"Here was a new generation, shouting the old cries, learning the old creeds, through a revery of long days and nights; destined finally to go out into that ***** gray turmoil to follow love and pride, a new generation dedicated  more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken..."

"I know myself," he cried, "but that is all."

Rumpelstiltskin caught the clap
Miss Muffet got a slap
Breadcrumbs leading to the gap,
Indicated on Grimm’s map.
The Magic mirror’s spewing crap
Helping the Huntsman continually fap.

The Third Little Pig, stripped of his red wig.
Booked a new gig, on Cinderella’s oil rig.

Snow White fell back asleep.
Creepy dwarves tentatively creep
The Big Bad Wolf’s known to weep.
Staring regretfully at the flock of Lil Bo-Peep.
Mother Goose’s gone years without a peep.
Recognizing that royalties shouldn’t come cheap.

Humpty Dumpty forgot the wall, forewarned of the inevitable fall.
Beauty left Beast at the mall, said kind words, but never did call.

A collection of saliva sits on the ground.
The substance heaped in a short little mound.
Attention drawn from all around.
As the boy sits in clothes from the lost and found.

        Covered in *****
                    A pant soaked burden
A question asked during learnin’
                                                  The answer being Martin Van Buren

                   Told he shouldn’t be in school
              By those glaringly cruel.
          Constantly made to seem the fool.
Leading to an increase in the pouring drool.

                       His eyes sit at an angle.
              Bulging out as if enduring a quick strangle.
       Caught in the shine of a young girl’s bangle.
He twists his hair into a locked tangle.

The girl bats an eye.
                                 His mouth goes dry.

A boy flicks a small paper ball.
     It sits in the air to pivot and stall.
                                Lands inaccurately out in the hall
                                              The teacher seizes it bracing up against the wall.

Unfolds the note,
        And reads what he wrote.

It held a cruel remark.
About handicap spaces and keeping him for the sake of a quick park.

The boy didn’t wish he were dead.
                Nor was he agonized by the insult recently said.
       The remark went right over his head,
    He was stuck thinking about how sympathy only comes to those who have bled.

Lost in the dim light of your thoughts
A man trips
The glow slowly rots
Clarity slips

A black tar drips from the roof
The man's emotions run aloof.
Periodically it erodes.
In a hailstorm of biblical toads.

Trapped in a point of stasis
The man falls
Up against a wall he braces
The dim light calls

He hears the panic in a billion voices
Distinguishing each of their choices
Runs towards the noise
And blindly acknowledges the form with a sense of poise.

Broken damnations in the form of prayer.
Handicapped nation known to glare.
Captured by an enraptured stare.
The peering eyes fulfilling a dare.

Scripture spoken in an illiterate tongue.
An angelic chorus line demonically sung.
Flying fragments of a cancerous lung.
Left heaped in a pile of excommunicated dung.

The wishful watch, with rose-colored eyes.
Their habits accompanied by universal despise.
Made to long for their own demise.
The result of some rather heinous lies.

Became fractured with a loss of vision
Despair followed, relieved of decision.
Left aimless in an act of derision.
The root being your basic long division.

Slober knocked back to a cadence measure.
Turning in tune with the illusion of leisure.
Stand at fault, holding the gun.
Cryptic followings at the point of a pun.
Deny and defile the logic of man.
Floating backwards catching a cancerous tan.
Indescency accepted as common form
The policies for which are quick to swarm.
Holdings in life, seem to diminish.
Removed suddenly of their veenered finish.
Left aside as needless want
A proxy value for those too gaunt.
Picked up again by mimicing lepers,
Balling their eyes out as communication severs.
Catching a reflection in the glint of an eye.
Turning quickly, as not to pry.
Beholden, clearly, to a bare ideal.
Something tangible to which one would kneel.
Beckoned forth in a fleeting glimpse.
The man has not been heard from since.

The rabbit haunts from a distance, patrolling fields for one to bear witness.
Gracefully the tenderfoot stalks, keeping a watchful eye out for Mr.Fox.
The creature walks with a slight limp, other animals often call him a gimp.
This way, that way, it all seems wrong, keeping time with a lost robin's song.

His home constructed as a single story wonder, located within a large tree laying asunder.
Family life wasn't right, as fleeting an image as a wayward kite.
A field mouse, left without spouse,
Stumbled upon the home in a tree, accompanied by a group of songbirds filled with glee.

The field mouse was asked to go, the creature in response, simply said no.
A man stumbled up, as mad as a hatter, his portly girth made it hard to imagine being any fatter.
He spoke of intrinsic right, boundless visions beyond sight.
Told the rabbit he had a duty to the mouse, saying it immoral to deprive him of a house.

The rabbit, reluctant to accept , found out from the man of the true evils in neglect.
He was told that he didn't own the home, it had simply been gifted as a goodwill loan.
That meant it was as his as much as the rabbits, regardless of any perspective habits.
With that the moused moved in, and brought with him his prized snakeskin.

Over a meal the mouse spoke of danger, coming in the form of a wandering stranger.
He told the rabbit, this creature travelled light, but usually shrouded in the cover of night.
Said the creature was not large in size, though his methods of thievery seemed quite wise.
The rabbit recoiled in his chair, as the field mouse offered up a demonic glare.

The field mouse grinned from ear to ear, sensing this rabbit's new grasp on fear.
Pulling the snakeskin from his sack, the dried shell was quick to crack.
The mouse spoke of a brave duel, between him and this monster, which had downed a mule.
He used every ounce of his cunning, and sent the legless beat running.

It wasn't good enough for the mouse, who was certainly no louse.
He tracked the snake for six long hours, through a field of partially bloomed flowers.
In the end he killed the snake, then took its skin so listeners knew the tale wasn't fake.
He held the skin, I mean the mouse, and said he'd hang the shell within the house.

Mr. Rabbit was found dead two days after, his body lay desecrated next to the snakes, hanging from a rafter.