Tag: Amanda Palmer

#PoeticAnswers 43 – How Did You Discover Amanda Palmer?

This romance happened by chance,
A brief introduction in a theatre class,

We were working on a production of
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”,
Which was slowly turning into a nightmare
Due to the director’s tendency to be laissez-faire
And the actors didn’t seem to care
As actors tend to do.

My friend and ally,
Let’s call her Lucy because,
Well, that was her name.
She played Puck and Lysander
Spoke with virtue and candour
And she was not down with this chaos-

But that’s another story,
I might tell that one later-

But we clicked and connected,
Our personalities blended,
I was Oberon to her Puck,
Although I wish I had the luck
To be Hermia to her Lysander,
I really should have asked her-

Sorry I got distracted,
But you see, this girl impacted
My life in such a way during this
Awful, awful play,
And she introduced me to the sound
Of the Queen of the Boston underground.

(You’re welcome to complain,
But I just needed a rhyme).

My eyes were opened to beauty and truth
After awkwardly being sent “Delilah” by Bluetooth,
Then ‘A is for Accident’ and then ‘Yes Virginia’
Starting with the songs that were nearly vanilla,
Before ascending to madness with ‘Missed Me’ and ‘Backstabber’
All thanks this bodacious, genderfluid Lysander.

And though we’ve drifted apart, I still have Amanda.
She’s a constant, vibrant, talented reminder
Of the past and a force saying things will be better
Forming groups on Facebook, providing a shelter
For the outcasts and artists, the mad and fantastic
From across the Pacific, South Seas and Atlantic.

If these rhymes have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:

I’ve got this girl, Shakespeare and you to blame,
For all this support and love and I have no shame
When I commit these awful crimes of rhyme.
So darling, if you have the time,
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Amanda shall restore amends.

Question from Delaney A.

#PoeticAnswers 12: How Can You Love Vegemite?

I saw the sheets, Dave,
You left your crumbs in our bed
That was our bed,
We made love like an over making bread,
It was hot and rising,
And maybe a little yeasty at times,
But how could you taint it with another essence?

Is this why you got the second bank account?
To fund your filthy problem?
I can’t look at you,
I can see it on your lips,
I can smell it on your hreath,
Like a battery left to leak in the sun,
A blend of acid and ass

I can compromise,
You can buy the crunchy peanut butter
Even though I prefer the smooth.
Even though the bits get stuck
To you dentures and I can’t kiss you,
I’d rather have a thousand nuts in my mouth
Than let you kill me in this way.

Why is Fido licking the knife?
You took the dog too?
He was an innocent child,
He wasn’t a pawn for you to play with,
My sense of smell is not a pawn for you to play with,
Did you even think about me?
No, it was always about you,

It’s always take, take, and take with you,
You never think about me, Dave.
You took away my Nutella
But that wasn’t enough
Did you have to take away my Biscoff?
I am the only sweet thing in your life you can spread
But I’ll be damned if I let you do that again.

Is this over, Dave?
We used to be like bread and butter,
Now you’ve gone and found another.
How can you do this to me?
How can you bring this cancer into our bed?
How can you love Vegemite?
It’s over, Dave.

Question inspired by Amanda F. Palmer