,
Then morphed again to obsession,
Progress colliding with social media craving,
Lines of code cut by crafters hand,

We squat in plasterboard boxes,
Civilised little addicts,
Smoking carbon monoxide from factories,
Painting our eyes a glossy television white,
In turn plugging our lives into a synthetic spiders web,
USBs straight into our veins,
An electrical current,
Narcotics of information and memes,

Veins of black gold,
Wi-Fi heartbeat,
The world has become a machine,
With man feeding off of it,
Plugged into its plastic globe,
With carrier bag oceans and global warming skies,
A seeming paradise to most,
Not our problem others say,

But the thing about USB cables,
Sometimes they break.

Under stormy skies,
My mind is an art gallery,
A museum of ideations,
An asylum of nightmares,
Portraits and landscapes aplenty,
Disparate images of chaotic vivacity,

The price of entry a forlorn spirit,
The exhibits are of heart-breaking intentions,
Fantasies scrawled in ink and charcoal,
Grisly outcomes and self-chastisement,
Brushstrokes wishing for things sour,
Held in frames specked in self-harm ruby,

It is a dark place,
A hell I keep under wraps,
A location best left locked,
But at times it trills out,
Calling to that theatre of suicides,
And impelling me to stay within its halls.

Groups of people are ships,
Ironclad vessels built upon hulls of teamwork,
Did you know this?
Families and friendships and workforces,
They are crewmates on the same deck,
Sailing the same course,
To the same destination or goal,
Led by a captain of respect,
A person of veneration,
The rigging to the crews sails,

But humans are a fickle bunch,
Some souls have mutiny in their hearts,
They wish to hold the top spot,
So they drill holes in the hull,
Cut free the lifeboats,
And sabotage the rudder,
A rat-king prowling amongst the crew,
Pity this fool,
Who would sink the entire vessel,
Purely because they can’t be the captain.

Some people never leave drama lessons,
Their dramatic exultations are not limited to class,
Social life is also a play,
A tall tale to which they are dramatis personae,
An endless supply of attention,
Teenage mindsets abound,

A rumour here,
A silver tongue there,
Crocodile tears over yonder,
Perhaps lips touching,
And the stage is set,
For this manufactured performance,

You see these people wish to be eyesores,
The centre of everyone’s gaze,
To be fawned over by all who will,
Lauded onwards by fellow prom kings and queens,
Plastic performers,
Confirmed in their own indignity,

It is like a drug to the vein,
These consistent victims play their starring role,
Uncaring for those they step on,
As long as the audience attends,
Any audience,
The curtains never draw close.

Hello there inmates!

I hope you’re all having a wonderful week. Mine has felt extremely productive, which is a very freeing feeling I must say! I’ve gotten the impression that my works this week have been a tad more “hard-hitting” than average. The epitome for me was “Domestic Bliss” which, as may be clear, was derived from real life experience and anguish. I was content with how it came out though and I hope you all enjoyed it.

So, it’s time for the Harlequins writing music! Any of you who happen to follow my social media may have already guessed the theme for todays post from my clue. I hope it wasn’t too obscure. So, the theme of todays music picks is rebellion. What is rebellion? The spirit of freedom and the will to ask questions, even against authority. Criticising your own government is one area that most think of when you hear the term rebel. The determination to be yourself regardless of those cupped whispers. It can be misconstrued as childishness at times I supppose, but that tends to be from people who seek to stand on you. This rebellious spirit has sparked many artists over the years, from punks to anarchists, from anti-establishment types to followers of particular politicos. These can span genres of all kinds and there are no shortages of artists to pick from.

So, let’s see what I have come up with. Do you agree with my ‘lower than layman’ take on rebellion? Or do you think I’m being overly vague? I think I’m still getting the hang of this. So let’s see which five artists we have today eh?

Join me as we delve into the musical minds of rebellious artists the world over!

Rise Against – Hero Of War
https://www.riseagainst.com/

Rage Against The Machine – Killing In The Name
http://www.ratm.com/

The Cranberries- Zombie
https://www.cranberries.com/

Eric Clapton – Stand & Deliver
https://www.ericclapton.com/

System Of The Down – B.Y.O.B.
https://systemofadown.com/splash/

And there we have it for todays edition!

So, how about those choices eh? I’m hoping they displayed some rebellious spirit for you all to enjoy. There were a few others I toyed with choosing, but maybe they’ll appear some other time. I hope you’ve enjoyed my choices and that you check any of these artists if you’re unfamiliar,they all deserve it!

So, lets have some social media spiel! If you want to see clues for my poems and weiting music themes ahead of time, consider liking/following me over there! I have an account on Facebook, an account over on Instagram and last but not least a page on Twitter. Also, if you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me overĀ at the Ko-fi page! Thanks for everything!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!

I remember you vividly,
Sitting next to me,
Or were you standing over me?
Holding me perhaps too tight,
A living and breathing possession,
I was your toy soldier,

You showed your feelings openly,
Love letters in dark patches of skin,
Compliments tempered with caveats,
Invisible chains while away,
I believed it was stress or foul mood,
But you were Hyde without Jekyll,

Did we have a good life?
In our love nest of isolation,
An idyllic little boxing ring,
No friends allowed,
Don’t let the spies in,
They can’t see the real us,

It wasn’t all bad,
As you snored,
I breathed a sigh of relief,
When you left for the mines,
I didn’t flee,
Why didn’t I leave?

You said you loved me,
But your closed fists said otherwise,
You claimed to support me,
Then why could I only do wrong?
You didn’t want to hurt me,
Then why do I sustain scars years later?

I walked up to the cash machine,
That sterile plastic confessional,
A personal prayer mat,
And I gawped into the screen,
As it became something of a reflection,
A seeing stone,

To this world we despise,
And how it functions under our watch,
I see folks smoking cigars of rolled up dollar bills,
Piercing veins with needles fresh from the contractual dotted line,
Cutting lines with credit cards,
That green currency has become a foul narcotic,

We all need it,
That nickel and brass addiction,
People bleed and die over this financial creed,
Throats slashed on Wall Street,
But money does not purchase happiness,
The only product it truly buys is discordance.

All children are born killers,
Little Bonnies and Clydes,
Astray infants running with scissors,
Accomplices to a most brutal slaying,
But not little rippers do I describe,
But humans like you and I,

They are not guilty of the instinctual murder they commit,
They were born into this jagged cycle of consumption,
They are not monsters,
But fellow killers of the world,
Maggots in a fetid wound of the earth,
Participating in its slow demise,

It’s not their fault,
They’re innocent,
It’s just the homo sapiens blueprint,
The way of progress,
To consume,
To kill.

Upon this urban spot of the map,
We are drones,
Tracksuit wearing termites,
Pervading this nest of terraces,
This sad town,
Brick and mortar mazes,
And empty shuttered merchants,

Image of the great depression,
This town is a shipwreck among fog,
Cloaked in steely smog,
Intoxicating in its misery,
Sent under by grapeshot of recession,
Plagued by ghosts with shopping bags,
Cawing and wailing at price tags,

The sky reflects the hopeless hamlet,
There is nowhere to go,
We live here,
We are bound here,
As cardinal as the concrete of the car parks,
And as cold.

These fanatic pitchforks I spy,
With waving flags they jeer,
With the blaming sabre,
And toxic forked tongues,
The wrong people broken under heel,
Be they the wrong colour or creed,

You dinosaurs believe your own haughty myth,
That your borders confine some element of superiority,
To simply resent the alien,
To hate the outside,
To hide behind a tattered mask of patriotism,
You have learned nothing from history,

You live in nations built alongside immigrants sweat,
You ignore your own history for spites sake,
Spewing lies forced into your veins by dangerous men,
Your self-serving devotion is weakness,
You don’t show strength,
You show fear.