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Amanda M. Blake

~ Of fairy tales and tentacles

Amanda M. Blake

Tag Archives: lyrics

“Halloween Parade”

31 Tuesday Oct 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Poetry

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Tags

a nightmare for all seasons, halloween, halloween parade, happy halloween, lyrics, poem, Poetry, poetry collection

For Halloween, enjoy this lyrical poem that will be included in my seasonal horror poetry collection, A Nightmare for All Seasons, which comes out next year.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

HALLOWEEN PARADE

Days growing shorter
Darker the skies
Harvest the fields
Cooler breeze nights
Pumpkin spice cider
Hot apple pies
Leaves tumble by
Flickering lights

What is that scent
That floats on the wind?
What is that rumble
over the road?
We’ve waited all year
For them to return
We’ve waited all year
As the fortune teller foretold

The time has come
For the Halloween Parade
Everyone gather round
For the Halloween Parade
Our town bearing signs
That our children have made
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

Dancing brown grass
Golden leaves awhirl
Honey-roasted caramel
Cherry-lime swirl
Jack-o’-lantern here
Candied orange curl
For every good boy
And every good girl

How we have waited
For this celebration day
How we have yearned
For innocent little joys
Whether that comes from
Dancing pantomime clowns
From dazzling sequins
Or dark wicked play

The time has come
For the Halloween Parade
Bring your family down
For the Halloween Parade
The corn has been mazed
The gravestones all laid
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

Ghostly ghouls
Spirit trails
Haunted houses
Werewolf tails
Vampire grins
Mourning veils
Creepy songs
Eerie wails

Haven’t we suffered
Enough in this town?
Haven’t we had enough
Grief, pain, and sorrow?
When they come here
With their glamor and lights
We can pretend that
There is no more tomorrow

The time has come
For the Halloween Parade
Angels and demons come round
For the Halloween Parade
The contracts are signed
And the debts are all paid
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

Yes, the time has come
For the Halloween Parade
All restraints come unbound
For the Halloween Parade
Remember the warnings
Your old friends have said
Three more cheers now
For the Halloween Parade

This is just my face: Friday Update

08 Friday Sep 2023

Posted by amandamblake in A Few Thoughts, Novels, Poetry, Short Stories, Writing

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Tags

bloody mary, lyrics, novel, of the many faces, poem, queer saints volume II, rejection, we follow you in the dark, witchcraft

Bloody Ghost meets Thing. It’s good to make new friends.

News:

Because I somehow completely forgot about it last week, here’s the link again for “Of the Many Faces,” a gross and sexy and beautiful story (free to read) about a demon exchanging faces to overcome heartache.

Queer Saints Vol II has its cover reveal, plus the retooled cover for Vol I. They look pretty darn cool.

Other than that, there’s not much going on to announce.

I have, however, received so many rejections in the last week that it was a bit of an emotional beating. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t take rejections personally, but that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed. And I like validation as much as the next writer.

Usually, if a rejection particularly hurts, I give myself thirty minutes to feel bad about it, but this week, my emotions just didn’t want to be scheduled. So I took advantage of updating to Windows 11 and didn’t work at all on Wednesday. Sometimes, in doing work I love to do seven days a week, especially work that doesn’t pay well, I forget it’s still work and I need to take a break now and then. I read most of the day while I was locked out of my computer and felt significantly better afterward.

I reminded myself yesterday that I like my writing and psyched myself back up by scrolling through my short story collection I’m submitting in October, which is full of bangers, in my ever-so-objective opinion.

Works in Progress:

I finished We Follow You in the Dark, and it’s now on sub, even though I’m still not sure if it’s too short to be a novel (house styles can differ on word counts). So I’m between significant projects right now.

On a whim, I decided to work on a shorter version of an idea that already turned into a novel. This is not the first time I’ve done this, just to see if it can be scaled down to better match the sheer vibe of the original concept. I’m playing with the idea of eventually compiling a collection of these alternative versions.

After this, I’ll probably tackle a short story that isn’t due for a few months, but it would be nice to have, and I believe a few flash themes will be available, so I can work on that, too.

Then I think I’ll do the last proofreading pass on Puppeteer (Thorns 4) to send to the formatter, which means Puppeteer will probably be released in October.

After starting this trend in August, I’m still producing gothic horror and fantasy lyrical poems every five days or so. It’s exciting to unironically and unself-consciously explore these themes and just sit with the atmosphere in such a beautiful structure. I really like lyrics, even if the verses themselves wouldn’t translate well, perhaps, into song. They’re structured in a way that encourages rhyming, but it’s also flexible, because you can choose your own structure.

I’d kind of like to write a sestina one day, but every time I look up how they’re built, they give examples that don’t follow it, and I get confused, so I’ll keep pushing that back until I understand what’s going on.

Books I’m Reading:

IT by Stephen King
Discount Armageddon by Seanan McGuire
Cruel Summer by Wesley Southard
The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss (finished)
Pornography for the End of the World by Brendon Vidito

Music I’m Listening To:

Halloween playlist
Agnes Obel
Billie Eilish
Fleurie
Eurielle
Symphonies by Emily West
Abyss playlist
All I Ever Wanted by Kelly Clarkson

Things I’m Watching:

The Last Exorcism
The Haunting in Connecticut
Wounds
Hell Fest
Turistas

American Monster series
America’s Got Talent series
Dr. Pimple Popper series
CSI series
CSI:Miami series
Murder, She Wrote series
White Collar series
Locke & Key series
Buffy the Vampire Slayer series

Poem of the Week:

whiff of smoke and lavender
dried petals and stems strewn
over carved wooden pentagram
pour the wine and steep the milk
with rose hips and cardamom
copper hovers amid ash
blood not from the palm
hydrogen peroxide with bandage
over the safer tough arm
smells like witchcraft in here

Katie Cruel: Friday Update

01 Friday Sep 2023

Posted by amandamblake in A Few Thoughts, Novels, Writing

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Tags

bad romance, editing, horror novel, lyrics, marriage is hell, poem, we follow you in the dark, Writing

Photo by Selim u00c7etin on Pexels.com

News:

No writing news this week, actually. We’re kind of between calls, and most of what’s coming out later this year has been announced.

Works in Progress:

It’s a new month, so August calls are done and September calls have begun. I just sent a small slate of pieces where appropriate, and there are a few more calls opening in the next few days I’ll send out, too.

Mostly, I’ve been working on We Follow You in the Dark. I finished the first round of edits and cut about 9K words from the story, so now it’s around 55K, which might be too short to try to sub to agents as a novel, like Question Not My Salt, but I guess we’ll see once I’m finished with second-round edits, which should be today or tomorrow. I was worried I’d have more to do on this second round because of how demanding the first round was, but nope, it’s still just polishing. I’m not complaining.

We Follow is resurrecting all kinds of nineties nostalgia for a shopping mall now dead and gone that meant a lot to me as a kid. It inspired some poetry in the editing process. In addition, my daily Quill & Crow Crow Calls have been inspiring some horror lyrics. They’ll probably get turned into poetry, but I like song structure.

After We Follow, I have a novel under my other name to edit. Then I have a few small-long projects I’m thinking about just buckling down and tackling through some intensive writing months. There’s not much short story writing on my docket except for flash contests, unless a call really inspires me, but we’re heading into spooky season, which tends to bring out more calls.

Books I’m Reading:

IT by Stephen King
Discount Armageddon by Seanan McGuire
Cruel Summer by Wesley Southard
The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss

Music I’m Listening To:

Ruelle
Tina Guo
Lindsey Sterling
Agnes Obel
Buffy the Vampire Slayer score
Neverworld’s End by Xandria
The Heart of Everything by Within Temptation
Mirrorball by Sarah McLachlan
Modern Alchemy by Zayde Wolf
Moulin Rouge albums
No Moment but Now by Wendy Colonna

Things I’m Watching:

America’s Got Talent series
Dr. Pimple Popper series
CSI series
CSI:Miami series
Murder, She Wrote series
White Collar series
The Great British Baking Show: The Professionals series (finished)
The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt series
Locke & Key series

Poem of the Week:

these two hands
joined perfect union
tie the satin ribbon
white and pure
around their wrists
bind together
loyalty and love
tighter smooth
insidious dents
burst capillaries
knot again between
clasped fingers
dye the fabric
a deep red
tighter

“Wives”

17 Wednesday May 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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Tags

dracula musical, dracula's wives, jonathan harker, lyrics, poem, seduction, vampire, vampire horror

Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

Apparently, today was the day that Jonathan Harker was seduced by Dracula’s wives in his castle. To celebrate, here’s the song I wrote for the for-fun Dracula musical that I’m working on.

I.

I was not the first,
But I’m the eldest of wives.
We did not come on our own.
We were torn from our lives.

He’s a nobleman born.
Under chaos he thrives.
I was a peasant girl lost,
and under pale moon revives.

All I can remember
Are the palest of knives,
And under his firm palm
how a peasant girl thrives.

We are Dracula’s wives,
His three women scorned.
With him we have yearned.
With him we have mourned.

Soon you will see,
As all his wives do,
How he stirs in your blood
When you’re his wife, too.

II.

I he stole from my bed
As his empire fell.
He brought me to heaven,
and saved me from hell.

All the warriors he killed,
All the fires he’d quell.
While his enemies would bleed,
Our desires would swell.

I’m more from his world
Than my sisters could tell.
I know it pains him to see
His grand home now a shell.

We are Dracula’s wives,
His three women saved.
With him we have danced.
We him we have craved.

Soon you will see,
As all his wives do,
How he conquers a will
When you’re his wife, too.

III.

He left his home once north
To find me fairer-skinned
And encircled me close
In his frigid cold wind.

Though I prayed to the saints
Under him I have sinned.
Though I searched for the light,
Beneath him it has dimmed.

I begged him to stop,
But my lord simply grinned.
So my pleas have gone quiet,
My denials I rescind.

We are Dracula’s wives,
His three women kept.
With him we have dined.
With him we have slept.

Soon you will see,
As all his wives do,
How he shackles a heart
When you’re his wife, too.

To the River

27 Thursday Apr 2023

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry

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Tags

climate change, eco poetry, environmentalism, freshwater, lyrics, poem, spiritual revival song, threats to water supply, water

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

come on down to the river
the current runs red and the algae blooms sweet
come on down to the river
nothing more refreshing in the sweltering heat

come on down to the fresh mountain spring
just a trickle left but the last one clean
come on down to the fresh mountain spring
the clearest damn water that you’ve ever seen

come on down to the old deep well
a drought’s piercing through the dry cracked fields
come on down to the old deep well
the trumpets all sound and the scroll’s unsealed

come on down to the dark gutter drain
the bodies sink low and the corpse fluids rise
come on down to the dark gutter drain
where waste-streaked gods swallow all of our lies

come on down to the river
for an old-time spiritual revival song
come on down to the river
the end times are coming and it won’t be long

“Lullaby”

02 Sunday Oct 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Short Stories

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Tags

cemetery, crow's quill, cryptkeepers, halloween, horror, lullaby, lyrics, quill and crow, short story, slice of life

My slice-of-horror-life short story “Lullaby,” about a cemetery groundskeeper who tends the returning dead, is in this month’s Cryptkeeper issue of THE CROW’S QUILL. For a quiet Halloween read, go here.

Scarlet Eyes

23 Saturday Apr 2022

Posted by amandamblake in Music, Poetry, Writing

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Tags

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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Tags

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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Tags

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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.

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