Between the Spaces of the Sheets, my Doll

D is for Dresden Dolls (A to Z Challenge)

It was only last year that I learned about the Dresden Dolls when I was introduced to Amanda Palmer. I started with Theatre is Evil, which intrigued me because I am a theatre person as you, Dear Readers are probably well aware (if you have followed my blog at all). Amanda has a quite distinct sound, loud, garish, beautiful, unique, true, highly passionate.

I say this because now that I am completely enamoured by Amanda and her music. I am enamoured with her because she is free. She is unafraid, even if she is afraid, she still pushed forward with her life and passions. She is an amazing person, musician, singer, songwriter, and writer. And, when I find people who fit into this category of amazing and awesome people who are full of inspiration and strength, I want to know more about them. Whether it is listening to more of their music, read more of their books. Amanda writes about truth, strength, weakness, and love (just a handful of things that the person that Amanda Palmer is). She is a rare soul that spreads beauty and love in a world where sometime love is sorely lacking.

This is what today is about, the Dresden Dolls. They are a duo whom I am only vaguely aware of. I don't even know 5 songs by them. This is Amanda Palmer before I truly learned about her and her music. I have searched the internet for video to listen to and at least get an rough idea of what the Dolls are. They lie somewhere between Steam Powered Giraffe, Cabaret, and Punk. That might not be completely right, but it's what I cam come up with at 9:42 pm EST on a Saturday April 4th, the day before Easter.

Also, I think the Dolls and Amanda as herself make a nice topic for today NaPoWriMo poem. Today's topic is: and now for today’s prompt (optional, as always). Love poems are a staple of the poetry scene. It’s pretty hard to be a poet and not write a few – or a dozen – or maybe six books’ worth. But because so many love poems have been written, there are lots of clichés. Fill your poems with robins and hearts and flowers, and you’ll sound more like a greeting card than a bard. So today, I challenge you to write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows. And if you’re not in the mood for love? Well, the flip-side of the love poem – the break-up poem – is another staple of the poet’s repertoire. If that’s more your speed at present, try writing one of those, but again, avoid thunder, rain, and lines beginning with a plaintive “why”? Try to write a poem that expresses the feeling of love or lovelorn-ness without the traditional trappings you associate with the subject matter.

There are so many love poem written, so why not write a "loveless" poem (or break-up poem). When I think loveless, (this after having watched a number of Dolls and Amanda Palmer videos I found where I want to go with this topic) I think of this, something that has ceased to create love, but is not passionless. The Bed Song, definitely sparked something. Lit a fuse under my muse, if you will. It is actually quite passionate about the lack of passion in a relationship. Being loveless doesn't mean you lack passion. You just don't have the love (either for your spouse/significant other, your job, your life, etc.).

I have been trying for the last hour to write a poem and doing it the wrong way. That NEVER works and I don't think it works for songwriting either. You write from your passion. I write poems. I write good ones and bad ones. And today, I think, Dear Readers is a good poem. And because it is good I will dedicate it to Amanda Palmer. Why? Because, Dammit!! Dedicate it to her for making so much good in the world music and art.

Here, Dear Readers, is my little good. A Pantoum, a Malaysian style that uses repetition and sounds really good when spoken allow.

Prompt: Loveless / and "The Bed Song"

Between the Spaces of the Sheets

What do you see, lying there?

Knowing that the truth has bled out

and the lacking has made you blind

to the reality that is leftover.

Knowing that the truth has bled out

and I am still here typing away

to the reality that is leftover,

after what you gave me has been lost.

And I am still here typing away.

The words are all that is left

after what you gave me has been lost

and I cannot even cry anymore.

The words are all that is left,

when there is space between

and I cannot cry anymore

in the vastly empty bed.

When there is space between

the lacking has has made you blind

in the vastly empty bed,

what do you see, lying there?