Nov 7, 2018
An Ace of spades
On the end of the arrow
Firmly notched in my bow.
Aim true
I beg the card
Even though
The target remains immutable
And ever changing.
Just this once
Aim true.
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An Ace of spades
On the end of the arrow
Firmly notched in my bow.
Aim true
I beg the card
Even though
The target remains immutable
And ever changing.
Just this once
Aim true.
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Ah where we weave our dark magic in bedrooms and studios - that spark which creeps around at the edge of vision like a secret wolf, but that we feel, like the warmth of coffee in our veins, that swallow it all like an addict. Ah where muscles lead minds and minds follow on, delirious and amazed.
Secrets and Music, Amanda Wells 2015
Luna
She keeps herself covered, letting them wonder.
Perchance the night seemed too dark –
as wise and inscrutable as she is.
She sees the hidden, she sees your soul
She sees the beauty behind that hole
Beware. She is everywhere.
But no, don’t be absurd, she’s not after you
She is just there; all she does is stop and stare.
Quite strange how every motion is being watched,
calculated, arbitrated, noticed…
But she remains immobile
and soundless.
It is forever
and a choice.
It is an endless battle between vision and voice.
Look up in the night sky and bid her goodbye
An hour or two she’ll venture her way
Out of the frolicsome annexes of this castle in the air
Up to the given nadirs of melancholy
Departing from you with the thoughts of her –
Preoccupied.
January 4, 2014