Posts Tagged ‘WorldofHarley’

Hello there inmates!

Hope your Friday the 13th has been suitably mad. I hope you haven’t been agitating any poor innocent masked men. Haha!

It’s not really a secret that I’m a geek. I always have been and I always will be. I like watching superhero movies. I adore video games of many and varied genres. My collection of games is a bit absurd actually. I like quite a few anime though I feel slightly sheltered on that front. I occasionally buy figures and posters just because I can. I endlessly imagine characters from certain animes clashing and I constantly envision conversations between video game characters. Iron Man, Cloud Strife, Sonic, Zidane Tribal and Hellboy, these are my chums! Among others, of course. Nerdiness runs in these veins, I promise you. I actually intend to make a blog post about the random trinkets and loot that I currently own. I’ll get on that eventually.

This particular post, however, is about a specific geeky item. Sort of. You see, I recently subscribed to a website that sends crates of geeky goodies once a month. Along the same lines as Loot Crate. This website is called Super Loot (link enclosed for anyone who is interested). They’re a UK-based company that has a few different options for crates. From a general “mystery box” to a comic box. I opted for the mystery geek box, just because it intrigued me really. My box arrived this week and I fancied the idea of sharing the few things that I got in it. Partly showing off my new stuff, partly spreading the word about these guys I suppose.

So, here goes…

First off, we have a humble Daredevil Pen.

Followed by an Incredible Hulk Plush.

Then a Vision bobblehead!

Penultimately, a Black Panther Pop! figure.

And last but not least, a Westworld t-shirt.

So, there you have it! Some pretty neat stuff eh? Worked out cheaper than if I had bought them individually too! It pays to be frugal, does it not? Thanks very much to the guys over at Super Loot for the awesome stuff. I hope that some of you fellow inmates go and have a look at their site. I think they’re doing a good job. Can’t wait until next month now, it can’t come soon enough! Thank you if you’ve managed to get through this post of sheer self-indulgence, but it helps to break up the monotony, no?

Hope you all have a very crazy day inmates!

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Three lions weep,
An English rose wilts,
Saint George hangs his head low,

Have we lost our way?
A lethargic populace and uncaring elite,
A blight of bigotry,

England is drunk upon past glories,
Like wines taken from distant lands,
At sabre point,

Empire is dead,
We are the ashes,
Soon to be scattered,

Our brothers of the Hills,
The Lochs,
The Isles,
And across the sea,
All creeds and ways of life,
All forsaken,

We are part of this world,
We do not hold thrones above it,
Humanity is our real flag,
Hubris has painted a sorry picture,
Something akin to a red cross.

I often feel,
I’m surrounded by insects,
Moths specifically,

They flutter in office spaces,
Flitter sullenly about suburbs,
And drift carelessly along sidewalks,

They commune briefly,
Then fly on,
Towards their each own light,

We’re all moths you know,
We flutter about on frail wings,
Fragile aimless things,

We don’t even know we’re doing it,
We all have different wings,
Yet we all strive towards the same thing,

Towards a light,

At least we believe it’s the sun,
But as we draw closer,
The sun is peculiarly crypt-shaped.

These streets feed on the powerless,
The innocent girl needs saving,
She needs a hero,
A miscreant sought to mug her,
A comic book hero steps in,

He was a simple soul,
He liked comic books,
The release they obliged,
He was anemic yet kind,
He had known the role of the victim too long,

His room is a cathedral,
Albeit a messy one,
A monument to heroes and villains,
Of other worlds,
Legends in ink and colour,

Countless bibles to caped gods,
Titans in vivid costumes,
A host of impossible powers,
Strength unrivalled,
Paragons of virtue.

His idols,

Did he save her?
As it turns out,
The mugger did not fear his costume,
Two shots ring out,
A comic scrap fluttered away.

Atop my throne,
Flanked by steadfast smokestacks,
I often look to the skies,
The heavens,
Just visible through the neon pollution,
I admit I see only dollar signs,

I’m something of an industrialist,
Not exactly human,
The furnace within my ribs can only consume,
I auctioned off that old beating thing,
Ages ago,
Didn’t even get a good deal,

These iron hands may be cold,
But they work fast,
Because time is money,
Progress for it’s own sake,
All the green notes in my claws,
Create only more green in my eyes,

Humanity’s future lies on the profit margin,
Flight is wasted on the birds,
Beauty wasted upon angels,
Strength pointless in beasts,
These things should be ours,
Or mine,

Where’s the profit?
Where’s the progress?
The world can go down in flames,
Go under,
I’ll never notice,
I’ll be bathing in bullion.

While you dream softly,
They watch over your home,
Across the stars,

Gods of combat,
Gods of bullet and blade,
Frames of war,

The Tenno,
A name feared by evil,
Sent forth by a cosmic mother,

Knights of the system,
Stalwart against imperial tyranny,
And ancient horrors,

Her will be done.

Hello inmates.

I haven’t done one of these in a rather long time. Not since 2014! I’m not sure why, I suppose it simply never really came up. Maybe I haven’t been reminiscing as much recently. Anyway, I quite liked the idea of it before, So I’ve decided to make another with some of my older poems in it. It seemed apt with the new year looming in the horizon. Mayhap a little self-indulgent, but I don’t want my older poems to be forgotten. So, I would encourage any newer inmates to take a gander, You might see something you like!

The Clockwork Dragon – A tale of a frightening mechanical nightmare.
Internal Hydra – A poem, or perhaps an introspection, on humanity’s inner monster.
Red Stamp – An experimental poem about the horrors of fascism.
Night Sky – A poem about my adoration of the night.
Shotgun Romance – A twisted poem about love.
Sorcery – A poem about the magic of our own potential.
Beast of Eyes – A story of an otherworldly being.
Dirge of the Jester – One of my few forays into rhyme.

So there we have it. Just my personal picks from my archives. Every piece of writing I create is important to me, so I’d appreciate it immensely if you would let me know what you think. Here’s hoping that you won’t regret having a read.

On a side note, I hope you’ve been enjoying my more recent works! I’ve been getting back into the routine of writing daily, and I’ve been feeling so much better for it. Thanks to every one of you who takes the time to visit the asylum!

Until next time, have a very crazy day inmates!

Welcome to my home stranger,
Wipe your coats and hang up your shoes,
Make yourself at home please,
It is my fortress,
My sanctum,
My workshop,

Within its walls lies wonder,
And a hint of madness,
Here manifests my literary alchemy,
My lyrical experimentation,
It is a realm of perpetual loneliness,
But also true clarity,

I write every colour under the sun,
Angels in freefall playing violins,
Ballet with stars,
Dragons saving damsels,
Ghosts in pitched food-fights,
And heroes with villainous grins,

Stories and sonnets,
Poems and poesy,
This playground has all of these,
And so much more,
This is my castle,
This is my fortress,

Safe from the siege of outside rationality,
Safe from the slings and arrows of the world,
Safe from sanity.

To most who look,
Poetry looks a glorious act,
A noble act,
But it’s a lie,
It is butchery,

I hack and cleave,
Words into prime cuts,
Punctuation into mince,
It is a foul process,
The table glistens with grease and crimson,

Exsanguinate the prose,
And remove narrative viscera,
Carve a strip of exposition there,
And rend from it superfluous fat,
My pen thirsts for more,

Boiling bones of expression,
Reducing them to grist for future ventures,
Everything is red,
The grisly work is done,
For the punters to love and hate,

Caked in blood and gore,
Of projects discarded,
I am no writer,
No poet,
I am a butcher.

Feeling a touch nonsensical today,
Feeling a dash ridiculous,
My mind is scarlet jelly,
These thoughts are hundreds and thousands,

Once lost which way does a page turn?

Can a cookie become a chef?

Does winter prevail in many competitions?

Can a merchant learn to sale a ship?

Does my coffee need some medicine?

Can a mansion ever be a lady?

Random thoughts dart about,
I know I’m not making any sense,
But did I ever?

Nonsense