Wonderland
by Michael R. Burch

We stood, kids of the Lamb, to put to test
the beatific anthems of the blessed,
the sentence of the martyr, and the pen’s
sincere religion. Magnified, the lens
shot back absurd reflections of each face—
a carnival-like mirror. In the space
between the silver backing and the glass,
we caught a glimpse of Joan, a frumpy lass
who never brushed her hair or teeth, and failed
to pass on GO, and frequently was jailed
for awe’s beliefs. Like Alice, she grew wee
to fit the door, then couldn’t lift the key.
We failed the test, and so the jury’s hung.
In Oz, “The Witch is Dead” ranks number one.

Keywords/Tags: Alice, Wonderland, Joan, Arc, martyr, blessed, beatific, religion, witch, Oz, carnival, mirror, lens, jury, kids, lamb, beliefs, faith, sonnet

let the lips of my angels embrace you wholly, God,
a kiss of wisdom waters love with the embodiment of heavenly art,
I am scented with an ocean of delight,
my soul is wounded in your love,
let us rejoice at the final end of human life,
death comes near, let it approach and break the bonds,
the lips of my soul paint your beatific visions,
let me die not for your love, but instead let me flourish evermore with this sublime gift.

I strive to be beatific,
Honestly I do,
But things always seem,
To intervene,
And get in the way of my ****** happiness.

****’s sake!

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