The Tale of Constance ~ A Broken Ballard

 

In the depths of the misty moor
Stands a castle from ancient lore
Shrouded by the tangible night
Stars hang emitting crystal light

Barn owls chase shrews and mice to kill
Across the rolling Exmoor hills
The castle built from local stone
Is enchanted with the winds’ moan

This castle has no space for time
It’s the elements greatest crime
Centuries pass all unknown
Yet see how the ivy has grown

Laying on the dungeons cold floor
A girl holds no key for the door
Thrown in there by her misery
Now she’ll cry till she finds the key

History of blood and bandages
Haunt her dreams at the fringes
In the tower a prince is found
Loneliness is what keeps him bound

To the castle, to the tower
Every single hour, tastes sour
His past wisps like the dusty wind
What he did – could it be a sin?

Constance knows the prince will save her
From the fearsome dragon, he’ll lure
The beast away, break the bars
And take her to see the stars

As hills become veiled in darkness,
Alluring music is played
On a grand piano by the prince,
This keeps the princess hoping

Every note played silences the pain from the chains
Which bind her wrists and fists
They are manacles for imprisonment,
The lock, a gaping hole, there lies

A fire, restricted, silenced
Chains of spears burn through her thoughts
Dissolution runs through her veins
Her logic has crumbled and cracked 

With the rising of many suns
She hears him on the cobbled steps
She weeps, must have slain the dragon.
Infatuation at first sight

Their bourbon eyes interlock
Transfixed.
Forgetting time, in time
Biting her lip she smiles

He breaks the bars, but he does not
Take her to see the stars
She sees the verity before her
A chilling beautiful monster

No eyes does his face hold
Or anything she ever knew
Just a frozen heart with ivory fangs
And a lurid face torn apart

She sees the awful reality
And hears the testing truth
Never again will she be chained
And never again she be pained

Her silk screams are in unison
Echoing from the high tower
The monster crying in the night
Finishes her off in a fright

Beating her to her bones
Till she falls with a thud
He wants to shred her more
But only to see more blood

Her skeleton, abandoned
On the floor that now wears her flesh
And death she now wears
As if in blessed matrimony

Constance died of a broken heart
Her melancholia is always
In the castle, every hour.
While that miscreant of Mother Nature

Winds along the dusty tunnel,
His thoughts flicker back to Constance
And his eyes turn misty in a howl,
For she is now an angels’ hymn

 

Jenna Grabey © 2011. All Rights Reserved.

 

the_tower_by_feral_dragon_art-d56xz0v

Advertisements

Mistletoe

Ice and snow cover the Earth,
Nature says, ‘stay at home
By the fire of the hearth
Now is not the time to roam.’

So on this frosty Yuletide eve,
We burn the Cailleach Nollaig*
And song and laughter we weave
In the light of the Christmas Hag.

We feast and drink sweet mead,
As we relish on the sacrificed Earth
Whose now in death but we know will seed
Once awakened into rebirth.

Under Druid blessed mistletoe
We kiss as the Sun begins to grow,
Because on the deepest, darkest night
We celebrate the rebirth of light!

*The burning of the Cailleach was the ceremonial burning of the Winter Solstice. A piece of wood was carved roughly into the shape of an Old Crone to represent the Spirit of Winter. This was then placed into a fire to burn. As people gathered to watch they would be mindful of the symbolism, that was the ending of all the bad things that had happened the previous year and a fresh start for the next one. “Nollaig” in Scottish is used to refer to Christmas. In Irish it means “December”. “Cailleach” refers to the prototypical Crone figure and thus the old wise woman in Gaelic.

THE DRESDEN DOLLS

 

Amanda Palmer
Singer, writer and pianist, enjoys meditation, and was born in 1976.

Brian Viglione
Drummer, active supporter of the LGBT community and was born in 1979.

 

The Dresden Dolls cannot be categorised musically, yet terms such as “theatrical rock”, “punk cabaret” and “manic-musical” have been used, this unique band formed in 2001 in Boston. The duo Amanda and Brian first met on Halloween 2000, and this is when they became the Dresden Dolls.

Two years after forming they created their debut in September 2003 by 8ft records, the bands personal label, then the same album was chosen by Roadrunner records the following year, to be released in the U.S and Japan.

Once signed with Roadrunner records the band had sold-out concerts in four continents! Where they performed at the worlds’ biggest festivals such as Glastonbury, Coachella and Rockide. Then released their second album “Yes, Virginia” in the spring of 2006.

There was more excitement to come as they were awaiting their premiere in 2007, for the original musical they wrote at the prestigious American Repertory Theatre. A live performance of the musical was released onto DVD in the summer of 2007.

Dresden dolls got their band name from the Eastern town of Germany: Dresden, which is renowned for its china, porcelain and the dolls they make from these. Dresden is also associated with firebombing that took place there near the end of WWII which levelled the whole city and destroyed its architectural beauty.

The Dresden Dolls recapitulated for you, it is time to move forward. While sounding similar to Revue Noir in their music. The lyrics unique, original as you can imagine, or not imagine. Brian plays his drums relentlessly with Amanda on keyboard using every ounce of her soul, and together they create a psychotic collage of music, if you never listen to them you will never see these colours.

Amanda from the Dresden Dolls was in the newspaper- The Guardian, of the UK this February 2009, after the Roadrunner records told her, her video for the song “Leeds United” needed to be edited. Too explicit you may think? Making light of taboo topics? No, well not this time! Apparently her stomach “didn’t look quite flat enough”. Amanda did not take offence, because at the end of the day the record was receiving publicity, and she knew she looked hot!

Amanda and Brain are currently working on their own projects, Amanda on her solo career as a singer, writer and pianist, and Brain in his new band as a drummer, guitarist and singer. Amanda’s most recent project is taking place in Lexington High school where she is working with 20 students to create and perform the play “with a needle that sings in her heart”, a performance about Anne Frank.

This is not the end of the Dresden Dolls as for now they are just “expanding their empire”.
http://www.dresdendolls.com/ 

The Dresden Dolls

Bittersweet Madness

Bittersweet Madness

The dawn of the dark moon
Brings a bittersweet madness soon
Vampires screech and wolves howl
The scent coming from the cemetery is foul
The atmosphere is cold
And the night is bold
As bats whistle through night air
And immortals dance without a care
Their white skin sun hasn’t glanced upon
For centuries as they’ve listened to the nights’ song
And their cry for death encased in a howl
As they wander through forests having to prowl
Stars glisten in all their eyes
Which hold countless memories from the sky
And now sweet blood is drained
From the mortals, oh so afraid
The dawn of the hideous sun
Brings this bittersweet madness to an end
Vampires screech and wolfs howl
The scent coming from the cemetery is foul

© Jenna Grabey 2005. All Rights Reserved.

The Tale of Constance – A Broken Ballard

The Tale of Constance

In the depths of the misty moor
Stands a castle from ancient lore
Shrouded by the tangible night
Stars hang emitting crystal light

Barn owls chase shrews and mice to kill
Across the rolling Exmoor hills
The castle built from local stone
Is enchanted with the winds’ moan

This castle has no space for time
Is the elements greatest crime
Centuries pass all unknown
Yet see how the ivy has grown

Laying on the dungeons cold floor
A girl holds no key for the door
Thrown in there by her misery
Now she’ll cry till she finds the key

History of blood and bandages
Haunt her on her dream’s fringes.
In the tower a prince is found
Loneliness is what keeps him bound

To the castle, to the tower-
Every single hour, tastes sour
His past wisps like the dusty wind
What he did- could it be a sin?

For she knows the prince will save her
From the fearsome dragon, he’ll lure
The beast away, break the bars
And take her to see the stars

Hills become veiled in darkness,
With alluring music playing
From the prince the involved witness,
The songs keep the princess hoping

Silencing the pain from the chains
That bind her wrists and fists
Manacles for imprisonment
The lock, a gaping hole there lies

A fire, restricted, silenced
Chains of spears burn through her thoughts
Dissolution runs through her veins
Her logic has crumbled and cracked

To be continued …

© Jenna Leanne Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Narrative Poetry

The Tale of Constace
© Jenna Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

The Tale of Constance
An Extract

[…]

In the tower
A Prince resides
The one that will save her
To rectify his sins.
The voracious dragon will be defeated
Its fire crumbling at his shield
Then the princess will see stars
That break the bars of time.
… Restricted
… Silenced
Flashes of hope dash through her veins and thoughts
She does not know that her logic has
crumb-
led and
cracked
She
hears
him
on
cobb-
led
steps
Their bourbon eyes interlock
Infatuation
At first sight.

[…]

© Jenna Grabey 2012. All Rights Reserved.

 

Emilie Autumn – Live Review

Emilie Autumn’s show wows at the Marlboro

Trusted article source icon
Thursday, October 16, 2008

Profile image for This is NorthDevonThis is NorthDevon

Emilie Autumn

Marlboro Club, Ilfracombe

  1. <P>Emilie Autumn</P>

    Emilie Autumn

     

Review by Jenna Grabey

SLOWLY but surely the black curtain began to flicker, and in a flash behind a translucent screen a tall figure holding a pirate sword moved in time to the dramatic music, then stepped down and acknowledged the crowd.

One by one, the other Bloody Crumpets dressed in various corsets, long and short tattered skirts and stripy suspenders, created a mesmerising silhouette behind the screen, adding something quite new to the world of burlesque.

Emilie Autumn then joined the Bloody Crumpets on stage who were all moving like wonderland puppets, each with their individual character. Straight away we knew we were in for a fantastic night.

The Victorian Burlesque band created this gothic circus filled with violin shredding, and classical music pin-pricked with the sound of metal and the essence of distortion, now known as VictorianIndustrial.

We knew we had arrived at the circus when one of the crumpets walked in on stilts, so high that she could not stand up straight! This was neatly sliced with the band talking with the audience.

After the band had said ‘thank-you’ and their good-byes the crowd screamed for more. To everyone’s delight they came back on stage – they not only performed one more song but three.

I can say that they are amazing performers as well as musicians.

Book Review: Weirdo.Mosher.Freak

Weirdo. Mosher. Freak. By Catherine Smyth

(Taken from www.apex-magazine.co.uk/2011/03/weirdo-mosher-freak/)
By Jenna L. Grabey

(If only they’d stopped at name calling) by Catherine Smyth

This narrative account on the murder of Sophie Lancaster, the goth girl who was killed for the way she and her boyfriend dressed, gave me shivers from start to finish.

The S.O.P.H.I.E campaign was established to teach people to tolerate subcultures and campaign to extend the UK hate crime legislation to include ‘alternative subcultures’.

The book opens by telling the reader that if it weren’t for this book, newspaper articles and court papers would be the only literature on this horrific event. This is also Smyth’s attempt to find the truth of what happened that night: why three ambulances were called, why two went to the wrong place and why a journey that takes two minutes by car took an ambulance 14 minutes.

It is written by a journalist who became personally involved in the S.O.P.H.I.E campaign through her work. This ensures an emotive tone and prevents the telling from being too formal, however, at times, it does make you wonder how different the book would have been if told from another perspective.

Smyth provides plenty of background information, such as education, personality and anecdotes, on the attackers, defendants and victims, as well as the history of the town and its racist, violent and intolerant past stemming from the 70s.

The re-telling begins with Smyth receiving a phone call about an incident in Bacup Park; she goes on to describe how she discovered the attack of Sophie and Rob. We then go back in time to the night of the attack, where Smyth describes the unfolding of events beginning with Sophie and Rob visiting a friend through to the brutal primordial attack. From here the story is told in chronological order. We hear how Sophie’s death led to an accumulation of concerts, film festivals and peace marches in her honour.

Smyth describes how one of her most difficult interviews in her long journalistic career was with Sylvia Lancaster, Sophie’s mother. As Smyth became more personally involved, she describes Sophie’s funeral which she attended. This is followed by an account of the court trials including the attackers’ appeals for shorter sentences. Reliving the attack for ourselves we read the narrative transcript, of the phone calls made to the ambulance service, including background noises and voices.

Overall, it is amazing to find how one death caused such a ripple throughout the alternative community and sparked such a proliferation of fund-raising events and rightly so!

To find out more about the S.O.P.H.I.E campaign visit http://www.sophielancasterfoundation.com.