#hatter
some trains are on course to be a wreck
and there is no stopping them before that happens
but you might just have time to disembark
before it leaves its last station.
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 11:18 AM UTC
When we see what some people are dishing out,
we know what Bertrand Russell was talking about:
"The stupid are cocksure, the intelligent full of doubt."
When you meet someone who thinks he's clever,
but seems much too confident in his endeavour,
and talks to you non stop and forever and ever.
When he acts like a prophet defying convention,
never admitting a lack of comprehension,
promptly has a cure for everything you mention.
When he hands out his advice on a silver platter
convincing you that his opinions matter,
you can be certain, he's as mad as a hatter.
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 3:53 AM UTC
At the bottom
This empty hole I've dug inside myself
Waiting to be saved
Catching a glimpse of light above
Those glimpses are getting fewer
Far between
I think about the idiots who told me
"It's mind over matter"
I had a mind
To lift above matter
Ever since I lost it the matter is too much to bear
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 8:28 AM UTC
They tell me the fires are not real
That the sparks sprinkling my veins does not exist
That I am just imagining the insanity in my own world
They reprimand the way I stare as I glare into the devils eyes
As I demand the devil to stop shouting my sins and the ways I have lied
They scream with "it is all in your head" as smoke rolls from their eyes
All I want to roar back is that they can't shout sanity into insanity
But I can't
And with that I glance down looking at the way hell opens up and snatches me into the ground
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
You’re preaching your vanity
To my innocent insanity
But I will hide within
While you strut and jut your chin.
Feeble destruction, I confess
Sitting in my pretty dress.
Ribbons of gold and silk of blue
I wouldn’t lift my skirt for you.
Roses white and gentle pink
Stained with red when the thorns *****
To behead a rose - 'tis not wise
Our stinging beauty terrifies.
Among the peonies, footsteps soft
Pretty little ladies’ faces don’t rot.
Corsets choking our manic laughter
Underneath her frills it’s a disaster.
My innocent insanity
Comes with a smile.
Take my paper hand good sir
Stay with me for a while.
You’ll enter blind
And leave a new man
Able to hear
That that is not there
And barely able to stand.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
I found myself under
the dance of flashing lights
and dimming night,
of talking clouds
and breathing hours,
the hands of time
would tick in his hand;
loud enough he told me
as his voice reverberates in my ear,
"Welcome to Wonderland."
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
A party of fake facades, smiles etched
like lingering cyanide upon already
dead words not yet muttered in my
direction. I listened to there boorish
musings of how men are of "who cares...
Upon my glances was seen a wisp of
Ash coloured in the essence of a butterfly
I tried to heed its name, but like an ember
it baited me in wonderment of what it
was, then all had fallen leaving a cage of bone.
It fell between the shimmer of a mirror and
descended into nothingness. But alas my
crime of boredom had been captured by
eyes of screams. She had it coming looking
like I was lower now she doesn't breath.
Lingering on my demise of a white jacket,
filthy white room of a looming lobotomy.
Partly shaven head, not my locks of gold.
To sit in a room of regrets but not remembering
What was after another round of shock therapy.
Snapping out of that realm of reflection I lunged
forward, no looking back as it weaved around my
being. Lament essence radiated around me, I
was between a motion and nothingness. I was falling
to another fate of ill thought through reasoning.
As I weaved in and out what was and what is, I
was on a shelf of unproportioned size, where once
I was of stature now I was not. Last times thoughts
beckoned me forward as if some lingering force was
to give me a demise I wouldn't want in either place.
I lunged forward seeing what was again anew,
little egg needed to be taught a lesson.So with no
thought I jumped upon a steed and crushed his
shell under his hooves, breakfast is ready I told the
kings men, devouring the bludgeoned eggy once again.
Then I saw the cage anew talking of a friend feeling so
Not himself under the thoughts of the blue moon.
I thanked him and with a smile, decapitating his wings
from his form. As I knew what was about to befall myself
as walked once again through that door.
But the first step wasn't as before, I feel through the
heavens and wings were now like leafs in my palm
dripping tiny ebbs of blood. I passed the vultures
that lingered near that place many fell through, but
I was not a supper for a wonderland bird.
I landed upon crimson blossom, descending upon the
remnant pieces of who'd fallen before. My old friends
where here as if waiting to see if tragedy had befell me
on this fall. I glanced around to see misgivings of eyes,
As rabbit stood before me?
"Rabbit how can this be,
"That's was my brother,
*"Many more have fallen since last you eat
upon my brothers flesh for tea,*
There standing needle marks ever visually punctured
upon her white flesh, newly dripping blood did I see.
"Fear not it is but a trickle my dear,
"I overdosed the last time we saw,
"But I was clean for a while, but it called to me,
Last but not least I felt a wet sensation between
thighs and knew of only one of this crudity,
first was eyes then a smile, but least of did
it last long at all. As foot greeted its smirk
turning it in to a ****** frown.
"What brings me to this place once again?
"Tis the hatter he has not killed a soul,
"Not stabbed or cut, concealed breath,
*"He isn't as you knew him, that look
faded from his eyes,*
I looked upon sorrowful faces, they need
the killer they loved to hear make others
scream. The gardens hadn't flourished since,
No blood roses feeding on those beneath.
They were wilting without his feed.
Bewilderment as I took steps towards his door,
where once jagged slashes had all but destroyed
the door, his voices were many all telling him to
**** but now I stand before a door painted in lilac
and a knocker saying "Hi I welcome you,
To Be Continued.......
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
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
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
“Do you know, to my thinking it's a good thing sometimes to be absurd; it's better in fact, it makes it easier to forgive one another, it's easier to be humble. One can't understand everything at once, we can't begin with perfection all at once! In order to reach perfection one must begin by being ignorant of a great deal. And if we understand things too quickly, perhaps we shan't understand them thoroughly.”
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
Another,
Another,
Drink up, girl,
Drink!
There’s more to the art of tea parties
Than you think,
See, I’ve been doing this longer
Than you’ve been alive, but
The clock keeps on ticking,
Do you think you'll survive?
I’ve read the leaves,
I know what they say,
Tell me I’ll be stuck here
’Til my dying days,
They should’ve put a warning
Sign by the rabbit hole -
In I came, but
Out I can’t go,
So,
Drink up, girl,
Drink!
I have to continue,
Creating new fortunes
With every *** I brew,
Really hoped that I could have
Stuck my fate onto you,
But you’ll be keeping your head,
Ain’t nothing I can do,
So,
Another,
Another,
Drink up girl,
Drink!
It’s an endless tea party, superb,
Don’t you think?!
I know I’m stuck, but
You’ve got nothing to fear;
Though I have to warn you,
We’re all mad here.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
I'm falling through the looking glass, not really knowing,
That the world's spinning past and everything's growing,
There's a rabbit and I gasp for he seems to be glowing,
Tell's me time's moving too fast and I ought to get going,
There's a cat that I can't see except his twisting smile,
And he's been haunting me and hunting me for mile upon mile,
I keep my mind off that grin but I know I'm in denial,
Then my head starts to spin and I'm gone for a while,
Not to my surprise, I find this place is taking it's toll,
Then before my eyes, I'm crying, losing control,
Trying to claw at the dirt, falling down the rabbit hole,
Feeling nothing but hurt and a fear for my soul,
This is my role, living to entertain,
Cake and champagne, drinking tea with the insane,
Smeared against the pain is the smile that I feign,
It's a colourful country but my colour has drained,
Turning blue like my lips, like a vein, like the chatter,
With all of these psychos God knows who's the Mad Hatter,
A mouse, hare, a man, and I'm guessing the latter,
Then my images shatter, a woman dressed in red,
My heart is a **** in her lover's bed,
Two colours clash and I'm sure I am dead,
Red royalty laughs and screams "off with her head",
But I have not sinned, I have not marred,
I will not be scarred by the Red Queen's guard,
I am the wind in the houses of card,
The joker you treated with disregard,
This land's full of wonder but that wonder is callous,
I will bring down the blood stained palace,
Felling diamonds and spades with a purebred malice,
I win, for I am, the Ace of Alice.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
Five. Cinco.
Half of the ten and a fifth of the twenty five. Mathematics are a funny subject, don't you think? Some man just made up letters to correlate with numbers to transcend to concepts that in all reality could mean nothing and the square root of a orangutan could actually be yellow.
I contemplate on that a lot, being the Grace that I am, wondering if what's real is real, if words are just words, or all they the pygmy hippopotamuses flying in my dreams. Anything is possible. Dreams could be reality, and reality could be a dream. Or maybe there is no such thing as realness, and everything is just madness.
I learned a lot from my friend the Mad Hatter, how to love, how to be disappointed, how to fall into a pit of despair and how to wear a hat like a ****** deviant and love it.
But the most important thing I learned is that sanity is very subjective, because what may seem totally sane to me, completely within the norm, may seem like complex incongruity to someone else. Maybe we're all mad. Maybe no one's mad. Maybe its just you, maybe its not you.
Special. That's another word that always got me, but I prefer to think in the realms that everyone is different. The world is in different shades and hues, none are ever quite the same, so why should people be that way?
But maybe yet again I'm only speaking in riddles and soliloquies and monologues and standing over all my conquests I am screaming my thoughts while they utter not a word, fearful of manic me.
I'd be afraid of manic me. She is quite the finger-twitching tyrant.
Words are words but are they real? Are they what you mean or are they just lies, lies, words that you scream until she dies, dies, and the world is at peace.
Oh, that's not right.
I once wrote a short poem similar to that I could recite by heart, but as my heart has changed the words become jumbled. Death creeps its way into lies, and heavy juxtaposition ***** with my meanings. Eating my words, until I am not a girl anymore, I am a leaf, or a bat, stuck in Wonderland until the end of my days.
Funny how Alice the savior became Alice the bat.
Wait, I'm not Alice, I'm Grace.
Oh, I do not know who I am anymore. And that is the tragic beauty of Wonderland. You just never know what, or who, tomorrow may bring.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
Wonderland has an alleyway you know,
said Alice to her grandson of three.
It's not all shoes, and ships, and ceiling wax,
unbirthdays and cups of tea.
Where the white rabbit is on time for once.
From South Africa he ran,
To be tried before the red queen -
for shooting Mary Ann.
It's where the buildings are not simply filled
with cakes and cups of tea;
They explode - not from happiness -
but planes and TNT.
Where we need not paint the roses red
nor support the white knights plight.
For recently he lost his head -
Now they're painting England white...
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
I consider minuscule matters in grandiose patterns that look like splatter
a splat of molecules and wit and love and precious oracles
and who is to make sense of the chaos in between these unseen things
but they rather sit and ponder these minuscule materials
silently, quietly, considering
gently plucking and picking the similarities
across the scenery of that in which makes no sense
inhale exhale
consider the mean
of meanings
and what it even seems
silently, quickly, mentally
snapping back and forth between reality and fantasy behind the mask
that protects me from you
and that and which over there
literally what this mask represents is all they try to expel you from
because the world is masked in frowns and desire
covering smiles and laughter that naturally breaks free from our skulls and lungs
but in this world we wear a mask to play hide and seek
the game we play so hopelessly as children
and then so unconsciously as adults
whatever that is
the mask on the world only grows larger in strength
and its terrifying
human existence
and the unknowns
but that's the mask the terror and the horror
is painted on the mask
because human existence is nothing but beautiful
and im trying with every rhyme
and every winding turn in this compilation of the non existent
to show you and you and me too that the infinite beauty of this life
is indescribable
is unimaginable
is intangible
and this infinite beauty i call life
is you
in everything because nothing beneath this mask is not you
the mask that hides the earth
because you, infinite beauty and soul are the earth are the world
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC