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Oct 2015 · 763
I Didn't Write a Love Poem
Amanda Fletcher Oct 2015
You know, I’ve wanted
to say this for a very long time,
but for a very long time
I haven’t believed that
you’ve been ready to hear it nor
have I been ready to say it.
Three.big.words.
So big my throat can’t store it
can’t keep it together it comes
out in stutters,
I Luh, I Luh, I Luhhhvee Y-yu-you.
this, is the first time.
This is the first I’ve felt
vulnerable and empowered
at the same time.
This time is kind of amazing
This duality inside of me
fighting against one another
My heart choosing sides,
Left and right, ripping me apart
A ****** valentine
a serious war. like,
the Devil and God are Raging Inside of Me,
Yes, this is Brand New. I wrote a ballad
For you, a love song from deep emotions
mixed up making
a ballad that cries out
the howls of true devotion
the secrets never spoken
under the sheets where I lie,
next to your embodied soul
You soft *******.
Let me hold you, let me cast you
under the spell I brewed myself
brewed right here. Right here.
in the place where I actually love you
because I actually love you
in the softest portion of my heart
the most delicate, touchable, stababble
place in my heart
a sensitive baby
crawling into my throat
choking me with the words
the words inside my throat
I’m choking
on a flavored peanut caught
in the wrong tube I am choking
on something so dang sweet,
like sweeter than the 90’s chokers,
Love. Is. A Hard Peanut.

I believe in the like
Maybe some faith in the love.
I spat up the peanut
It left sugar in my mouth
but I spat it out. It was, after all,
Lodging my airway
Constricting my muscles
Suffocating my taste for reality
Organically altering the song
Of my tongue, like I found the tune at Whole Foods.
You Stupid Peanut, of course I found you at Whole Foods
You’re a Genetic Beauty, modified once originally
You hard Peanut
I Love You I Love You I Love You!

There, I said it
With my choking throat
My loving Soul.
My soft heart
I love you, Peanut.
May 2015 · 329
You Can See
Amanda Fletcher May 2015
It's interesting, being in the dark and all.
Suddenly your strength is taken away,
though you are not senseless.
Power simply takes on a new format,
a new vigor on the road.

Let the dark be your light.
Let it guide you blind through the heavy obstacles,
and to a place of safe keeping.
Use a new strength,
a power in your temple so you can open your eyes,
So you can see through the darkness
without senseless demise.
Apr 2015 · 1.4k
Mattress
Amanda Fletcher Apr 2015
Mattress your old, mattress you’re heavy.
Mattress you heave, mattress you hold.
Mattress, you’re heavy.

Mattress you rock and mattress you cradle
and mattress you carry the weight of my feathered bones
mattress you steal mattress my dreams
mattress haven mattress heathens,
mattress, ***** me, rock me, carry me, mattress
I do.
Mattress you’re heavy, mattress you’re tough
mattress you’re powerful, your rough
mattress your edges are rough mattress

Mattress on my back mattress
over my shoulders mattress on top of my soul,
pushing me down, no.
Mattress to carry my weight all the way home
mattress support dreams and mattress support evil
and mattress speak loud mattress
scream louder
mattress no,
mattress, yes,
mattress,  victim,  
mattress, ghost
Written under pen name Jason Red
For Emma Sulkowicz and all her inspirational power.
Apr 2015 · 582
Hush
Amanda Fletcher Apr 2015
Shhhhhhhhh, shh, shush!
They can hear you!
The sun is shining and you’re excited
but you’re missing the point!
It’s about change, something new.
It’s about the sport bamarama homerun
outta the park and into their eyes.

Huuuuushhh!
We can’t be a bunch of buzzing flies,
Mean, disturbing cries disguised as whiny babies.
Well, I guess this whole thing is a baby,
But also a promise, to the future.

Shhshshhshhh.
Call it Heaven,
because once they give us the key
the pearly gates open wide.
Let my angels sing with their large white wings.
We got a future to fly for.

Shhhhhhhhh!
Don’t you get it?
Freedom of speech doesn't unlock your voice box.
It strings your arrow and pulls it back,
shooting through the hearts of grey suits.

Hush.*
Now you know,
don’t give away your position with your battle cry,
shoot your arrow into the source.
Written under pen name Abbey Day
Apr 2015 · 1.1k
Furniture
Amanda Fletcher Apr 2015
People say I’m loud,
I just wish my voice would carry with the wind and
into the ears of everybody who’s not asking to hear
what I’m talking about.
You didn’t invite yourself,
I invited you to hear me out.

You won’t hear me,
you’ll hear my object of choice
held high with two hands, to the sky, to the spray of your tear
gas in my eyes,
but be not blinded in sight as you are deaf to the ear,
loud and clear
you see my poison spilled on the mattress my body was mutilated on,
shoving out through my sweaty hands,
drip, drip, dripping onto the streets you defend with
your devices of destruction.

My words weight is less than a million dollars,
less than a tuition,
less than my fore father’s current colleagues
who are counting down days from suits to polo shoes,
making face on the last of their public legacy,
they don’t want a face like me writing slogans on their cities about ignorance and inconsistency.

I guess I’m not loud enough,
it takes more than volume to raise
The roof the roof the roof is on fire.
Save the pen, the paper, your voices and chairs,
your mattress and umbrellas that protect us
from your outrage at my outrageous voice
Silenced by a shield. Silenced by batons.
Silenced by political power without political people,
incorrect intentions, raging with rovers 100 feet above my head
exploding like an overfilled balloon.

You can beat my words down
but you can’t burn my furniture,
bigger than you, bolder than you, screaming louder
through a mouth it doesn’t even possess,
looking on the face of a choir, a whole choir,
asking to cure our disease.
I will hold my symbols of faith, ****, and freedom in my right hand
and swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the truth
until our protest has made a difference,
until my metal chairs have molded your thoughts
into signatures on a page of on a page of social justice.
It just is, bigger than you, bolder than you, louder than me,
Don’t test me, Test my furniture.
It will always be heard.

People say I'm loud.
I just wish my voice would carry into the ears
or everybody not asking to hear what I am talking about.
Well, I'm not talking,
My object speaks pretty loud.
Written under pen name Jason Red

Meant to be read aloud
Sep 2014 · 1.3k
Tried
Amanda Fletcher Sep 2014
It's not a failure that the sailor
sits at the sea line with a
seashell to his ear,
It calms the calamity of a
ship crashed ashore.
Will the parlor man feed us
anymore seasons of
steady hands afloat?
To sink sink of to sail
The Great Beyond,
you may borrow my boat.
Jul 2014 · 585
Close
Amanda Fletcher Jul 2014
Stain my naked body
With your blood,  clear.
It a not the first time I've absorbed your foreign nature,
I've been doing it for years
Through your body,  
Through your mouth
dripping with the liquid sensation of your lonely soul, grinding away the essence of physical feeling with physical feeling, hot, your hollowed out, it's purposefully misunderstood by you
But not by me.
I see inside your holes, I've always been able to,
And now, finally, your looking into mine.
Feb 2014 · 704
Familiar
Amanda Fletcher Feb 2014
I forgot what it's like to
be cold, freezing.
A blanket of sunshine wouldn't
be enough, I need more.

This is the same feeling,
This is the exact same feeling
that I breathe every year.
I always forget what it's like the be cold until it's winter and actually cold.
Feb 2014 · 491
Patience
Amanda Fletcher Feb 2014
The face of the cold looks a little different, a bit harsh.
The only smile that shows is one for hope of the sun
In time, in subtlety, both pale and tense.
Be sure to return the same smile back, give some common hope.
One day, yes, one day, the sun will brighten our faces,
I Promise.
Dec 2013 · 710
Choice is At Will
Amanda Fletcher Dec 2013
It's a choice to ambulate through the head and the heart
And out of this place all at once,
To ridden your riddle, relentless, like the rock that you are.
It's a choice, to plan the path that you pull us down, together,
leaving any help far back behind the hurdle.
It's a choice to end there, unattatched, in the thick of the thunder.
You chose my place, caught in the cold, cloudy and confused,
without a hope or  heart, a dream or destination.
It's your preference, not my choice.
Dec 2013 · 662
The Journalist
Amanda Fletcher Dec 2013
My mind to a journal
Thick paper, college ruled,
Everlasting and permanent.
You cannot burn these pressed pages,
They are not flammable,
They are more than surreal.
Very real, very loud.

Thoughts breathe out as they speak;
Word is out, word is heard.
Did you listen?
Nov 2013 · 912
3.99 a Tank
Amanda Fletcher Nov 2013
Can you see the space?
Or maybe you can feel it's weight.
The space we've filled and emptied
Like a tank of gasoline.

Beginning with nothing,
Clear space,
But on the drop of a dime
Filling it full,
So full the we spilled a couple drops on the way out.
Though they weren't wasted.
We filled it and we used it,
Burning, sparking,
Igniting the thrill with the easy push of a pedal,
Speeding through miles of adventure, of the road.

Then the car starts putting
Because the fumes in the space are all that's left after all this motion
And that's not enough to move forward anymore,
But only enough to dally on down the road, real slowly, a foot at a time.
The fumes are the most dangerous, the most toxic,
And it's weightlessly filling our space.

Soon, the fumes filling our space will burn,
And ultimately leave nothing behind,
Nothing, but an empty, motionless body.
No movement.
No vibrations.
No humming.
Just still.

So the question remains,
To fill it, to do it all over again,
To take care and refill when
Your Space,
When Your Tank
Falls half empty, just in good care,
Or not to fill it,
Our space, Our tank,
Ever again, Ever at all.
Leave it as an empty tank,
Leave it motionless,
Leave it cold,
Leave it's remains to rot and to mold.
Allow for it's eventual decay,
Like it was a degenerative disease of a vehicle all along.
That, my friend, my love, that is the question.
Jan 2013 · 1.1k
From Danger
Amanda Fletcher Jan 2013
I can feel the dust removing its self from these shelves,
It's in this illuminated corner that I left behind
A long time ago.
It's too late now, I already let it out of the bag.
And, Well, It's
Bigger and Better,
Stronger and Faster,
Headstrong and Inviting.
It's a dangerous spot, I know.
But I like the risque,
Dive in.
Dec 2012 · 1.1k
Cotton Doll
Amanda Fletcher Dec 2012
Augusten Burroghs once said,
"I, myself am entirely made of flaws,
Stitched together with good intentions."
He must feel just like me;
Paper fingers and wire joints,
A head stuffed full with cotton,
A doll on display for the world to
see, touch, and pity.
My mother tried all too hard,
she really did.
Dec 2012 · 2.7k
Estranged
Amanda Fletcher Dec 2012
I run a dotted line around this block,
traces of me are everywhere though they
are hidden under the footsteps of 100 feet
stamping my poor identity in to the ground.

C'mon, You know me.
You've seen my face many a times
I'm the one with the earbuds in
smokin' the cigarette
strolling through the park,
And the one with the white collar
sittin' at the bus stop
waitin' to start another Tuesday.
I'm the one with the fist in the air
and a joint between my lips
at the rock show.
You know me.

Maybe you haven't seen me
because you just look right through me
every time you walk past me.
I am just another face in your daily grind,
Not even a familiar smile or a friendly display
Just eyes, a mouth and a nose
placed in contemporary fashion
to give enough background color
for your masterpiece painting.
How thoughtful,
You're really using just one piece of me.
Dec 2012 · 1.2k
SSSay It
Amanda Fletcher Dec 2012
Sometimes all my head needs to hear
Are sensible stimulations to keep
My thirsty thoughts on track.

I am sorry for my sporadic sensations,
I should share them with the class.
But I can't keep constant cognition
Since the sunshine sparkles in my sights,
And an essence ever so eloquent evanesces from Elaine,
And Fred's fervid feeding fantasia flogs my guts.
I apologize for my lack of attention.
I know it doesn't adhere to your ability and awareness.

But bare with me babe, I have big benevolent things to say.
My waking words of wisdom wage a token to your time.
So I speak like significant social crime,
It seems so sensible, does it not?
Aye, let me idle your illness
And enlighten your English!
My thin ticking thoughts throw in all directions,
I'm positive something will appeal to your petition.

Just Listen and Learn!
All my alliteration has already altered your apperception.
Soon my silly sounds will cease.
I guarantee this gossip
Makes you giddy and not guilty.
So I thank you,
For listening to my labor.
It truly told a timeless tale.
Nov 2012 · 764
Truly, Existence is Real.
Amanda Fletcher Nov 2012
Truth is the state of being in accordance with reality.
Reality is the state of things as they actually exist.
Exist is to be real whether in material or spiritual.

The breath of my life is on the edge,
for I cannot define the truth any longer.
The words hear like babble in my ears,
since I cannot determine their actual reality.
The solidity of my skin is eroding,
because I cannot answer on the behalf of existence.
Nov 2012 · 538
Beautiful Things
Amanda Fletcher Nov 2012
I like the think about beautiful things, where ever they may be. Whether it's the flowers in the trees or the curve in your waist, it all makes me smile, and glow, and love all that is.
Nov 2012 · 915
This is Not a Show
Amanda Fletcher Nov 2012
The curve in your hips matches the rock in your heart,
your poor, sad, heart.
Though you're not sad, not at all.
You stand tall on long legs and smile for the camera,
the black, broken camera.

******,
why can't you flinch
or stop twinkling and glowing?
It's all show,
though you're not on stage honey,
the curtains are closed.

Take off your long lashes and your push-up bra,
please,
because the lights are off and the door is shut and the crowd is gone
and I'm here, just me, only me.

What is love?
Nov 2012 · 1.3k
Lightswitch
Amanda Fletcher Nov 2012
Jump.
     Well, no, actually.
            I don't want to jump.
I want to leap
and skip
and dance into a new sunrise.

It's time to turn off the light
and close the door,
Because it's really getting dark in here.

Close your mouth,
mute the babel,
bare your ears.
****** I'm speaking to you.
Not with my mouth,
with my heart
and my soul
not my brain.

These aren't feathered words.
This is my distress.

I'm sorry,
I'm going to turn off the light,
  close the door
    and dance.
Oct 2012 · 607
In Beauty
Amanda Fletcher Oct 2012
What Beauties lie in this world,
Mysterious,
Majestic,
Full of Awe.

They come along in opportune time.
They will find their place.
They will spread their joy,
which will soak into your skin and
lather your heart.
Together then
at peace.

It's something to be spoken
and risen into acknowledgment.
Our shielded eyes can see the
sun rise and
see the sun set with
Thank You, Most Love.
Oct 2012 · 848
Cold
Amanda Fletcher Oct 2012
And I almost forgot how it felt to be cold,
A touch of light reached my face
and brushed my bones.
The ash is raised off my skin
and I can feel the fever again,
God ****** it burns.

I'm injected with a heat
that serves to the cold.
It lights the way,
Softens the concrete,
Opens the Winter Sun.

Then the rain settles in,
Washing and cleansing
The long roads of their dirt
and grime.
My feet feel clean,
and ready.

Finally.
Oct 2012 · 775
Sabotage
Amanda Fletcher Oct 2012
This world is fragile.
Those hands aren't worthy.
Those words aren't just and
These actions don't suit.

Take it to the line.

You don't see the damage you do.
Your destruction continues to spread like the plague,
Burning our hopes and
Shaking our souls.

*Ouch
Oct 2012 · 794
Real
Amanda Fletcher Oct 2012
My hands perform as ghosts
As my eyes gaze through air.
Blue blood stands still,
Red cheeks fade grey.

I Am Not A Human Being

Can you touch me?
Can you feel me?
I couldn't feel your hands.
There is no oxygen,
And no movements,
And no being

Numb,
And Apathetic,
And Uninhabited.

I Am Not A Human Being

Where is that beautiful head?
For this mind is cast dull.
There is no wit,
There is no laugh,
And there is surely no tears.
Why, Dear Soul,
Why are my colors so raw?
Why is my heart so cold?
Why is this house so

Alone?
Sep 2012 · 1.5k
Naive
Amanda Fletcher Sep 2012
Young Blood
Wild Soul
Sweet Love

First Crawl

Full Heart
Candid Smile
Spirit Free

First Fall
Sep 2012 · 907
Sweet Bliss
Amanda Fletcher Sep 2012
It's hard not to stare when eyes command such glory,
and hands expose such a pleasing picture,
and hips sing such a festive song.

There's a sweet amour
for a smile that transcends any star.
For a soft wrinkle that deeds divine interest,
and the scar that rewards the conquer of turbulence.

How strong and worthy you are
and blissful and replete.
You are perfect,
You've earned everything.

Spin the world right round,
right round,
and please, teach me how to dance.
You made this path, so lead the way.

I will stare, and I will follow, and I will smile.
I will need you, but I will not love you.
Sep 2012 · 806
Stone
Amanda Fletcher Sep 2012
The sun rises,
The mind sets.
The laughter fades,
The tears stop,
The yelling calms,
The stress evaporates
And here, lies a blank, soulless, slate.

— The End —