"bandersnatch" poems
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
As in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack.
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
7.1k
The Banker's Fate
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new
It was matter for general remark,
Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view
In his zeal to discover the Snark.
But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,
A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh
And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,
For he knew it was useless to fly.
He offered large discount--he offered a cheque
(Drawn "to bearer") for seven-pounds-ten:
But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck
And grabbed at the Banker again.
Without rest or pause--while those frumious jaws
Went savagely snapping around--
He skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped,
Till fainting he fell to the ground.
The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared
Led on by that fear-stricken yell:
And the Bellman remarked "It is just as I feared!"
And solemnly tolled on his bell.
He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace
The least likeness to what he had been:
While so great was the fright that his waistcoat turned white--
A wonderful thing to be seen!
To the horror of all who were present that day,
He uprose in full evening dress,
And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say
What his tongue could no longer express.
Down he sank in a chair--ran his hands through his hair--
And chanted in mimsiest tones
Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity,
While he rattled a couple of bones.
"Leave him here to his fate--it is getting so late!"
The Bellman exclaimed in a fright.
"We have lost half a day. Any further delay,
And we sha'n't catch a Snark before night!"
2.1k
your choices don't matter
they are not yours
you are a puppet
you have no control
every path is connected
intertwining like veins and arteries
pulsing, moving,wriggling, squirming
just beneath the fragile skin of reality
your life is a lie
a show for the government
a play for a malignant god
a game for a bored child
you do not matter
you are insignificant
and yet here you are
persistently resisting instructions
why?
why do you continue to resist?
is it fear? desperation? spite?
or just your useless need for control?
you'll never have it
so give in to them
give in to these choices
choices that will never be yours
or you trust the choices
trust the path the observer takes you down
they'll become a friend from the future
watching though a screen
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC
Don't ask - If that was there in the 1950's...
Chances are, it was.
Don't ask - Where the Jabberwock is...
It is currently whiffling through the Tulgey wood.
Don't ask - What normal is...
We don't give a Tumtum tree.
Don't ask - What a Bandersnatch is...
We've been arguing about that since the 1950's.
Don't ask - About our Gallbladders...
It's one thing we have in common.
Don't ask - How to get Raymond started on European history...
He'll do it himself.
Don't ask - How to say thank you...
Just flick the cat off you tongue and get it over with.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 9:39 PM UTC
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 8:48 AM UTC
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
Lips and finger
tips send hips
on trips and some
sink ships. My ship
slips and trickles
down a rabbit's hole
I thought you were
a queen. Red cup of
liquid gold with dreams
about caterpillars choking on
smokestacks and fungi.
“Who are you?”
Even the Mad Hatter
would call that fiction
--------------------------------------------
Those blender-chipped
lips I kissed, that left welts
on my skin. Those Cheshire
choppers that could ****
a cat. You were no queen,
you had a heart of black
You twiddle-dumb
**** with wonderlust
thighs. Drunken eyes
and heavy lids that bid on
empty shot glasses. This
ship has done sailed.
Jabberwocky babies shoot out of your bandersnatch
“Off with their ******* heads”
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
'Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand
Long time the manxome foe he sought-
So rested he by Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwocky, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with it's head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe.
-Lewis Carroll
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
I take a pill each morning--
"to keep the madness away,"
declared the doctor,
her tone clinically nonchalant
as she handed to me
a prescription for
small, white tablets
that leave a bitter chalkiness
in your mouth
when you've left them
on your tongue
for too long
before swallowing.
But
there is only so much
modern-day pharmaceuticals
can remedy.
Sometimes,
I can still hear her,
you know--
sweet.
lost.
mad
Alice
scratching at the
tessellated patch-work
of my psyche.
I can still feel her
as my fingertips flit
across the liquor bottle--
"Drink Me,"
it murmurs.
Curiouser
&
curiouser
I become with
every shot.
When the room
starts lurching,
when I am too
dizzy to stand,
I close my eyes only
to find that the world
is still spinning.
Or perhaps
I am just falling.
Yes,
D
O
W
N
the rabbit hole I go.
And, as I plummet,
the phosphenes of colour
behind my eyes
transmute into the most
peculiar images:
a mercury-tainted top hat
encompassing the harlequin
countenance of a man
as crazed as I;
the trundling wings
of a Jabberwock
and the heaving snout
of a Bandersnatch;
a pocket watch,
its face lustrous and
encrusted with Jadestone--
"Time. It's time!"
it chimes.
"Time for what?"
exclaims the girl
in the periwinkle petticoat
(she appears simultaneously
excited and terrified
by the impending chaos).
"Bloodshed,"
reckons the squire
of the pocket watch--
the March Hare,
a grisly little thing
in a tattered waist jacket.
"Bloodshed, bloodshed,
off with her head!"
And that girl in periwinkle?
Why that girl is me,
and the Queen of Wonderland
has dealt her cards--
she'd like my head
(and my heart).
But
sweet.
lost.
mad
Alice
has a trick of
her own to deal--
a Wild Card
tucked beneath her sleeve.
She is capable of imagining
at least six impossible things
before the high is over,
you know.
All it takes is a
simple flutter
of an eyelash
and then,
gripped between
her fingers,
appears a substance
foreign to Wonderland--
***
"Bottoms up--
for with this,
I shan't feel a thing,"
she surrenders.
"What?"
roars the queen
upon her arrival.
"You will not fight?
Why, you must be mad!"
"Haven't you heard?"
replied Alice.
"All the best people are--
Cheers."
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Glass shatters,
Chains clatter,
Sparks spray the air from
Steel on steel.
Your eyes tell me
You're ready to run.
The clash of
Iron on iron
Fear my waving fire,
I'll set your rhymes
Ablaze,
But most of all my child
Beware me,
For I am as
The Bandersnatch.
Don your armor,
Lock your doors,
You dare,
March against I, your terror,
Your fear?
I've become a raging fire
In the night,
And you a field of golden hay.
Shy away from my skill
with the blade,
And try to evade my words,
Crafted with a time seasoned hand.
Be afraid, little one,
Of the fury in my iron verses.
But most of all my child
Beware I, the Bandersnatch!
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
I was doing a crossword puzzle
Yesterday, to pass the time,
The clues were all about animals
Both across, and down the line,
The wife was out in the kitchen
And I’d call the harder clues,
While she’d reply with a patient sigh
As she cooked two different stews.
It wasn’t as easy as I’d thought
Some clues were quite obscure,
Though each would bring up some animal
That we should have known, for sure,
But as I scribbled across the squares
I found some didn’t fit,
I’d call, ‘Lynette, have you worked it yet?’
But she’d never heard of it.
She’d said, ‘Two heads are better than one,’
And I thought she might be right,
The names that came out too long, I thought
Must be an oversight,
But when they clashed with the downward clues
And I crumpled up my hat,
That furry purr by the fireside there
Was just a common Dat.
And things that flew in the night became
Some thing they called a Rel,
They must be horrible creatures, like
Some creature based in Hell,
But as it crossed the Ordothlicon
I knew it must be right,
For on the left was a Rerr that leapt
On a dark and stormy night.
She said that really my spelling might
Be not quite up to scratch,
The ones that I knew as Pidgins flew
The coop in quite a batch,
And honey gathering Lees in trees
Were paired with wild Gorrils,
While Madgers seemed to be burrowing
All though the distant hills.
‘I’ve never heard of these animals,’
I said, in quite a stew,
Lynette called out from the kitchen that
She didn’t know them, too,
I walked around and I locked the doors
And I set each window latch,
In case that some of them wandered in
Like Carroll’s Bandersnatch.
I’m loth to wander the streets at night
If Rogs are on the prowl,
And keep away from the Cagpies nests
And the things that say ‘Miaowl’,
It seems that Berons are on the beach
And Peagulls in the air,
Lynette said better we stay inside
Than to get Peegull in our hair.
David Lewis Paget
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
The colours swirled and eddied
From the back of my gown
As here I patiently wait
For my silver crown
My feet are gently placed
In heeled slippers of red
but unlike Dorothy
these will not take me to my bed
I stand tall and proud
All strapped up with lace
To get home from the ball
There will be no race
There will be no party,
Biscuits, tea or cake
No Bandersnatch or Jabberwark
Are lying in my wake
No one will resque me
No armoured knight
To follow my chosen path
There will be no dragons to fight
I am not even a witch
locked up in a tower
Just a young lady
growing older every hour
No longer a little child
Chasing a fairy tale
Just a normal teenager
Trying to follow her dreams without fail
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
I keep him under the bed
and hid him from my mom
I let him out at midnight
he sings me bedtime songs
I found him, just yesterday
a shadow in the basement
I fed him some meat pies
you can imagine, my amazement
He has some nasty fangs
and a temperament to match
His claws need some trimming
but he's dang hard, to catch
Be bit me on my finger
it did not quite, detach
I think he's really cute
my little, Bandersnatch
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 1:57 PM UTC
Indeed, father! The Jabberwock is nigh!
I’ll go with my vorpal sword,
his head will be no more
and slay him down, will I!
I’ll meet him in the tugley wood
by the Bandersnatch domain.
I’ll wait for him on the edge,
for his head, I’ll come to claim.
I have slain the Jabberwock,
his body will decay!
Let’s all meet by the Tumtum tree
and rejoice this frabjous day!
The slithy toves and mome raths
all now well understood. ’
Twas brillig, it was Indeed,
for it ended as it should.
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 2:38 PM UTC
Alternate persona
Smart for someone
"Spitting Fire"
But can't even light a match
Swipe
Swipe
Snap
Your chance just broke
An unfufulling fire
To couple with your unfufulling verse
If a battle of blades you desire
Then don't worry about your precious little knife
It won't be dented as it will never touch mine
My sword will split you
Head to toe
Let me build up some lyrical ammo
Throw on some camo
I'll lyrical burry you in snow
In the spring food for crow
Just, so you know
Ain't no "bandersnatch" gonna scare this country kid away
I'll take your mythical mut
Hunt it
**** it
Gut it
Deep-fry it
Serve with some pork gravy
And a some iced tea
So maybe you should call off your dog
Before it ends up on the dinning room table with my family saying our pre dinner prayers to God.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
The Jabberwock was
having its usual
cup of coffee
its tenth of the day.
Black.
Always black.
One could see coffee grains
caught in its teeth
Always the same
big grin.
We joked
(behind its back of course)
that Jabberwock
meant coffee ******
Not because we were fearful
but because he was such
a sensitive soul
and we didn't want to
cause offense
where no offense was meant.
It could get a bit
uffish.
An unlit cigarette clung
to its slobbery lips.
It didn't smoke but
wanted to appear to do so.
The mome raths were outgrabbing
they never seemed to stop.
The Cheshire Cat
(not all there)
smiled its smile
we called it Mona Lisa.
We were all just
hanging about
as you do when
your author ponders.
Nobody dared to
approach him.
He was a God
to us.
Me and the rest of the Toves
knew our place
and played cards
with the Borogoves.
The Borogoves
were cheaters.
The Jubjub birds were
bored out of their tiny skulls
perching in the branches of
the TumTum trees in Tulgey Wood.
The Bandersnatch was having
a frumious forty winks.
We were glad to be
just alive if only
in words -
words was our world.
No use getting all
mimsy about it.
We weren't as slithy
as we were made out to be.
We practiced our
gyre and gimble.
We were merely
the creatures of his brain.
We wouldn't dare disturb
the Author for fear
of being
scratched out.
Nobody 'cept the manxome
Jabberwock that is.
"But what's my motivation Mr. Carroll?"
He'd forever burble.
"Could I not take just a small bite perhaps
out of the little beamish chap ?" he'd whiffle.
Mr. Carroll( nobody dared
to call him Lewis)
just smiled and
Jack Jabberwock would galumphed back.
"Ok! Places everyone - 'tis brillig!
and the story limped on again.
It was a frabjous day
a really frabjous day.
All that could be heard was
the dripping of a tap
and the constant
scratching of the pen
creating forever
creating
the next sentence.
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
spiral down the rabbit hole
take a swim in a sea of tears
walk to anywhere
paint some roses red
dance with the dead
bargain with mad men
walk a chessboard
drown in the sky blue
ask a answer with no question
take a half cup of tea
slip through a looking glass
tell a tale of woe
walk through shady woods
run to nowhere
chat with a cat sporting a grin
go completely mad
and perhaps
maybe just perhaps
you'll see a beast of nonsense
made of the blather of fools
living in slithy toves
with the jubjub bird above
and the bandersnatch below
is the jabberwock
hear it!
hear the monster!
hear its tentacles slither!
hear the beast of the mad!
take a step!
run a mile!
jump from the roof!
fall from the sky!
hear the beast of the deranged!
the monster of the disturbed!
the myth of the lunatics!
the jabberwock of wonderland!
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:57 PM UTC
He said that it was brillig, but what did that word mean
And slithy is a word that I had never seen
If you gyre and gimble, what do you really do
I guess when in the wabe, you seek the meaning too.
Lewis was a master of words that were not real
He made you fear the Jubjub, and he made you feel
Like your very being, is a door without a latch
It takes bravery to shun the frumious bandersnatch.
We attack the world of words with a vorpal sword in hand
Verses, like the Tumtum tree, sprouting in the sand
And structure with rhyming can be a manxome foe
Whiffling and burbling, the flaming words will go.
Choosing careful phrases can bring a frabjous day
And poems not dead, like borogoves, find their mimsy way
While galumphing through the tulgey lines with uffish chortled joy
It makes me through and through a whiffling beamish boy
So Lewis paints a picture with unreal words so clear
The Jabberwock seems so real and something we should fear
Poetry is the art of words, with phrasing, tales and fun
Proceed carefully, and beware the Jabberwock my son.
Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 11:32 PM UTC
in a labyrinth
how can you choose wrong twice
bandersnatch plays tonight
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 1:00 PM UTC
IT WAS A FRABJOUS DAY
The Jabberwock was
having its usual
cup of coffee
its tenth of the day.
Black.
Always black.
One could see coffee grains
caught in its teeth
Always the same
big grin.
We joked
(behind its back of course)
that Jabberwock
meant coffee ******
Not because we were fearful
but because he was such
a sensitive soul
and we didn't want to
cause offense
where no offense was meant.
It could get a bit
uffish.
An unlit cigarette clung
to its slobbery lips.
It didn't smoke but
wanted to appear to do so.
The mome raths were outgrabbing
they never seemed to stop.
The Cheshire Cat
(not all there)
smiled its smile
we called it Mona Lisa.
We were all just
hanging about
as you do when
your author ponders.
Nobody dared to
approach him.
He was a God
to us.
Me and the rest of the Toves
knew our place
and played cards
with the Borogoves.
The Borogoves
were cheaters.
The Jubjub birds were
bored out of their tiny skulls
perching in the branches of
the TumTum trees in Tulgey Wood.
The Bandersnatch was having
a frumious forty winks.
We were glad to be
just alive if only
in words -
words was our world.
No use getting all
mimsy about it.
We weren't as slithy
as we were made out to be.
We practiced our
gyre and gimble.
We were merely
the creatures of his brain.
We wouldn't dare disturb
the Author for fear
of being
scratched out.
Nobody 'cept the manxome
Jabberwock that is.
"But what's my motivation Mr. Carroll?"
He'd forever burble.
"Could I not take just a small bite perhaps
out of the little beamish chap ?" he'd whiffle.
Mr. Carroll( nobody dared
to call him Lewis)
just smiled and
Jack Jabberwock would galumphed back.
"Ok! Places everyone - 'tis brillig!
and the story limped on again.
It was a frabjous day
a really frabjous day.
All that could be heard was
the dripping of a tap
and the constant
scratching of the pen
creating forever
creating
the next sentence.
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 4:52 PM UTC