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Amanda M. Blake

~ Of fairy tales and tentacles

Amanda M. Blake

Category Archives: Poetry

Dead Ends – poetry of the morbid and macabre

02 Thursday Mar 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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dead ends, death and dying, macabre, morbid, Poetry, self-publishing

I can’t even be coy about the cover reveal, because I’m kind of excited (nervous, but excited) that I’m putting out this little morbid poetry collection in April.

Most of the poems consist of flash pieces and reconstructed lyrics shared through social media the last few years that are already considered published and therefore unlikely to be republished. I include a few new pieces, too, though.

New Normal

28 Saturday Jan 2023

Posted by amandamblake in A Few Thoughts, Poetry

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normal, poem

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

We need to let go
of this idea of normal
as something we’ve lost.
There is no normal.
It’s true monthly, yearly,
five years, a decade,
but easier to see if
you look back twenty years,
then another twenty years
then another twenty.
There is no normal.
There is your childhood,
and then there is now.
Sometimes, normal just changes
faster than usual
with a cruel snap
like whiplash,
but the disaster
is just as normal
as the calm before.
We always live in
unprecedented times.

“An Empyrean Con”

16 Wednesday Nov 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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bloodless, empyrean con, horror, poem, Poetry, published, sliced up press

I shared this on Twitter but kept forgetting to put it here. My first paid poem, “An Empyrean Con,” is featured in BLOODLESS from Sliced Up Press, a collection of blood-free horror.

the sea is boiling today

17 Sunday Jul 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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climate change, eco poetry, environmentalism, poem, Poetry, social justice

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
We can clear the burning black
From the smoldering bay

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
Dead fish are swimming
Belly up to play

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
The coral’s gone white
The seaweed’s gone gray

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
It’ll only last an hour
Or at most a day

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
No need to point fingers
We can afford to delay

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
Sure it looks bad here
But not as bad as they

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
We promise it gets better
No need not to stay

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
We’ll keep our thoughts pure
On our knees to pray

The sea is boiling today
But that’s okay
By the time it’s all gone
We’ll all be away

“A Still and Weathered Stone”

01 Wednesday Jun 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry, Short Stories, Writing

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Tags

death, gothic, melancholia, Short Stories, supernatural

Not only do I have two poems coming out in Crow Calls Vol. 4, a short, melodramatic little story can be found in the June 2022 Melancholia issue of the gothic lit zine The Crow’s Quill.

Scarlet Eyes

23 Saturday Apr 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry, Writing

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dracula, lyrics, musical, songwriting, vampire

Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

I made a casual resolution that I’d like to write a Dracula musical, just for my own enjoyment, because I like my collection of them. This lyric has been clattering around in my head for a while.

is this a dream?
or am I awake?
does the lord come
for my soul to take?

the twilight grows damp
my vision goes dim
the sunset downs dark
all I see is him

i try to awaken
but the whispers insist

the scarlet eyes
the scarlet eyes
the scarlet eyes in the mist

cool on my skin
hot to the touch
have i ever known love
to desire this much?

lights in the shadow
salt on my tongue
sin in my heart
yearning unsung

i try to remember
why i should resist

the scarlet eyes
the scarlet eyes
the scarlet eyes in the mist

Rattlin Bones

05 Sunday Sep 2021

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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biblical, ezekiel 37, folk, lyrics, poem, skeleton, songwriting

I’d been holding onto a few lines of this for ages and only came up with a song to go with it today.

Loosely inspired by Ezekiel 37, the Valley of Dry Bones, should have a lovely, rough folk beat, like Bishop Briggs’ “River.”

–

RATTLIN BONES (EZEKIEL 37)

Rattlin bones
Rattlin bones
Get up and dance
You rattlin bones
Can bones yet live?
You rattlin bones
Rise up in the name of the Lord

Skeleton fingers
On skeleton hands
Counting the time
For the skeleton band
Skeleton feet
With skeleton toes
Tapping along
To the feast of the crows

Rattlin bones
Rattlin bones
Get up and dance
You rattlin bones
Can bones yet live?
You rattlin bones
Rise up in the name of the Lord

Tendons on bone
Muscle to skin
Build up the bodies
To the flesh that they’re in
The breath of life
A song in the air
To dance in the dust
Of the flesh that they bear

Rattlin bones
Rattlin bones
Get up and dance
You rattlin bones
Can bones yet live?
You rattlin bones
Rise up in the name of the Lord

The graves are all open
The souls are all free
Teeming the valley
For all souls to see
The multitude sings
Stomps thousands of feet
Unsettling the dust
To the living hearts’ beat

Rattlin bones
Rattlin bones
Get up and dance
You rattlin bones
Can bones yet live?
You rattlin bones
Rise up in the name of the Lord

We are the Enemy 2.0

17 Monday May 2021

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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lyrics, not a poet, poem, social justice, songwriting

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I posted a simpler, cleaner version of WE ARE THE ENEMY last year, but I’ve revisited the first version and decided that, though it has some similar lines, it has a few different kinds of things to say. I’m battling a lot of feelings that are bigger than me, so big I can barely put them into words. I decided to borrow, for now.

WE ARE THE ENEMY 2.0

Truth, justice, and the American way
Heroes fly with stars and stripes, red and blue and white
It’s all okay at the end of an American day
How we do it doesn’t matter if we’re right.

God bless America, we’re right, so we must be good
And if we’re good, we can’t be wrong
And if we can’t be wrong, we do what we should
We do what we should, with an oath and a song.

We are the villains in too many stories
And not just those of those we condemn
We think power makes us strong
And strength gives us the right to win.

That because we are strong, we must be good
That because we are good, we must be free
But look at what we do, look at what we’ve made of you and me
We are the enemy.

Holding the unfinished in steel claws
While buildings crumble to the ground
Our words are sacred, absolute oaths
Never to be torn, burned, or bound.

All without words spoken, without the mark
Can fall to the conviction of our words
Our deeds are counted by the cruelties dealt
Cards we call good, the right of the sword.

I never thought I’d see the day
I never thought I’d see the day
When there were people we didn’t need to save
Sacrificed because they had the wrong name
Because they didn’t play the right game
Or didn’t resist wrong the right way.

I never thought I’d see the day
Until the day I knew it had been here all along
Trails of tears, trails of blood
Stepping on the bodies of innocents
To climb to the top and tell ourselves
It’s our day, our sun
Because we’re the ones casting the shadow
We never put down the sword or the word
There was never depth too low for us to go
As we cursed those casting shade in the shadow we made.

Because here I thought we were trying
Instead of lying and calling it truth
Instead of executions called justice out of court
Instead of pride for an American way
That’s always been the American way.

I knew we were bad. I thought we were better.

We are the villains in too many stories
And not just those of those we condemn
We think power makes us strong
And strength gives us the right to win.

That because we are strong, we must be good
That because we are good, we must be free
But look at what we do, look at what we’ve made of you and me
We are the enemy.

We are the Enemy

30 Wednesday Dec 2020

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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can't breathe, coronavirus, lyrics, not a poet, poem, racism, social justice, songwriting

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I haven’t gotten many songs written this year, because I’ve felt too strongly for anything to coalesce into something substantial. But I managed to put something into words, things I’m afraid of saying, but it’s done. The sickness hasn’t quite left my chest yet, but it’s done.

WE ARE THE ENEMY

We thought we were heroes
We tried to be
We wanted to be
We said we were good
We said we were free
Free to be good
Free to be bad
We could choose the we that we wanted to be
We made the choice
We decided not to see
We made it from the start
We were and are and ever will be
We thought we were heroes
We are the enemy.

We’re the heroes of our story
The greatest country
In the smallest world
Built with blood money
Grown from flesh seeds
Of brown cocoa
And black coffee
Of corn and cotton under a chopped cherry tree
We deny responsibility
If it wasn’t personally
When under other names
Still degradation of humanity
We thought we were heroes
We are the enemy.

Never villains of our story
Inconceivable that we’d ever be
Treason to even claim
Unpatriotic, unthinkable treachery
That means we won’t listen
No longer have to hear
No longer have to see
We’re villains if our villains do the same things
We condemn the evil deeds
In a mirror, cry deniability
If we say it enough times
We think everyone will believe
We thought we were heroes
We are the enemy.

Stab a knife in the high ground
And dig two graves
One the bed we made
The other the dead we laid
Layers and layers tall
We say they make us feel small
And that the bed we made
Isn’t comfortable at all
There’s only so many times
To deny that we fall
And to pretend that we would never
Have been a villain, too, through it all.

If we say it enough times
We think everyone will believe
In what we say
Instead of what they see
We thought we were heroes
We are the enemy.

COMING SOON – DRIFT

12 Wednesday Aug 2020

Posted by amandamblake in Novels, Poetry

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drift, fairy tale, fantasy, novel, sea, self-publishing, selkie, water, Writing

CBC Drift partialThe water calls, my dear, my love,
So dive into the deep,
Where fish will feed and nourish you
And whales sing you to sleep.

The water calls, my dear, my love,
As moon calls to the shore.
From cracking ice and rising seas,
We’ve come this way before.

The water calls, my dear, my love,
Against your thicker skin.
Hide it when it sheds away
To protect the one within.

The water calls, my dear, my love.
Beware the hearts of men,
For they will tempt with hollow words
And steal from you your skin.

The water calls, my dear, my love,
So dive into the deep,
Where fish will feed and nourish you
And whales sing you to sleep.

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