Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

A city is not its landmarks,
They are merely brick and mortar mascara,
Traps for tourists,
A city is its soul,
The veins of the urban centres,
The cobblestone lifeblood of a city,
The alleyways and sights less seen,
The sights and spices and blood,
The sweat and tears and backstreets,
In these asphalt warrens,
You’ll see the real life of the city,
The real people,
The blood cells through these capillaries.

Ahh yes,
That dank motel has many stories,
Each room a storybook of flesh,
A rogues gallery of sorts,
In a cloak of cigarette smoke,

This room here,
Contains a beggarly prodigy of paint,
A Picasso in poverty,

That room there,
It contains a young couple in love,
Fleeing a pair of oppressive households,

That room at the end,
The lady there killed her decorated husband,
For striking her one too many times,

The road has all kinds of refuse,
Much finds its way here,
Travellers and outcasts of all shades,
Drawn like moths to its neon sign,
A haven on these backroads,

A den to sleep in,
A hole to fade in.

I keep walking,
Day by year by century,
Battered and bloodied,
Like a dreadnought shelled from shore,
Calloused toes escaping my socks,
Torn and slate-hued as they are,
My feet only shielded by cotton remnants,
My shoes wore away eons ago,
Burned away upon the Earths face,
As I keep walking,

Now the elements chew at my soles,
Bitten by pebbles and life both,
Pools of acid and discarded razors,
Ore fashioned of every cruel word,
Ripping my socks further,
This has been going on for so long,
I know I could get new socks,
Temporarily soothing the hurts,
It’s a novel concept,
Alas I must keep walking.

Life is rife with peril,
It’s a journey across lands unknown,
A yellow brick road,
Laden with trash and pennies,
No matter how far you walk,
There’ll always come a bridge,
Built upon miracles and curses,
Under which all manner of troll could hide,

It’s perilous yet unavoidable,
A turning point in some eyes,
You must cross the bridge,
Life demands it,
So keep living and walking,
Follow the road,
And cross another bridge,
And another.

You must be a cartographer in this life,
Despite what some say,
You have to find your own way,
The years offer no signposts,
Nor safe havens to rest,
You’ll concoct your own journey through decades,
The good and bad,
Plot a course to avoid the Bermuda triangles,
Those treacherous reefs of liars and hurt,
Serpentine sharks and heckling jackals,
The need for navigation never ceases,
The years want you to be adrift,
Will you be lost like Leichhardt?
Or will you be Amelia Earhart?
A failure or a legend?

I feel as if I have split from the convoy,
That expedition towards consequence,
And found myself in a desert,
Adrift and inconsequent,
Wandering dunes in delirium,
Desiccating further with each step,

Day and night,
I scan the horizon for the path ahead,
Tracing mirages with my shaking hand,
The heat painting illusions on to my eyes,
Distant skylines and Everests,
Tornadoes and tsunamis,

My throat blisters from the aridity,
I need to sate my thirst,
To be worth something,
If aqua is life,
And life is valuable,
Then I must drink,

But scarcity is the name of the game,
The mirages keep me irrelevant,
To sway me from a drop of value,
There could even be an oasis here,
But I remain lost and wanting,
Worthless amid the barrens.

We glide through heaven daily,
Battered like a hot air balloon,
Swirled through lifes winds,
Thrown to and fro,
As the worlds zephyrs are thrown against us,
Heartbreaks and triumphs evolutions,
Air pressure in all directions agitated,
The beat of life is an ebb and flow,
No clear route is existent,
An ascent after a swoop,
And back again,
There’ll always be another climb,
So keep flying.

With his six string Excalibur,
The bar tab nomad is here,
A Picasso with a nomadic spirit,
A jukebox in a duster,
He’s your cowboy clown,
Bandaged fingers and dizzy eyes,
With a voice like smooth Jack,
Playing for spare change and cheap beers,
Every dive is his louvre,
If there’s a crowd still upright,
He’ll keep playing through the night,
But he can never settle down,
The devil is at his heels,
So before you even wake,
He’ll be already on the next highway,
Always towards the next stage.

Today I realised,
The lane of memory is laden with broken glass,
Sown amongst rose petals and photo snaps,
I see it from astride my metal steed,
Daydreaming down the highway,

Traversing it can breed torment and pierced feet,
Slicing at your pupils and spirit,
Bittersweet images play out every few yards,
The past visualised like stained-glass,
Faces and places like prismatic daggers,

Some memories bite less of course,
Not all glass is jagged,
Some merely graze,
That memory lane can indeed be tender,
But is forgetting preferable?

Good day inmates!

How are you all doing? Not blown away I hope. The wind has been incredibly severe here in the last week. In fact, the fastest winds ever recorded in the UK were recorded last Friday I believe. Fascinating stuff! I’ve been so happy with the progress of the blog this week. I know it’s not about numbers or anything, but I’ve been really humbled about the…. viewership? Stats? I don’t know what the word would be actually. I’m feeling much more positive about the whole thing this week anyways.

Talking about positive, I’m positively going to ask if you’ve seen the clue for todays musical theme. If you haven’t, give yourself a little bop on the head and zoom over to the social media pages. I posted it a few hours ago. Goooo oooon, you know you want to follow me on Facebook. Haha!

So, the theme for todays Harlequins writing music is travelling! The feeling of leaving the usual and exploring the unknown. Whether it be visiting one of the other marvellous nations of our world, or maybe even simply exploring the nooks and crannies of our own country. I’ve not been able to visit another country for some years, but I have found some interesting places in other parts of the UK. From further north, to the border of Wales and even excursions to our very own capital. Music artists are obviously just as likely to travel like this (maybe more likely) and many of them write and create music about their experiences. From songs about particular countries, to the uplifting feeling of walking down a dirt road. Sounds rather exhilarating no? Want to see what musical travails I have for you today?

Join me as we delve into the musical minds of well-travelled artists the world over!

The Proclaimers – I’m on My Way

John Denver – Take Me Home, Country Roads

Phil Collins – On My Way

Simple Plan – Summer Paradise

Remady & Manu-L – Holidays

And there we have it! The Harlequins writing music has finally flown home! I don’t know about you, but I feel like booking a flight to somewhere now! Oh wait, that costs money. Nevermind! I hope that you are similarly inspired by this weeks choices my friends. Please check out all of these artists, they all deserve the attention I believe.

Speaking of attention, may I have yours? I have social media nonsense to share with you all! The asylum has a page over on Facebook, an account on Instagram and a page over on Twitter as well! Please consider following me over on those sites, it really helps me out. Links included of course. Also, if you really enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page! Thanks for everything!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!