I take out a newspaper
And I read it on my porch
My porch consists of a deck chair and a paddock
My back to my slanting house

I read articles on the yellowing page
And I read about how the world
Has gone to the dogs
It seems that all hath lost their minds

In my solace, without companionship,
I wonder if I have lost my mind too
Its been so very long since I have had
To make tea for someone

I believe the last had been my brother
Now I am the youngest sole
Of brothers three
Here on my farm,
I am free

By they near
And they are dear
To me their baby brother
That’s why I keep them
Near and dear
To me

Old stories turned to dust and ash
Not even a legend, not even a myth
After all, dead men tell no tales
Especially not about Inglewood convicts
Especially not when you put poison numb
In their tea

Some like it violent
Insatiable in every sense
Brutal and arousing
Bruises and bitemarks
That draw blood
A delight, red and raw
Teeth marks sinking into flesh

Miss Mass ******
And her new boyfriend
Mister Mysterious
Are in love
Shiny and new
Like the first drop
From a finger pricked
On a cerated knife

But it was too much too soon
Twisted young love asphyxiates
In rooms without privacy
Hitting a new a high
Pointed teeth and fanged smiles
Cigarette drags on moonless nights
*** and death intertwined
There is lust after life

Together forever
Side by side: six feet under
Unnatural and unlawful
It was a night to dismember
A funerary wedding
His and hers in a hearse
Rattling tins and dangling bones
Just married written in a scarlet hue
That is not ink

I’m in love with the black leather lily
Sequin rose: she was looking so good
That rock’n’roll woman
Singing on a countryside stage
Doused in pink and blue light

I’m once bitten
But twice aggressive
I’m hungry and I’m craving
I don’t have a record
Of either the rock’n’roll
Or cell block persuasions
But I’ll be doing my time
Somewhere soon

Love bites on my neck
Imaginary and sensual
I know what I want
And I know how to get it
But I can’t seem to kick myself off
And there’s no one who clicks
And there’s no one who would meet
My tongue with their tongue
Let alone my voice, with their notes

I’m looking for something
I wouldn’t call it rare
But I’m questioning the scarcity
I want something stimulating
Intellectually and sexually
By the look in your eye
So clueless and vacant
I know that I’m not going to find it
Any time soon

There’s a feeling that I’m chasing
The humming and the strumming
Of a sanctified guitar
And the lips of a poet
Which aren’t mine
It’s electric and eclectic
A bohemian mind
But I’m stuck in suburbia

Lipstick swatches
On the back of my hand
A trio of matte hues
But the one I wear
With a virginal kiss
The colour’s called
Girl next door
But I haven’t been
The girl next door for a while now

I carry a vial of ashes
As a pendant over my heart
Sometimes, the glass breaks
And it smears all over my art
Thus, I force myself to remember
The hatred turned into a lamentable ember

The palms of my hands ache
And I kneel in fragments of glass
Of my own creation
I fumble with the ashes scattered
I grab at it and the soil
Which all slips through my fingertips

I am a damnable, hateful person
And I carry a requiem note
Fraught with envy in my voice
I cannot see where I shall go
I have no light upon my path
But I can see from whence I came

A placid path
That has kept me safe
From the thorns and bramble of life
But alas, now I know grief
And pity is my closest companion
In the discrete absence of those
Whom I could call a true friend

However, though I know
This path, yellow brick,
I do not know where it leads
But I cannot move on
There is glass and ash on my path
And it all comes into darkness,
Like thread comes through a needle

I cry out
Again and again
My hands bleed
As I scrabble at the ground
And I know it punishment
For keeping the ashes of hatred
Rather than the petals of love
Or, perhaps, the tears of sorrow

There are a good many things
I could have chosen to keep
In the vile vial
I wear as a pendant to distort
My dear and precious heart,
So foolish and jealous

But, unfortunately,
It is ash in my heart
Ash in my head
And, finally, ash on my path
Sullying the joyful, sunshine yellow path
That leads me, the thread, the through the needle
Should I finally rise to my feet and the occasion
And choose to tread on broken glass
And search my surroundings
For something else to keep in my tender vile

Do you remember,
When we ran the world?
We were the king and queen
Of a dominion, so big and true,
The central of which was a eucalypt stump
Guarded by a broken, barbed wire fence

Do you remember,
When we thought
We’d never get older
And we’d never grow apart
Only closer?

I miss those halcyon days
Afternoons and mornings
Under a great blue sky
Back when we ran the world
Because the world we always knew
Was so small and tiny
Just like our minds and bodies

Our problems seem so close
And these youthful days seem so far away
But I remember them so dearly
With every breath of gust carrying
The pure scent of fresh mown grass
And with every taste of orange juice
I hope you cherish them as well
Because they mean the world to me

And I still dream of these days
Both waking and through the night
Where I can live untroubled once more
By your side, hand in hand
Against the villainy of getting older
Even though it’s the inevitable fate

All crowns rust in the unavoidable years
Which come and go
With changes unprecedented
But embraced with an adult acceptance
Because we aren’t children anymore
We aren’t in a playground dominion
Along a beaten path and in the shade

Our reign is over, and I no longer know
The faces who have taken our places
But I hope you know
I thank you for the memories
They were so sweet and innocent
And even as we got older
And our feelings grew stranger,
I believe we’ll always have our days
As kings and queens
In our little-big dominion
So long as we always remember

I walk to the places
We never went with each other
I talk about the things
I never talked about with you
I feast without you by my side
Never once thinking of you
Until now

Ne’er before had mortality
Seemed so bleak and grim
Until I laid upon
Not your visage; pale and fair
But your casket bedecked with petals
Thinking about the light
Cast out to where your future should have been
Instead of eight feet underground

I bluster
As I try to understand
The change of fate
The whims and cruelties
Of people I don’t know
Even you

The one whom I cried for
And still continue to cry for
Because I cannot articulate
How two lovers perish
In such fateful wreckage

I think of from where I had come
And from where I must go
Periphery, you were
Periphery, you remain
Except when tears line my eyes
As I realise that the future
Isn’t as predictable as I thought

I will never hold your baby
In my arms
And you will never hold mine
But that is the domestic writing
Thinking about the future
So cloudy and grey
Even when I hold onto roses so stiffly

Roses that I must,
I am afraid,
Lay at your head and feet
Whilst you sleep within the earth
And will never take breath again
Not to sing or laugh
Like you did when we were children

When we still went to the same places
And still talked about the same things
And ate next to one another
Never thinking
The future would quite be like this
Never thinking we would be caught
In the fray of fate as things turn out
So wrong and so sad

But I continue to think of things
I could have said when you were alive
When I didn’t cherish your presence
Because memories are so easily
Made and forgotten
But please take them all
And I will continue to give
All these unspoken words you
In flower bouquets and poetry

For that is all I have
To remember you by,
My dear ailurophobe
Named grace twice
Fitting as you feel twice buried
So, I bid you farewell
With this to part us
But you will never leave my thoughts
Even as I stray along the path
And am subject to fates we never imagined

We’re out front of my house,
In the front seat of your car,
It kind of stinks in here but it smells like you
So, I don’t mind
You turn on some music
And we laugh because it’s the dodgiest track

The radio screams
My heart flutters
Heavy metal bought my love
We don’t have long hair but we’re headbanging anyway
I’m giddy from my toes to the tip of my nose

People say you’re bit of an *******
****, I’m one of them who says that
But I don’t care
My friend don’t like you
My parents adore you
Marry the boy, you marry his family

I can’t help but think it’s love
When the thought of you
Comforts me even when my best friend ain’t there
And she hasn’t been there for yonks
But what we’ve got is hard as rocks

Cloudy afternoon in a rural little street
Should’ve told you then
Better a rejection than a what-if
But I didn’t speak my mind
Only let you tease me
I wonder what could’ve happened
If I had had the courage
To take my word upon my tongue
And press it onto your mouth

Dear First Star I See Tonight,
I have a wish to make upon your grace
You are of plasma and light
Burning, dying
Yet you listen to my materialistic lying

In truth, the wish I would like to beg of you
Is far more selfless
Or at least I hope it is

Is it too much to ask?
Of you, divine being in the sky?
Is it too much to ask?
Of them, of flesh and life

I want true companions
Through and through
Ages of peace
Ages of war
People to fight for
People to fight with
Where we meet each other’s edges softly
And click
Like puzzle pieces
Smaller components
To a larger whole

We’ll laugh
And cry
But it’ll be the sweetest bliss
For we were all made for each other
The way our atoms draw each other in
We’re all made from the same stardust
Trying to reignite the gorgeous flames we once had
Soul mates the way only soul mates can be

But is it too much to ask?
I must ask for it grows burdensome on my lonely heart
Which still strives in search of the other part
My wish that I send to the skies
Is a wish of true friendship;
Nothing more
Nothing less than the best
...That’s selfish, isn’t it?

Dear first star I see tonight
I desire no grant of materialism
I just want to be emotionally catered for
To the utmost perfection
Which is why, I wish to befriend you, dearest First Star I See Tonight

Aren’t you lonely?
Like me?
So, how about it?
Would you like to be my friend, oh dearest First Star I See Tonight?

You were drunk
I was sober
The night was nearly over
When you pulled me closer
My heart had sunk

I was tired
You were wired
With feelings you didn’t understand
You were living a dream
I was living a nightmare
I glanced at my phone
And it was nearly two-thirty

You look in my eyes
I looked at your lips
I could smell the scent of your lipstick
Bright, vivid, scarlet
In the full colouring of your lips, I could sense your glory
In the absence of my own
Upon your lips, I could almost kiss you

Your eyes were ever so blue
But ever so out of focus
You were drunk
I was sober
But you got me intoxicated just by whispering sweet nothings
Into my ears upon a head so heavy with loneliness and doubt
Your words were like the cruisers you had been drinking

I don’t understand how you can see such goodness in me
When my own faith has left me
Abandoned by a growing cynicism
Broken and torn down by myself
At the instructions of others

Your fingers brush the side of my head
A curl of my hair falls out of place so you push it back
You smile
You laugh
I smile
I swoon

How sweet it must be
To be loved by a poet
Beauty and laughter immortalised
In honeyed prose
For those
Whom you will not know
Whom you will not meet
Only those whom you will dream of
Only those who will sigh over
Your grace, your love
From the honeyed mouth
Of the poet who had chosen you
As their muse

How sour it must be
To be hated by a poet
Ugliness and rage immortalised
In destroyed prose
For those
Whom you will know
Who you will meet
Only those who will see you
Only those who will cry over
Your disdain, your wrath
From the dry mouth
Of the poet who had chosen you
As their muses

The pantheon of muses
The poet possesses
Will never reveal themselves to the reader
But the reader will already know the glory and infamy
Of the muses the poet possesses
The lovers
Perfection personified
Only known to the unconscious mind
With faces unknown
The enemies
Imps of imperfection
Already known to the waking realm
With more faces than that which can be counted

How bitter it must be
To be a poet
Glorifying and horrifying mistakes
In quickened prose
For those
Whom you love
Whom you hate
Only those who will read of you
Only those who will ignore you
My emotions, my consequences
From the careless mouths
Of the ones who had chosen the poet
As their acquaintance

Dearest Ophelia:
Daughter of the murdered man
Sister of the murdered man
Lover the man who murdered your men
This is an ode to your fictitious life

Ophelia, my love, you are divine
Oceanic and loving, you are the blessed petals
Of a plucked flower in hopes of a fortune

Irrational, eccentric,
Your whims
Become the whims of others

The ickle darling
Who needs help most
Dying a death so jarring

Sinking, sinking, thinking
Into the murky depths unknown
By the Queen’s words not shown

By rue,
By rosemary,
By fennel,
By *****,
By columbine,

By regret,
By remembrance,
By foolishness, flattery, and adultery,
By love,
By faith and hope

Her judgement most bitter-hearted
Her judgement most secretive and dry
Her judgement most sweet-scented

Lost to a fit of laughter
By the maiden’s wit
Her act comes to a close
With mermaid-like prose

I cherish the music
Phantasms in the audio
The smell and the touch
When it comes to you
Dear Music Man
You leave me with a musical mania

Come on, Music Man
Take me by the hand
Honey, you’re so electric
You should come with a warning
Danger: high voltage

When we’re together
It feels like forever
We’ve got a live-wire energy
An electric sort of synergy
You’re the melody
I’m the lyrics
Melding together
The perfect composition

Good music on the score
Vibrations coming up through the floor
Our ***** touches will leave us sore
And wanting more

When your hands are on your guitar
I want them on my back
I want them on my hips
And I want your lips on my lips
And I want your voice in my bones
Shaking me
Shaking me
Shaking me

Men like you
Are admittedly a dime a dozen
But like a jukebox
I’d put a dime in you
Because I love listening
To your voice
It’s like a smooth, sustained cello line
A bass line dripping with warmth
Dropping in my heart

I was lying on my bed
Thoughts of you stuck in my head
When it’s heavy as lead
I know what you’ve said

And what you’ve sung
Will get me through
The nights
And the mornings
Where dreams
Thicken the loneliness
Of when you aren’t there
Or when anyone ain’t there
Just the slowly strangulating air
Dealt by hands
Belonging to a flutist
With the deeds of a duellist
Who makes me battle

Against the song I sing
Against the song I want to sing
Against the musical mania
Against the sing you sing
Against the song you want to sing
Against the Music Man

Walking through cluttered art
A placid pace through a placid place
A green yard gone red with rust
Metal sculptures
Giant windmills
Broken, missing pieces
Wire birds twisted around walls
Bent out of shape
Graffitied and damaged
Stop signs

A farmyard
By memories of childhood
Pleasant associations
Of family and fortune
Where strangers become friends
Friends unknown
I meet the sunken eyes of my Grandfather
Over a table decked with games and festivities

A depressed omen
That hails wisdom
From years gone by
And years that will pass
Where experience
Shall meet practice

In games that doth test
Character and adversity protest
Where seeking advice
Bends the shape
Of already broken shapes
Inhumane aspect
Of people most suspect

Success and favours
Changing clothes
Changing personas
To meet the ever-changing situation
In the journey of my dreams
In the journey of my lives
I will overcome the challenge
And take my claim
Of success
And favours
My good fortune
Through
Divination of divine dreams

I caught her eye
Through her heart-shaped Gucci sunglasses
Cherry red lips
And just as sweet-smelling,
She smiled

With scarlet nails,
Upon a slender and soft hand
She beckoned me
I was nervous
She was gorgeous

One hand on a wiry steering wheel
Belonging to a pastel coloured Chevrolet
I leaned in through the lowered window
She smiled
Her other hand carded through
A magenta mop of messy hair
She laughed

She was a woman
Wet and wild
With a mischievous smile
And a lilt in her voice,
She asked me for my name and number
I gave her a lot more than that

The ocean’s roar
Against a dodgy seaside town
She took me for a ride
And what a ride it was
Seeing the sights
Rolling on a road
Through places neither of us know
The engine purrs
And so, does she
As she laces one arm across my shoulders
From the driver’s seat
My heart skips a beat

We holed up in a motel
She had bought the room
Days ago
With her Daddy’s credit card
Her Chevrolet parked out front
Our room
Her room
Amid plasticky ferns
And stinking asphalt
Under a hazy summer cloud

Vintage dresses in her closet
Perfume bottles
Glistening on her drawers
Elegant scents
In an inelegant room
Out the window
Encased in nautical décor
I could glimpse the sea and sand
I ran my fingers
On the edge of her bedside table
She ran her fingers
Along the edge of my spine

The bed bounced
Beneath our weight
Touching, whispering
Clothes on the floor
I couldn’t have wanted more
For she was
All for me
A first like none other

She was gorgeous
A dreamy goddess
I did see go
In a pastel pink Chevrolet
Wearing Gucci glasses
And an impish smile
On cherry cola flavoured lips
Above eyes
Which were bright
Like swirling, burning stars
A vivacious light
To count my blessings
And amorous bruising by

Death was in her lungs
And it was imminent
Every *******, gulping breath she took
Came with a bedside beg
Of release

I couldn’t stay
I couldn’t watch
I’m a coward
A traitor to the blood
In my veins
So alive, so healthy
To the blood
I received from her

A kiss upon her forehead
Her darkened skin
Turned to paper
Sickeningly soft
To my rough lips

Her suffering
Not dulled
By anything
Spirituality, science
People or family

A painful, sputtering sleep
In a clinical room
By the murky sun’s graceless light
On a cloudy afternoon

I forgot to say
I love you
But words aren’t enough
Words are meaningless
It is our actions
Which doth divine
Our true intentions
Our true emotions
And mine
Reveal only cruelty
And the absence of courage

Sweet sixteen and never been kissed
Sweet seventeen and never been kissed
Effervescent eighteen and never been kissed
Nearly numinous nineteen and never been kissed

Upon a hallowed eve
Night of the sweltering, wintry heat
Night of the frigid, summery cool
Words fell out of my mouth

Gratefulness,
Thankfulness,
Feelings,
Memories,
Words
Trut­hfully
I no longer recall
In the morning after

It was…
An experience
Neither good
Nor bad
No more, no less
Perhaps one day something grand
Perhaps one day something insignificant

One ought to cherish
The flattery
Of a genuine girl
And one ought to cherish
The honour
The lovesick
Lovestruck
Lunacy
Of a genuine girl
Perhaps once in love
But not anymore
Not now
Not with the new year
So close

Sipping
Assorted sins and vices
Whiskey, gin, brandy:
Whatever tastes good
Tastes alive in my mouth; like a cemetery

Watching
The prismatic shadows
Of the moon
Through stained glass
Stained like tears on our cheeks

Hey there, my love,
How did we come to this place?
And this time?
You are trying to understand
I told you
Something grave

Death of a brother
Death of a bond
And the responsibility
Lies in my lie

I hadn’t meant to hurt you
Much like alcohol
Numbs the mind
I wanted to
Numb your heart

I had my fortune told
By a drunk girl
At a masquerade ball
She stank of sweet liquors
And spoke even sweeter
Dulcet divinity
In her blood red lips

Dreams which leave me breathless
And ******
But give me ideas
To push myself beyond
The world of the living
And immortalise my written words
Etch them on side walks
With pink and gold stars

Bored with a Ouija board
Tarot card symbolism drawn
On the back of a pizza box
Spirits and stars
Illuminate secret desires
In the constellations of my mind
And it comes with such strange musings
Penned in a book of shadows

Café crème cigars
Capnomancy on a lazy lakeside
Notebooks and noteworthy slothfulness
Swirls and curls in an azure sky
Modern mythology was thick in the air
I could feel the smile
Of the sun

Little lover on a hallowed eve
No miraculous kiss
Just words that meant something
But mean nothing now
Outside of a delayed fantasy
To tell wistful stories of

Fragile city streets
Cluttered with contemporary art
And gorgeous people
From all walks of life
Walking through mine
They seem to transient
For my liking
Compared to the dusty highways
That I’m used to worshipping the world at

Rock and roll radio
Two-dollar earrings
And fourteen-dollar sunglasses
Denim jacket bought expensive
With patches bought cheap
Licence plates dated from the eighties
And stated from the States of America
Stud the walls of a small-time pub
Graffiti on the bricks
Poetry and lyrics is how I get my kicks

I can feel it in the hot air
In the summer sun
Where I bask in imagined limelight
Just like I felt glory in her lips
And glory in his music
And glory in those cards
I can feel it within myself
My glory
My story
And it is a claim I shall take
It is my destiny

The last time I was here
It had been free drinks on the house
It had been a celebration
A taunt
This was how far we’ve come
This is how far we have yet to go

You can’t catch us
For we’re having too much fun
Flirting, talking, chatting
Ideas and hopes
For this year
And the year it had been

It’s different now
Solemn without solace
The haphazard roof
Over haphazard concrete
Where music blasts
And is not played
Where thoughts are delayed

For thoughts bring tears
And tears bring pity
I can’t stand it
The twilight air
Suffocates me
As people stop
And stare

I want to stay
I want to go
I want to live another day
And I want to know
What is beyond the boundary

Let’s have a party
In a building turned funerary
Barbed wire fences
And railroad tracks
Life is seen between cracks
I’ve come so far
And yet I haven’t progressed at all

A waxing crescent moon,
Canescent, anxious light
Illuminates the eerie sky
Free from shadow, free from stars
But not free from sin
This is the realm of illusory serenity
Under celestial blessing
I walk the path I’ve always known

A single road
A lonely road
Gravel cuts the underside
Of my aching feet
As I march under moonlight
So that I may
Taste the sweet and sour
The good and the bad
The grief
And the peace

Fitful rest in the place of slumber
A jolted start
Lulled by darkness
It was too early
It was too late
The night was dark
Then, I heard it in the distance:
An unidentified voice

Sweet, silver song sung
Solitude in solemn shadow
I could not identify the singer
Neither male nor female

Peculiar voice in a peculiar morning
An hour past midnight
I did hear the song
And then something caught my fear
I hath been taken by the ear

Were they a Siren of a tarred river
Flowing through a small town
Tempting me to the street
And turn me into a meal sweet
Or perhaps a Banshee
Irish crying, sobbing,
Mistaken for a singer
When they are a harbinger

Distant, faint,
And indescribable
Words and babble
But a song nonetheless
But a lullaby nonetheless

The stars may have names
Past their prime
Living in a different time
Living in a world
Different to my own
Yet intrinsically the same
A human experience
Fabricated in existence
Of melodies and zodiacs
The constellations, the coincidences
Entropy in the skies

Awed by the distance
Between myself and theme
I feel so small and insignificant
I could cross the lands
I could cross the seas
And yet
I would not be able to cross the heavens

I follow the starlight
Until it turns lime
Until the stars turn to stone
And I can follow them on a boardwalk
All the way to the big top

And the young old gods
Who live under the big top
Of sloth and ***
Prayed to by their fans
For their conflated talents
We call them
Stars

And they are called stars for a reason
Sparkling, dazzling
Intangible, infallible
Humanity is its own sort of chaos
Its own sort of entropy
Constellations and mythologies
But not for millions
But not for millennia
But for decades
But for days

Until mortality meets immortality
Death doesn't discriminate
But immortality
Is very selective
It will elect
Only the best
Only the classics

Just like the stars
Which sprawl and scatter
Through the sublime heavens
With a meek tongue
I sing
A song
Not sung
My own
Written

Most men tango with a rose on tongue
But not he
He chewed the thorned stem of dynamite

Most women sit like a honey ***
But not she
She swallowed the poison of bleach

I wanted to tell him to stop
I wanted to tell her to stop
I wanted to tell them all to stop

Many people question
The legitimacy
Of my tastes

Cigarettes
And alcohol
I hate them very much

Ask anyone
Ask him
Ask her

I’m scared
And yet I’m fearless
Contradictions wrapped up in values

I hold beliefs
Close to my heart
And close to my mouth

Pen in hand
Hatred in mouth
I write, I speak

Today I saw a girl
She was walking
On a residential street
She looked out of place
But I knew her face
It’s a small town
So, of course, I knew her face
Of course, I know her name
She’s the Jones girl

She’s a teenager
I don’t know what she was doing
Probably doing whatever it is
Teenagers do
On a Sunday afternoon
In a small town

Platinum white hair
Piercings up her ear
Future up in the air
Scene and emo wristbands
And a graphic tee
Probably not from Hot Topic
Because Hot Topic ain’t so hot here

Here’s the thing
She’d be the It Girl
If it weren’t for her acne
If it weren’t for her height
If it weren’t for her weight
If it weren’t for her interests
If it weren’t for her hobbies
If it weren’t for everything about her
But her name
And her age

She deserves better
I don’t like her
Not personally
But she does deserve better
She deserves the city streets
There, and only there,
Can she can be who she wants to be

And if she can’t?
Then there’s no place I want to be
Not one at all
Because I want to be
Where she,
Where we all can be,
Who we want to be

If I had a car
I would want a’68 Ford Country Sedan
Big, huge, beastly
A masculine power fantasy

If I had a motorcycle
My fishnet legs would look so hot
Draped either side of its seat
And a highway to myself

If I had boat
I could go out
And I could float
On the water, on the lake

If I had a car,
If I had a motorcycle,
If I had a boat,
I would have a lot and lot and lot of debt

With sorrow on my brow
And simpering, whimpering lips
I have a question in my weak voice
Breathing so brittle, like bird bones
I am the mockingbird with a broken wing
Crying out; dying to sing

In highlands abandoned
Where the missing people do not visit
Wasted places decorated jagged glass
Grey and brown plains without end
There was once a paradise in this world
However, time changes all but this girl

Looking back to this realm I hailed from
Eyes glazing over with nostalgia
My heart breaks regarding the bitter fondness
I just want to go back to my verdant haven
Because I remember the olden days
And all halcyon, lackadaisical haze

In the glittering past
So mysterious and unreal
The choices which have led to the present
And, consequently, the bitter and quivering
Question in my fragile voice
Where do the kindred spirits live?

Because I used to know
But they’ve moved on
These precious, flickering lights
For whom I call and call for
For whom I yearn for the return of

Eve ate the untouchable apple
And was made to leave Eden
With Adam, beside her, and his child

Persephone ate the pomegranate
And was made to stay in Styx
With Hades as her husband

To stay or to leave,
I want a man to eat fruit with,
As lovers, loyal and sublime

“Oh, what a wonderful wedding,”
Croons my best friend from across the table
“Yes, what a wonderful wedding,”
Swoons her worst enemy, agreeing,
Then, in unison strains, they both nod, decisive,
“Oh, yes, but what a shame,”
I blink, intrigued by the news ‘bout to break,
All whilst stabbing a fork at cake.
“The pure bride in white is a *****.”
They say, voices cacophonic and melodic,
“Her husband isn’t the one,
The one she hasn’t met yet,”
I sit between them, innocent,
Now utterly unengaged to the conversation,
Eating fondant; confounded; I don’t even know
Who the pure ***** bride in white is

Mr White Rabbit
Take me down
To where the grass is greener
And the Queens are meaner
I'll follow you anywhere
Down that Rabbit Hole

Cerulean skirts and white lace petticoats
I pout and I cry
I sulk and I lie
Eat me, drink me
I don't know what to think
But I do think
That I pout and sulk and cry and lie
Too much

Pour me a drink
Tea in a teacup
Quibbles wrought in mercury
Perhaps not retrograde
But perhaps a renegade

I believe in fairy tales
I believe in tall tales
I believe in animal entrails
I believe, I believe, I believe
In magic and in mythology

Wonderland, oh, Wonderland
Take me to Wonderland
Let me wander through
The Land of Wonderland
Come with me
Come down the Rabbit Hole