The ramblings and photography of a genderfluid maniac and poet. Photography and poetry by Amanda Barnabe. 2004-
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Twilight
Your changing eyes engage me.
Thus for you I build a superficial night
laying down praise and feathers
to the ecclesiastic purring
of the timeless ivory tiger.
Because we exist in costume
dancing around the here and now;
Our one true divine form solely belongs to the ages.
We're more fragile than we like to think
however we are also infinite;
And that's what I choose as my faith
as tangerine rose pedals
drift down to us in the rain.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
I love watching the green of nature conquer
the cement and bricks and steel
humanity tried to build a empire from.
Threads
A single thread of silk
struggles to bind together
a stubborn love
and a life insisting on resisting.
In terror slumbers
and misguided dreams
I trash from side to side
until I wake barely covered
by a few threads
Pulling me back from tumbling
deeper in the dissociative mummers
deeper than the madness has ever dropped me.
The pearl in the sky
warms my unusually cool skin
as I toil with the remaining tendrils
to keep my foolish self
from falling away tonight.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tireless
Tirelessly we toil relentlessly
each life held by the hands of grace
is touched in a way of compassion
even after being ravaged
by the cruelty of life and unwatchfulness of angels.
But the blood of mercy is never still
and she's saving me.
The aching of missing that one star shaped heart
Is dulled and more comforting thoughts
of snap dragons and old iron embrace me.
I believe in my private goddess
and am prepared for the inferno
I the cynic with wings and walls in place
Honor glows around the virtuous sacred heart
and her body keeps me warm.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Love and Neon
It's the hardest part of year
Flitting by faster with embers stoked
By the faithful weight of old iron
and familiar curves.
I feel her laughter go a ghost.
In her heartbreaking generosity
A spark of intuition and wisdom
becomes her light in the window
to which I'm sure she lull future lovers.
The unavoidable part of true love
is the pain of altruism;
of actually wanting pleasures in lives
we've loved, lived and long for most.
She was perfect in ways I'll covet.
My heart constantly searches for
and leisurely linger longingly
in the fading neon glow
of our first kiss.
To my oldest friend, the night...
Spider lilies in my unraveled hair
"salutem" cut across my chest
You know I know the avenue
but I always loved you best.
Searching every crowded crevice
sizing up every scene
I've turned over nickles
For the clues that I now see.
Because every night it might be you
You might finally see me pretty
My adoration of your movements
Could tear apart the entire city
So here I am
and there you are
it matters not the coordinates
because we are bound by moving stars.
Falling in love is a lyric and a prayer,
wings spread and talons sharpened.
I rip a hole in the canvass of the universe
and kick the door of time
of it's fucking hinges.
My own goddess worships the same goddess
of wisdom, lust and kindness.
She drew a comma on my face
for a thought yet to be continued.
And I could spend eternal night
tracing every single line
and laying down praise in the creases
of her underlying grace and benevolence.
Roadside souvenirs, landmarks and cornerstones;
Yesterdays aren't always worth remembering
But never slip the surface of contemplation.
Eventually they dissolve and return
into the gaping nothingness
from which they've been rising.
A glowing diamond white tiger
rests her weary head gingerly on my lap
and whispers in the echoes of the night.
We watch for falling stars in a patch of clover
To be loved and embraced by solace
is to be a glow humbled by your heroine.
To look at the entire past and reevaluate
great expectations.
I never gave up hope
I've held out openly for bliss
But after so much time
your eyes play tricks on you
Making you and your counterpart
both the wild red fern
and the brightest stars of the dope show.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Pain
And sometimes nothing in the world is the key to happiness
so we are of a generation that must find
pleasure in the small things and relish in the freedom.
A deserving head on the pillow
after spending the day conversing in a courtyard of fools
and doing all the heavy lifting.
To be proud and memorizing
every single moon etched detail and reinforced with iron.
I require the skill to walk the tight rope
that's been lit on fire
but connecting the lives we have
to the majestic places we have yet to see.
There are amazing flights to be flown
and sun revolutions to produce an argument
to which the existence of time is question.
Born of a sparrow
burned like a phoenix
but rising in a violet cloud of flame and pyre despite the pain.
Pain in a driving force
and pain can be absolutely beautiful Like hurricanes, gravity and love.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Hover
With the midnight sparrow I spread my wings
and latch on the blissful wind
leading me in the arms of granite gargoyles.
The church bells are quiet now
as they whisper in Latin
the secret of life and the voice of God
into a rhythm only the sky understands.
The mutiny is hot in my veins
as I truly feel your echo pass through me.
I feel the dilation from an electric touch
Each breath I take I feel the oxygen
push through me and into your mind.
I submit to you the will of my soul and body.
Soaring wings push me to the abyss
and I scream into the void still mocking me.
She never answers in a timely fashion.
The north eastern wind capsizes my body
and makes the suggestion it is best to fly home
and wait in a state of dreaming
so the eyes of a tiger can watch over me.
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