Thursday, September 16, 2010

What's in a name?

- My name is Amanda.  Which means "Worthy of Love" in Latin.  Ironically enough, my biggest hang up in life is that I don't believe I'm worthy of it. 


A wound, an ache
that never stops bleeding.
Slices to my core
tearing me into pieces.
So I obfuscate the idea and
talk myself in circles,
trying to get away from it.
The answer seems simple.
Cover up the pain
Attempt to suffocate it away.
Drown myself in intimacy, attention,
intercourse, love.
If I'm touched enough,
maybe I'll quit believing
in that small
but potent voice
that degrades me everyday.
The insidious viral infection
that permeates my being will wither away.

p.s. most of my poetry relates to intense emotions, or taking an emotion and expanding and illucidating it.  Which means most of them are sad.  *I* am a generally very happy person.  Do not let my writing fool you.

Friday, September 10, 2010

One of those endless nights

Well hello,
endless night.
It's been a while.
I didn't know 
you were going to stop by.
'course when you come
everything else goes....
and I'm left
in the pause 
between dusk and dawn
waiting in the space 
between thoughts.
Where silence has 
no semblance of sense.

When the world goes away
and I'm left with myself
in the night before the day
I default to mindless play.
Match cards to each other,
Mahjong's a good game.
Little squiggles
matched to others.
Pictures that resemble each other
paired up.
I usually lose.
But when I win,
I get to play again.
Same elements,
just rearranged.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010


Ok, so the artsy stuff has been consistent, but I don't believe I'm going to do much with RisingDawn at the moment.  There's too much going on, and my interests have been all over the board.  One of those times in my life when I get uber excited about a lot of different things, and it's getting too hectic.  And at the same time, other things feel like they are falling apart.  So back to centerting in on the things that matter.

9.07.10 centering

coincentric movements
lithe, limber, tenaciously tender
circles the center
closing in on the origin
of thought,
of matter,
of what matters.