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Amanda M. Blake

~ Of fairy tales and tentacles

Amanda M. Blake

Category Archives: Poetry

Tattoo

29 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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lyrics, not a poet, poem, songwriting, tattoo

grayscale photo of person applying tattoo

Photo by Adrian Boustead on Pexels.com

Inspired in part by the death of Zombie Boy. It got me thinking in the direction of The Illustrated Man and some of my tattooed characters and what tattoos mean to them.

There’s no real style to the song. I don’t hear music to it yet.

TATTOO

Oh, what a tangled web he weaves
When first he practices to deceive
An open book, come enter in
Wears a skeleton on his skin
And his heart out on his sleeve
Inside out, outside in

Ink spills in the air he breathes
What he says, what he believes
Creates the world he’s living in
Wears his people on his skin
Gives away what he receives
Inside out, outside in

What you see, what you perceive
Everyone you love always leaves
When one ends, another begins
Skulls and roses on his skin
Why keep a heart when it can grieve?
Inside out, outside in

Doesn’t care what lies beneath
Colors’ pain is always brief
Hounds of hell, where have you been?
Illustrations on his skin
Showing claws, showing teeth
Inside out, outside in

Oh, what a tangled web he weaves
When first he practices to deceive
An open book, come enter in
Wears a skeleton on his skin
And his heart out on his sleeve
Inside out, outside in

Red

22 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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fairy tale, female revenge fantasy, lyrics, not a poet, poem, red riding hood, rock, songwriting, wolf

hand full of blood

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Here’s that fairy tale rock song that I wrote a couple weeks ago, even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to use it. My voice has no natural roughness. Also, I can’t do sexy to save my life.

I recently introduced myself to Halestorm and Lzzy Hale’s amazing voice, and I guess I was inspired. So just imagine her singing it instead. If I were ever to use this song, I’d have to strip it down a lot.

RED

If you think I’m a pretty young thing
You don’t know what I’ve seen
You know what I mean
Look at my red leather, supple and lean,
Time for me to come clean
You know what I mean

Chorus:
I’m not a good girl
I’m a girl who’s gone bad
The baddest you’ve had
A little bit mad
And though I’m here walking
Alone in the woods
You’d escape if you could
From the pretty sharp teeth of
Red Riding Hood

I used to be innocent, proper and sweet
Not a girl on the street
You don’t want to meet
But a good girl knows just when she’s been beat
I need something to eat
And you’re my kind of meat.

Chorus

Look at me
Dressed in the skin
Of the wolf that I’m in
Can’t you see
You don’t know where I’ve been
But if you let me in…

[Spoken] What big eyes you have…

Don’t go away
Come in and play
If you come this way
I’ll put this knife away
And let you blow me away…

[Spoken] Why, sir, what stunning skin you have.
It would be a shame to waste it on a wolf like you.
Can you see now what little girls can do?

Chorus

Sleepwalker

15 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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anthony bourdain, depression, ennui, lyrics, not a poet, songwriting, suicide

black and white gray grey smooth

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I wrote this on the same day as “Music Box” and was strongly influenced by Anthony Bourdain’s death for both.

“Sleepwalker” feels closer to the soft alt sound of Svrcina and Fleurie to me, but harsh it a little and you get Christina Perri, I think.

SLEEPWALKER

Give you all my time.
Give you heart and soul
My attention on the line
Every part and every whole

My last stitch of spirit
Until tapestry unwinds
Threads fringe and split
Wrap into the ties that bind

Chorus:
Running in place, sinking under high tide
Masks on my face, I’m living inside
Making up stories and worlds in my head
Because the world’s running wild and hard
And I’d rather be in my world instead
I’m never present, always away
Go where I’m sent, do whatever they say
They call me sleepwalker, the day’s living dead
Because the world’s running wild and hard
And I’d rather be in my world instead.

Go to bed, sleep awake
Mornings wake up weary
I offer the devil my soul to take
But pay the piper too dearly.

Waiting between work
Life’s a series of lines
Living dark to dark
Time’s slow but life flies.

Chorus

Bridge:
We fill ourselves empty, health ourselves sick
Tear out foundations, brick by dead brick
Swear on our tomes we’ve not even read
Unable to speak until we have bled.
We give up our freedom, small sacrifice
We give up our virtues for taste of a vice
Running around without any heads
We lie on the train tracks, making our beds.

Chorus

Rest of Your Life

01 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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frustration, inaction, indecision, lyrics, mortality, not a poet, songwriting

shallow focus photography of hourglass

Photo by Jordan Benton on Pexels.com

“Rest of Your Life” is more freestyle than some of my other structured nuggets. No joke, I came up with it in the shower and kept having to leave the bathroom in the middle of drying myself off to write another few lines. Because I sure as hell ain’t going to remember it if I don’t get it down. This is why I keep notebooks everywhere.

I’m not even sure what the style would be or who it would sound like. Maybe it’s in the mode of Sara Bareilles? Maybe it’s just a poem instead of a lyric. And yes, the first verse is a nod to Hamilton.

Anyway, I’m just going to leave this here.

REST OF YOUR LIFE

I’ll admit that I thought I had time
They said I had time
Now I’ve run out of time
And it’s only harder from here.

All my life they told me you’re gonna be fine
Just follow the line
And watch for the signs
You’ll be just fine
And there’s nothing to fear.

But I look back on years of pouring the resin
And that doesn’t lessen
The pain of this lesson
To see my mistakes in all of their glory
And now mine’s a story
Heading near to the end before it begins.

This is the rest of your life
The fly caught in amber
The mammoth in ice
None of it ever really matters
The days pass, minutes by hours
And nothing ever changes
No risks and no dangers
Until no one remembers
You were here when you die

The hourglass is streaming down with the sand
I’m just the glass, the length of the strand
The more the clock ticks, the more I understand
Time falls and time flies, no matter what’s planned.

The mirror’s no clearer
And sand only gets dearer
As grain after grain slips through my hands.
And I’m the one turning the pages.
Sleepwalking through all of the stages
Playing someone else’s part in someone else’s band.

I don’t take my stand.
I remain where I land
Don’t know if I can still set myself free
If the chains are all coming from me.

This is the rest of your life
The fly caught in amber
The mammoth in ice
None of it ever really matters
The days pass, minutes by hours
And nothing ever changes
No risks and no dangers
Until no one remembers
You were here when you die

Fools

26 Thursday Jul 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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environmentalism, lyrics, not a poet, Poetry, songwriting

white stone

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Everything else is feeling too close to home right now, so I’m pulling out “Fools.” I wrote it while half-listening to Sandra McCracken’s “Fool’s Gold” (nothing like this song, just saying), but it’s always sounded more Patty Griffin in my head.

It was another attempt at an extended metaphor that ended up working in two directions. Because I can only talk about things that matter to me in the most indirect way possible, don’t you know.

FOOLS

They carve through the earth
Through granite and curse
Searching for something to make it worthwhile.
Under pressure and birth
The chisels all hurt
Cutting through veins with a wink and a smile.

The men are all strapped
They point and they laugh
Boasting that any time they’ll strike it rich.
The more cunning the craft
The more they rush past
Leaving behind nothing but holes left unstitched.

The girl don’t shine bright enough in the dark
In searching for gold, they’ve torn her apart
And when they move on, she still takes it hard
‘Cause only fools find gold after piercing a heart.

She tries so to glitter
But it’s all only glass
The soil tastes bitter
Down under the grass
The tools have all scarred her
Above and below
And Midas can’t touch
Where the red rivers flow.

For crystals and stone
They’ve left her alone
She’s cold and she’s empty with nothing to lose
The gold in their bones
She’ll save for her own
When everything they gain can no longer be used.

The girl don’t shine bright enough in the dark
In searching for gold, they’ve torn her apart
And when they move on, she still takes it hard
‘Cause only fools find gold after piercing a heart.

Vultures

18 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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class warfare, lyrics, not a poet, Poetry, politics, racism, social commentary, song, songwriting, vultures

closeup photo of vulture

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(I have a review of TEETH that’s been sitting in my notebook since April, but I just haven’t had a hot second to transcribe it. I’m going to try to get that in this weekend, maybe?)

“Vultures” is one of the first pieces I wrote, so naturally I wanted to do something ambitious by doing a full social commentary metaphor, because why ease into this new thing I’d never done before? But I do that a lot now to channel anger in an indirect way.

If I had to provide a style comparison for “Vultures,” it would probably lean early Sarah McLachlan.

(Apologies to actual vultures, who are awesome.)

VULTURES

Scavengers caught in cages
Different stages of difficult phases
Fangs filed, claws clipped
To the bone, wings snipped.

Ribs press against skin
As spectators stare in
At beasts who never stood a chance
And never stand a chance again.

Fresh apples in dead mouths
Fresh blood, draining down
Decaying flesh, begging hand unfurled.
When did vultures get to rule the world?

Gold glints in their eyes
Black velvet circling the skies
Safe from the kill, prey the predator’s own.
When did vultures get to rule the world?

Beasts of work, beasts of burden
Unburdened by strain of security
Best to stay low to the ground
Better to maintain the purity.

Hungry eyes, the grass is greener
Where it isn’t needed.
What’s a hare to do
With something to care for, my dear?
Just another bit of roadkill.
No one’s crying, my dear.

Carrion desiccation
Unrepentant desecration
Each poor dying soul strung like a pearl.
When did vultures get to rule the world?

Everything collapses
And dignity lapses
There’s always dissatisfaction
For them to feast upon
A battered, bloody violent reaction
For them to feast upon
As though it doesn’t matter
Which beast they feast upon.

And the predators know
To leave a generous share.
Let the thoroughfare war
Over whether it’s fair.

There’s always more dead to go around.
Always something to blame farther down on the ground.
When did vultures get to rule the world?
When did vultures get to rule the world?

Music Box

11 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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adulting, depression, lyrics, not a poet, Poetry, songwriting

person holding pen leaning on table

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Another simple lyric. Since it’s called “Music Box,” I’m guessing you know what it’s supposed to sound like. It’s been another hard week.

MUSIC BOX

I rise when they raise me
I sleep when they close
Round, Rosie, round
When I stop, no one knows.

Lullaby dancer, princess ballet
I turn and I spin, pirouette and sway.
Round, Rosie, round
Forever and ever I’ll stay.

My music turned on
By someone else’s hand
Wind me up, winding down,
Still as a statue I stand.

Silhouette on a mirror
Glitter trapped in my eye
Reflection ‘comes clearer
Too porcelain to cry.

I’ll dance to your music
And bow when you close
Round, Rosie, round
When I stop, no one knows.

I’ll guard all your treasures
For here I have none
No pain and no pleasures
My music is done.

My Captain

04 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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captain america, filk, independence day, lyrics, not a poet, Poetry

white and red flag

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A few of my friends know I was irrationally upset by the new Cap story line in the comics. Which is silly, because I don’t even read the comics. I’m a movie!verse fan.

I can’t imagine it was a symbolic way of dealing with other feelings I’ve been having or anything, since I process better through fiction. That’s just ridiculous.

Anyway, I wrote this because I just have a lot of feelings still, even after the storyline in the comics resolved itself. Must be nice.

MY CAPTAIN

O Captain, My Captain
Emblem of an anthem left long behind
The last living legend, ice and time confined
Willing to walk that harrowing line
O Captain, My Captain
She has your heart, so you can use mine.

O Captain, My Captain
Ideal icon of the land that I love
Is it too much that we’re asking you of?
Land of the warhawk, while you hold a dove
O Captain, My Captain
We don’t deserve, but you’re never enough.

Bridge:
You’re everything we dreamed we could be
You stand for all we should be
But until we know why we made thee
Fight for what we thought we would be.

O Captain, My Captain
Betrayal hurt more than I could have known
False idol, false friend, forging a false throne
The one in your place denied, to fight alone
O Captain, My Captain
Tell me, what have we done?
O Captain, My Captain
Tell me what we have become.

Anything But a Diamond

29 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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love song, lyrics, Music, Poetry, romance, romantic

pexels-photo-168927.jpeg

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I’ve decided to start sharing some of these songwriting pieces as I go, in part because writing wants to be shared. I’m also scared to share, but I need to get over that if I don’t want to be an absolute wreck every time I put out a book. (I lost it a few times while putting out Nocturne.)

So…starting small with one of my first pieces. The style is meant to be something quiet that Miranda Lambert might sing. If this is my version of romantic, I’m going to have a heck of a time trying to write typical love songs. That’s okay. Plenty of other people out there to do it better.

ANYTHING BUT A DIAMOND

Stay away from candlelight
Don’t get down on one knee
No violins serenading
Anything but a diamond, please.

No kiss under a bright full moon
No soft island breeze
I don’t need angels standing by
Anything but a diamond, please.

I never asked for forever
All I asked for was now
All I wanted was you and me together
I never wanted a vow.

At my best I was never romantic
I kept expectations low
When the fairy tale waits too long to come by
It’s too easy to choose the devil you know.

I don’t want a fairy tale ending
No happily ever after for me
If you love me, then just say it out loud
Anything but a diamond, please.

Songwriting Goals Achieved

19 Saturday May 2018

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry, Writing

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Tags

creativity, goals, lyrics, Music, songwriting

For the purpose of accountability, I just wanted to share that my challenge to write an average of one song a month has been met well before the deadline. I’ve discovered I have two lanes when it comes to subject matter, but they don’t exactly go together, so if I ever decide to produce anything, who knows what kind of EPs I’d come up with. 🙂 I wrote a song about trypophobia, then followed it with the sweetest love song I know how to write.

In general, I seem to favor dark social/religious commentary and self-deprecating humor.

Anyway, here’s the list, in alphabetical order (I’ll follow up on the end of the year with a full 2018 list, and maybe I’ll share a few):

1. “Vultures”
2. “Anything but a Diamond”
3. “Standing Water”
4. “Fools”
5. “The Valley of the Shadow”
6. “City on the Hill”
7. “Plenty of Fish”
8. “Devil in the Details”
9. “Trypophobia”
10. “Without You”
11. “Svrcina”
13. “My Captain”

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