Amanda

Coral memory replacing repeating

Stony faced people wait in line for the Secret Amanda Palmer show

Priestess of darkness of sparkling eyes corseted fierce

Organ tremble her fingers dancing provoke eternal devotion

But the crowd doesn’t dance and they don’t bang their heads

As the Queen pours Life for all to drink

They only hum and tap or maybe clap

A soup of boiling persons in still bodies

Sing pang pain carousing soul

The circus of Anne Frank’s psyche, Amanda pushes through

Her voice so smooth and sweet (yet cracking with life like an old record player)

Like one you loved so long ago

The crowd is there, but is it awake?

Write to extract what is to do to say to create a tornado

Of being alive

I reprimand myself for not screaming out

She is going to perform a play with students from her old high school

I want to be on stage with the queen of darkness in the circus that sounds through the streets

The killer king is a star; I guess it runs in family, to be a Two-Headed Boy

A girl walking around without clothes, it might as well be

Sexed up pumped up, the only girl I ever loved

Roses in her eyes; half a heart missing

Discrimination alienation violence

Is the world wrapped in gold silver sleeve?

Screaming out to be alive