Sean G Mar 2015

if life was like a carnival
and we drove on the road like we were in bumper cars
wouldn't we adapt to live in a place like that?
a place where the cars crash and slide into each other
a place where you shoot a target with a real gun and take it with you as a prize
a place where going into a haunted funhouse could mean the end of your life
should a creepy clown venture close enough?
wouldn't we adapt?

Not my best but I kinda like it. I don't know.
WistfulHope Nov 2014

I see my frame bent and bulging
Convex, concave, corrupt
When I look in the mirror
I'm never the same
I am pretty, ugly
Pretty ugly
It's like a game

Today will I eat
No, my distorted reflection
Is enough of a treat

Small chest
Huge ass
This funhouse is a barrel of laughs

Come on, try
What do you see
All I see is a girl in the mirror
I wish was not
Me

No.
No.
Vidya Ravilochan May 2012

concave,
convex;
you stretch and shrink

from the blood and chocolate
on your tongue.
a mouse, peripherally,
jumps sobbing out of your
breadbox.

you drive your fist through the mirror and when
i walk in you
are at the dining table,
playing chess with the pieces of your shattered
soul
the blood still running
from your knuckles.

stéphane noir May 2014

up in the attic
way up with the stars
and the memories of old stuffed animals
and trophies and you wouldn't believe the number of ribbons.
and stars on the ceiling
and one of them was a shooting star
and there were others that were definitely glow in the dark stars
but they were so obviously not Glo-in-the-dark Stars.
they were a different color. like a more green green.
but the coolest was the little glow in the dark planets
that stuck to the edge of each of the fan blades.
i wasn't sure they wouldn't go flying off, but they stayed.
nothing like listening to an alternative rock song
idk... ["Glycerine" by Bush was the first thing that popped into my head].
and watching those planets go round. everything went round back then.
no real problems to speak of. and what's the difference now?
who says we have to feel the certain way that we do?
why
follow
the
rules.
nobody says i have to.
in fact, the people who are not following the rules
are creating the rules.
i seem to remember this thing called
"taxation without representation"
where we ensured these types of situations were through.

but i'm rambling.
i got off the topic of the stars on the ceiling
and the trains that ran the walls.
[i don't know how long i had those trains
maybe like twenty years, honestly.]
a part of me still misses them.
but anyways the trains were pretty kiddy
you know kind of puffy and not real trains.
like they were made of overlapping circles or something,
each one a different color. the wheels were yellow, the body was blue,
the face was orange, the  smokestack was red.
it was a clown train.

so, what is it that i miss about that time?

the security?
maybe.
it's tough looking back on yourself when you were younger
and saying, what the hell was i thinking?
or really, what the hell was i feeling?
because anyone can diminish their thoughts to that of a 7 year old,
but to be grown and feel what a kid feels,
well that's impossible.
isn't it?

the freedom?
in the dark i've discovered
how to feel certain parts of my brain.
Certain parts of my brain.
i'm the bird, the cage, and the keeper.

the simplicity?
now you've struck something.
stars on my ceiling because man moved up.
trains on my walls because man moved forward.
static in my dreams because man thought.

it's a bit overwhelming sometimes,
being flooded by memories.

you come out and don't know who went it.
Porter Dec 2013

sharply crack and crumble
fall and shatter loud

shred the drape and curtain
tear away the shroud

grip this mind and squeeze
wring it with your claws

hold it with your teeth
crush it with your jaws

pump it with concoctions
shock it with delight

there's no door for madness
only carnival at night

FeelMyFeelings Jun 2013

She looked into the mirror
Thought she saw a ghost,
Little does she know,
It’s only her reflection
Not who she is but
Who she used to be
Depression was eating her alive
She only saw pieces of her now
Nothing of the person she’d hope to become
Her eyes were black
Much like what her life had become
The little green monster was chewing on her soul
It wanted to kill
She wanted to forget
Forget everything that had been done to her
Everything that they’ve done to her
It wasn’t working
It still took her
Turning her green inside
And beautiful out the worse possible outcome
Beauty should be within not out
But instead of beauty green blood flowed through her body
Her heart was now shaped like a skull
Her brain now resembled a plant and
It could have been prevented if
She wasn’t lead into that
Dark dark funhouse

spiritedaway May 2013

i wish you would write me
as i am
but you distort
every word
every expression
your mind is so warped
you look at me
like i'm a funhouse mirror
you see a misshapen reflection
of yourself


dearest,
remember
me.

Phil Smith Dec 2014

I drove to Judah's Funhouse Orchard
to pick my own apples
and build my own lavender dishes,
but I put my new friends in a -famous- basket.

Oh, how it overtook me with its windswept stories!
It told me of a fat, shiny snake,
but we were drunk,
and the only person at the party whom I cared about gave me a slinky smile
and told me to leave.

So I left with a hurricane in all of my pockets,
and I played darts with the basket's forgotten, fairy-dusted nephew.
Illuminated by a single lightbulb in a concrete cavern beneath my mother's kitchen,
I learned to give up my apples
and forget my lavender dishes,
because my crudely-woven drunken comrade
is now a shining sober picture
of my sordid, henpecked past.

like clockwork Aug 2015

i'm in a house of one way mirrors
people looking in only see themselves
but all i see is you
     staring
       staring
         staring
                                             at me

Benjamin Banker Sep 2010

Traveling through space and time
Puzzle pieces going through your mind
And you don’t have a box to go by

I don’t know what the picture is
I can’t tell you what you want to hear
Cos it’d all be one big lie

You’re living in the average American Funhouse
And the mirrors don’t show you
What you want to see
But if you’re lucky, they’ll show you
What you need to see
What we all see

They’re coming for you fast
The thoughts of times long past
And you can’t run fast enough to keep them away

You keep your memories to yourself
And get mad when we don’t see the Hell
You put yourself through everyday

You’re living in the average American Funhouse
And the mirrors don’t show you
What you want to see
But if you’re lucky, they’ll show you
What you need to see
What we all see

9-14-2010
Olga Valerevna Apr 2013

Behind the mirrors in my head the ground was made of sand
But I could not get far enough to see beyond the land
So like a plant, the stem my feet, I grew what I could stand
And waited for the day to come when height would take command

For then my eyes could not create a  farce from lack of sight
And thus sustain reality to vilify the spite
Reflection I have come to know as that which carries light
But more than this, a filter for the things you choose to fight

But when you overcompensate for work you have not done
The angle made will redirect the shining of the sun
Distorted now, your vision claims to be the only one
Who kept up with the pace you set when you began to run

Maddie Feb 2016

As I stare into the mirror
My insides deflate
Is that really me
Staring back

All these critiques
Echoing in my head

This is too big
That is too small
My hair so frizzy
My body so fat

Look into my eyes
The window to the soul

Lost in the dark
Pleading for help
Falling on deaf ears
So much has changed

Last time I explored
I didn't need this flashlight

Too bad I forgot
That the escape isn't easy
It isn't quick
And it isn't forgotten

Seared into my memory
Imprinted onto my brain

Pounding to be let out
But my foot is stuck
I take the tumble
Such a familiar state welcomes me

There are some things I can hide
And others that seep through the cracks

Most things I'm unaware of
Oblivious to my own self
Until I take that tumble
Every once in a while

But I never get out in time
To avoid the pain

Myra Apr 2016

We are but in a fun house,
Paralleled and mirrored in time
With our fingers pressed against the glass,
We cautiously pace through the clicking rhymes
Our own reflections confuse us,
Disguising our true way
But if our only way out was through our words,
I'd still struggle to find what to say

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