When you take everything from a man
And his trust has been betrayed,
That man cannot be trusted
But you can trust his rage.

That man will stop at nothing.
He'll be ready to take the fall.
In his rage, he will seek vengeance,
And he will want it all.

Footsteps that were past tense echoing
upon me like thunder, then the lightning
fell upon my vision and it went murky
in sight. I was within an eclipse of darkness.

Hands clapping on my thoughts urging
me to arise from this ill-gotten slumber.
I was tied as if to be burnt on the stake
of old, raised on feet I gazed in confusion.

A rope levitated my throat to upper reaches
just enough for breath but I gazed on a
room of discord. All was as if anger had taken
form and expelled itself on the surroundings.

With muttered echoes I spoke, "is anyone there,
But my words fell like dead leafs from autumns
cold voice. I waited upon the mirrors reflection
bouncing back at me of incoherent thoughts.

"Hello Peter, how are we today,

Confusion was my playmate as I considered my
reaction to this voice of my solitude. I recounted
the many repetitions of who I had angered in
my life. And on me I struggled under there weight.

"There was a little called Alice her hair like sand,
"She was the apple in the eyes sweet and beautiful,
"And you took that all away, away from all she loved,

Karma had stewed for so long I could smell it on my
conscience, and I knew that my end was but echoes
of memories away. "I know who you are, technicalities
were my weapon of choosing to those ill fated in meeting.

She was one such one, and there were a few before her.
But I retired from that form of endorphin rush. I became
placid like the lonely tormented sheep around me.
"I'm was a good little boy, no need to take this further,  

But like a sphere once you take that first step you'll
end up at the beginning once again. I saw myself in
this dilemma, not as in this scene but others playing out.
And within those few thoughts I felt what was karma.

As I felt so warm at peace with this action, but then the
reality swept those lingering dreams away. I was dying,
A replay of what perspired in past memories but not her
me in that place. "Karma always finds you,

They were his last words, I don't know which father
brother friend they were. But now they had felt the
lingering sensation of expelling life. Would they
keep it secluded or would they become lik.............................

The white rabbit leads me silently
I follow her dutifully blind
She's all I've ever known in this life
No lost world left behind

The caterpillar won't help me
Surrounds me in thick, grey smoke
Cocooned in itself as always
The truth it always cloaks

The hatter dances to no music
With the mad March hare
Intoxicated on more than tea
Through me the hatter does stare

The Cheshire Cat is plotting revenge
Grinning high up in his tree
Watching my every movement made
He's hiding the only key

The Queen of hearts just hates me
With all of her strength and might
No reasoning will soothe her
All she does is done in spite

This is no Wonderland here
No wonder to be held at all
I scrabble in the darkness to find it
The key to the only door

A fire burns in my throat that can not escape,
my restraining tongue and lips bind it.
they should be grateful for this tongue of mine,
for if the fire escaped,
they would no longer be laughing.
For my fire is one of vengeance,
a searing whip; that on it,
has the broken shards of a soul.
They would feel the backlash of their taunts,
their stereotypes,
and their prejudice,
along with their own scorn.
But I hold my tongue,
creating the illusion that I am naïve,
a timid bird with shut wings;
I am something different though.
I am the feeling of exuberance,
of hard won independence,
a roaring beast thats magnificent wings
are aflame.
Aflame with the sweet knowledge of truth.
sparking with the truth that justice exists,
and tables can turn.
Lucky for them,
my phoenix of revenge
lays smoldering in the dark.

Pretty little singing blue jay,
petite chanteuse in navy gown,
your sweet tweets drive the gray away
and pick me up when I am down.

But, blue jay friend, so help me GOD,
if on my car lands one small poo,
I'll climb that tree and drop my pants,
and return the favor to you.

I painted your portrait today
your yellow hair suddenly
turned gray--
your green eyes went black
your smile
went slack
and the paint ran
down the canvas
in rivulets of what looked like
discolored blood
pooled  there on the floor
--formed it's own kind of mud
I stood there
not at all proud
of my rendition of you
yet--knowing your portrait
was something
I was compelled to do
and if ever you come by
to see me again
I'll let you have it
(the painting)
minus your evil grin.
(it's lying there on the floor)
Oh, you won't miss it, I assure you--
it's right here just inside
what used to be
our front door...

I am a rose.
Delicate to touch;
Innocent to the core.

You crushed my head;
My sweet, soft petals;
You left me no choice;
But to stab you with daggers.

You unleashed the demon inside of me,
You removed my sugar-coat and left me naked -
Bare.
It's your fault alone that you are now hurt;
Your thick, red sin oozing all over.

It's a taste of your own medicine.

I am a rose.
Delicate head;
Innocent from the neck up.

They say the fool seeks revenge
And the wise man forgives and forgets
But vengeance is protecting others from your fate
It is being tortured and destroyed by another human being
Caring and loving other people that you risk your own life to destroy the threat for them
True vengeance is rarely for oneself
The wise man forgives the sinner out of the good of his heart
But he then forgets?
Forgets all transgressions, betrayals, and pain
The wise man lacks in morals for not letting justice prevail
And handing over an evil thing back to the world back to the innocent

The fool sees the sinner through the eyes of God
Containing anger, pity, and vengeance for those who are the hurters
The wise man sees the sinner through his own eyes
Determining the fate of another by his own hand

The wise man is a fool for ignoring evil
And the fool is wise for destroying evil

You keep shaking at the branches
just like money grows on trees.
I been dealing in these cheap clichés
just like they'll help me leave someday.
And--easy! Easy! Easy.--
We can't let 'em hear us scheming
at the bottom of their hill
while their victories are streaming.

I can still remember days
when sane folks always laid bets on us.
With our mortarboards tilted all smart
and God left sorting filters,
we tilted, tipped all windmills
and we smoked through all opponents.

You'll tell me I once loved you.
I'll reply that, once, I could.
And we'll keep on telling stories
'til our voices clear the woods
and drift on up their hill
and through their windows
to their ears.

I'll tell you you were beautiful.
You were! I ******* swear!
So tell me I was beautiful
and that we can repair
this broken clumsy story
that ****** us all up and brought us here.

Up there atop their hill,
those thieving ******* sip their wine,
while below them, our white facepaint runs.
We plan ahead for better times.

I keep shaking at the branches
as if friendship grows on trees.
Just as though they might accept me,
when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves.
And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes
and flimsy dreams.

But I still think you're beautiful.
So tell me that I'm beautiful.
And then let's clip their flimsy wings.

Those ******* 'crost the town
are eating **** and grinning.
               Cackling,
               orgasming,
while counting out their winnings.

But their music plays too loud
and soon their eardrums will be bleeding.
If they can't hear us breathing, babe,
they'll never hear us scheming.