"hatter" poems
coffee.
we meet at starbucks and i can almost pretend nothing changed until i feel the distance in your voice.
i am calm and quiet. i did not expect this
yet here i am sitting in front of you as you explain how you feel (a rarity).
and you and i are alike in more ways than i realized before.
cantalope.
flying through the young night air
i feel alive and free and happy again.
i meet theresa j hanson. dancer, 19, long thin hair and long thin body.
she says she's heard a lot about me and i am surprised and i like her very much (or my first impression anyways) even though you told me that one time that you had *** with her and other girls would probably instinctively hate her. but i can't. she's just so nice and anyways that *** had nothing to do with me.
she gives us cantalope and me ice water.
cigar smoke.
we go out on the little apartament porch and you smoke the cheap cigar, the kind your grandfather smokes. get a red solo cup for the ashes and i found an old ***** butter knife out here. and we sit. and unexpectedly you say can we start over. and im shocked(you've suprisde me so much tonight) but so grateful and of course we can. you blow smoke rings and when you say whooo are youuu i cannot help but think of alice in wonderland and you are the smoking catepillar who asks life's hard questions and am i alice or the queen or the mad hatter or lewis carroll
coming back.
we reinact a a scene as if we just met and i kiss you as if it's the first time and that is how you will remember me and my lips are cold and your mouth is full of smoke and the kiss is fire and ice it's a wonder we did not steam. something so you'll remember me{i will never forget} and i guess we'll figure out on the way.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
the little girl just could not sleep
because her thoughts were far too deep
her mind had left her; gone out for a stroll
and fallen down the rabbit hole
this life will never be a wonderland
nothing goes just like it's planned
all the creatures are gathering round
as her broken body tumbles down
but darling, you're too late, I fear
your sanity has already left, my dear
maybe you're too big, or maybe you're too small
but you'll never get to wonderland at all
you're mad as a hatter, and far too late
you'll soon see, but you'll have to wait
this will soon all be a memory,
left only as a darkening dream...
(the girl wakes up to the smiling light of the crescent moon. but the nightmares don't end.)
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 7:09 AM UTC
if, somehow, you could see how high & dense your fortified groves has gotten
you wouldn't be asking me why i'm trying to get to you like a giraffe gets to the
leaves in the trees, because your barrier is like barb wire tangled around your
wrists and, almost like a failed lobotomy, you're as mad as a hatter, and the
ribbons that tied us together tightly unwoven it's knot, and i'm so careful in
finding the pieces of worn bricks to tear down and not break you in the process
the fear left me restless, without a doubt, you get helpless after a while and
start believing that sandpaper and silk are similar, but they aren't textured the
same in reality, yet who even really knows what is wrong and what is right?
maybe the puzzle pieces get worn over time and they're not even considered
to be pieces to a puzzle anymore, it's like putting together a falling apart pie
- kra
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
The first thinkers were poets
Naming Mother Earth
Beginning symbolic thinking
Of nature, death and birth
Though themes are often repeated
Love, Beauty and God
Poetry in the guise of Religion
A prophet or a fraud
The poet resurrects the Primitive
Through allegory and similes
Disarming the unknown like explorers
Sublime Prophets and Visionaries
They must lay bare those treasured images
That must be expressed
Unraveling and revealing the sounds
At each soul’s behest
Encompassing the entire Cosmos
So lyrical the beat
The poet’s excitement flows outward
Laid at the Reader’s feet
So original, individual
She won’t examine or explain
Letting go the festering feelings
Disturbances in her brain
He exposes his dark, wounded psyche
Just to release and express
Such capacity to see and compare
Hyperbole at its best
I love, I hate, I suffer
A special dance in rhythm and rhyme
The poet as a buffer
Lessening the pain and sting of time
Laden with symbol and feelings
She gives you sweet relief
From something urgent, revealing
Confusion to belief
Through a cinematic kind of seeing
The poet purges to transform
By leaping through Alice’s looking glass
She never was one to conform
Quite intolerant of convention
Just like The Mad Hatter
His passions immune to all logic
In syncopated patter
Jamming up the poet’s mind
Struggling for expression
Seeking order out of chaos
An infantile regression
Cleaving to his imaginary world
The poet breaks out into words
Creating sound paintings to be unfurled
So his own agony is blurred
She succumbs to storms of passion
With instinctive techniques
Rhymes and rhythm still in fashion
Out of hand flows mystique
The poet mines from his unconscious
The Reader is not blind
For every single line and symbol
Means something to the mind
Causing an inner liberation
Enlightenment or flight
It is a matter of life and death
When darkness turns to light.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 6:55 PM UTC
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
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I need only to smirk and you’re mine
Anytime
If it’s god that you want
I have dozens in mind
Devilishly divine
Bending time like a grandeur delusional
Spine
In a mad hatter ectoplas-mystical slime
A prismatic drug addict’s first nursery rhyme
Of accursed hearse verses of graphic design
Now to lay to rest intellect spectacles musing
Of selves glorified more than those of my choosing
To deify Destiny’s
Deathly serenity
Plentifully sending me vibrant surprises
And penning my ending in violent demises
Disguises surmised by the climate arises
Girl always there riding my similar waves
As I try to save face digging mechanized graves
But the cloud tentacles
To the depths
Drag me down
To demented ascension
Black holes in the ground
Where disciples of light
And my huntress in white
Vivify me by day
Resurrect me at night
To instruct and deduct
Reasoning in a state
Of a being supreme
Contemplating its fate
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
How glorious it once was
My Wonderland
Singing flowers, unbirthday parties
And painting roses red
Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee
Laughing, playing jubilantly
White Rose
Beautiful, brave
Shy Violet
Strong, sweet
Hatter
Protective, playful
Gave hope, kindness, love
I grew older
Wonder fading
Until only madness remained
My dormouse hid in his little teapot
My Cheshire cat disappeared
The Queen of Hearts gave misery
Tied in a treacherous bow
The caterpillar tried to transform
Toxic, ***** fear
Beware the Jabberwock, my dear
He wants you for his bed
My love, the Hatter left me
One golden afternoon
Devoid of wonder
Doomed to ache
The White Rabbit came
And took me by the hand
To lead me from my once wondrous Wonderland
You’re late You’re late
Your future will not wait
No time to say “I love you, Goodbye”
You’re late You’re late You’re late
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
How I wonder what you're at!'You know the song, perhaps?" "I've heard something like it," said Alice. "It goes on, you know," the Hatter continued,
"in this way: -- --
'Up above the world you fly,
Like a teatray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle --'"
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Rhythm of life
Nails tapping on table tops
Beating of our hearts
spin the world right off its axis.
Momma shot a man in Reno
Just to watch him die.
Atlas shrugged
And we all tripped as we walked
The pace of our mile,
off by 3.6 seconds.
Trust in our stated axioms
Disillusioned Americans in Paris
Judged by the color of our skins
and the shoes on our feet
No one stops to see how blue it is up there today.
Hurrying through the rain
Our cities never sleep.
Going down South
It’s slower down here.
Sunday’s best and
“God Loves You” stickers when you get your oil changed.
Night train whistle blows
Factory steam pipes squeal
Mississippi riverboats tug and chug
Dictionary.com definitions let us down.
Greatest disasters in history
are when thing we take perfectly for granted
stop working.
Mad cow, mad hatter, mad world
Bad boys, bad wine, bad date
Ellipses, dot dot dots, dramatic pause, passing of time passing of time passing of….
……..
………….
…………………….
Time.
Tw—
Twi—
Twitch. (tick tick tick)
I believe in the abnormal
And the impossible
And I refuse to believe that fictional characters aren’t real
Animals completely understand me
When I talk to them.
Baby missiles fire
From all parts of the globe
End of the world party
Let’s go down in glorious drunkenness
As the beating of our hearts
Spins the world right off its axis.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 11:34 AM UTC
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing
on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing
as he stands;
The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning,
or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—
or of the girl sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her,
and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows,
robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.
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"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"
~Later, towards the end~
Alice asks, "Hatter, why is a raven like a writing desk?"
Mad Hatter: "I haven't the slightest idea."
Then Alice disappears back home.
So why is a raven like a writing desk?
Ravens symbolizes death and to me Writing symbolizes
freedom.
But when you think about it ravens fly-- come and go as they please. Writers feel like that when they write at a writing desk--
come and go as they please.
So maybe there's the answer...
Ravens are free, and a writing desk is a place to be free.
But maybe a raven is also like a writing desk because most good poems deal with some type of grief, or joy...Every good poet deals with issues with life and the grief that comes with death. Every great writer has troubles-- look at; Edger Allen Poe, Dylan Thomas, and Emily Dickerson, just to name a few. Edger often wrote of ravens and drank, Dylan also drank, and Emily was afraid to go outside. We all have troubles, but only a certain amount of people can write about them in poetry and make the words be so beautiful. So maybe in the movie there was no answer, but it all seems to random to have no answer. So here's my answer: Freedom and Troubles, Ravens have/deal with both as well as a writer at a writing desk.
Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 4:18 PM UTC
My dearest Little Brother, if there were only words to describe how I feel,
I would tell you that you are amazing, you're truthful, and your real.
You've come from depths and the darkest of despairs, you've lived through things that people only conquer with prayers.
Yeah, we get it, you weren't dealt the best hand of them all.
But look at you now Will, still standing there tall.
You've made it this far, yeah with a lot of love, but what is family for if it isn't to give you a shove.
With your head held high and optimism in your heart
You've realized that everyday is a new beginning, a fresh start.
Yesterday is gone and the past; it doesn't matter.
"I knew who I was this morning but I've changed a few times since then."
Once said the Mad Hatter.
Forever changing, we all aways are. Like Alice in Wonderland, trying to get home from afar. There are so many obstacles blocking the path to our destiny,
but in the end we find out it was all for necessity.
Hardship and obstruction are the root of all things great.
You have to overcome them to set yourself straight.
You have to trudge through the agonizing and the bad
So when you wake up you realize that there is no reason to be sad
Your blessed in more ways than one can fathom
A family that loves you and believes in you, you have them.
We set our standards on what we think people want from us,
But not you, no sir you don't understand the fuss.
You march to your own drum, make friends wherever you go
I've seen you go through a lot and I just want you to know
You've come out on top but there's still room to climb
So don't give up hope and don't say your fine.
Talk to me when you need an ear
Know I love you and I'll always be here.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
I hate this life so very much. The dope... Just never enough. No matter what I do. No matter where I go. I feel alone. I am unknown. There is no where's for me to roam. This drug is toxic. The chemicals hypnotic. My teeth grinding. Turned to powdered slots. As each moment passes the next, it's all just a big fuckking blur. The time has all past. And the mad hatter has finally crashed. There has never been a better time then this! Where there's nothing here that's even left. Everybody has stopped believin in what was gunna leave them next. The possibilities were never ever even really their!! So left behind. There is no more time.
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC
Pills, pills for the mentally ill
The more you take, the worse you'll feel
So down the hatch
Yep down your throat
Very soon you'll be wearing this coat
A hug me jacket tarnished in white
With buckles and straps wound so tight
But for now some side effects I wrote
Down here on this pretty little note
Increased thoughts of suicide
And harsh voices to which you can't hide
Nausea, drooling, and anxiety too
And whoever seems to be "after you"
We'll put you to sleep
You won't make another peep
Strap you to a cozy bed where you'll slumber
Pump you till you're as cool as a cucumber
To which we'll add you to our lovely garden
No ifs, buts, or beg your pardons
What's the matter?
You seem unwell
You're as mad as a hatter
This I can tell
So don't start a spell
Don't start a clatter
We'll pick up those pieces to which your mind has shattered
Just take this pill
In fact why not stay
You're better off here anyway!
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
Panic,
placed on the splintered edge of a dreaming mind,
I spit and sputtered, like the dying wings of
a dragonfly on a cold cappuccino morning.
She called me in the dark moody blue hue of early morning
as if to steal the broken moon from the attic in my chest.
So early I could hear the creak of spider legs
inching for a place of warmth.
Still in dream logic, she was crying so quietly
Melted spoons for a brain, I could only hear
the groans and pains of
the pet spiders on my ceiling,
their so cute and pissy in the morning.
She muffled "I need help"
I snapped awake as if a reflex to fight a charging train wreck.
This time advice came direct from my dream landscape the truth served dark black
and without the vanilla flavor.
I focus and get in gear "Hey girlie I am here, whats going on?"
An hour goes by a like a cat sneeze on a stormy day.
Again she laughs if I could see her, her smile would be wide tired and tear stained.
I laugh with her, while aching at the corner of my eyes " well hey try that tomorrow and if it doesn't work we can brainstorm to try something else. Call me tomorrow my sleepiness is welting my consciousness, I am not much use now except maybe for some mad hatter talk." A pause she sighs as if pushing of sleep. I wanted just one more smile to be sure" Stand strong if you can survive this hit the sky will clear for you. We'll strangle the rainmaker if we have to"
parting jokes and the call the ends, my moon back in my chest
content spiders basking in rays of light I can almost hear the hum of the morning sun.
I smile fading with the ceiling tucking me in, I can see her curled up with her stuffed animals half crying half terrified she falls to sleep drooling on her long time best friend
Mr finkers.
and
Finally the purr of happy spiders lulls be back to sleep.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
I’m no Alice in Wonderland,
But I am more like the Cheshire Cat,
They say I am more deranged
Than the Mad Hatter’s hat,
They say I can be quite rude
Like the Queen of Hearts
And like the March Hare
I sometimes nervously fall apart,
I’m no caterpillar
Blowing smoke rings
But I might as well be same to them all,
Because I’m madly curious about things.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
come be my Mad Hatter
and let me be your Alice
drive me insane
with your upside-down reality
we would kneel together
in front of the
Queen of Hearts
don't let go of me
lest i awake from this dream
and never see you again
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
At the end, will it be brandy-wine or mescaline to sugar coat
enlightenment, the purpose,
the omnipotent influence?
Some live to make a whirling dervish swoon.
Some pray to Love, composing sonnets for the moon.
Some find themselves floating, bloated lungs with lazy currents,
mourning free-will.
With questions perched atop your windowsill,
do decomposing wings pull with yearning to wake
in dawn's warning? Your beak,
a rattling, pneumonic drill.
It's a dead end,
fear and adrenaline.
Invite me in
to ostracizing nuisances.
Therefore,
I may imprison myself in cylindrical cells,
pop out wisdom like bubble-wrap,
fight the mighty ocean swells,
or shimmy up the lobster trap,
With inevitable siege by buzzards eying wildly,
shedding sea-salt feathers that won't be washed for weeks.
Still, the mad-hatter trades me one more spill for spill.
And I taste the honesty we sip for swollen memories
whose frantic bodies let fists fly on flushed faces
that we never truly see.
In profound confusion we stumble, blind.
Then, we all forget so blissfully,
once we reach the rainbow's end.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
I want to run away to wonderland,
away from these tough times I'd never planned.
Away to find my own Cheshire cat smile,
and to forget all my troubles for a little while.
To smell the perfume of roses as I run through the wood,
falling through the rabbit hole as elegantly as I should.
To have tea parties while being kissed by the sun
with a touch of warmth and a promise of more fun.
I wish to become as lost as Alice in the forest
and to find the madness the Hatter possessed, if I'm honest.
And once I am in wonderland
I'll stay forever, just as I'd planned.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
The flyest chick that I will ever know,
she be cooler than winter, cooler than snow.
Her name is Hannah, but thats doesn't matter,
she's even better than the ******* Mad Hatter.
'Imperfection is Beauty,' is her favorite motto.
What the hell in the world rhymes with motto...
I'm definitely not perfect when it comes to poetry,
But I'm sure my Hannah-Kins still loves me.
I may have met her recently in this school year,
but she's an amazing & rad girl, I'd share my beer.
I just wanted my best friend Hannah to know,
I love her & I'll never let her go...
(Not in a creepy stalker kinda way... eh. Maybe)
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
My words have just been ramblin',
I left the rhyming state of mind.
The ace of spades is gamblin',
but the rabbit's now on time.
Elevator going down,
catching buses to the sound.
How do I know that I am late?
Time exists in spite of fate.
We're racing, now, against the clock
in circles, 'round the spokes.
I've forgotten how the ticking tocks,
for the gears have been long broke.
Darlin', won't you take my hand?
They're try'na pull you under and
together we can leave this land,
but you must know just where you stand.
-
This shortcut leads to trouble,
but you'll get there on the double.
Bad ideas, I've had a couple;
my shattered thoughts within the rubble.
Broken fragments of my mind,
my fate's aligning just in time.
To the past, I'm disinclined;
looking down an uphill climb.
-
You're sending me a message
about the faithfulness of love;
the white rabbit left me breathless,
I still don't know what you speak of.
"I chose you, please choose me, too?"
I'm running, but I don't know what to.
I've fallen down the rabbit's hole,
into a world without console.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
To define him is a difficult challenge
To impersonate him is a hard task too
But who is this man with a hat on his head?
It seems like everyone has no clue.
It is the Hatter!
The most mad of all
He is also a type of friend that you can call
You can call when you fall, and no longer can crawl
But be careful!
You might don't want to see him go wild at the hall.
What was the hatter with him?
Oh yeah, he's mad!
It is the effect of high mercury
Oh, poor dear lad!
He very much love tea parties
Along with his friends including Alice
He's the weirdest man that you'll ever meet
And he has this mad, crazy, wonderful treat.
Because his madness has no end
He may look like he can harm
But don't worry, my friend,
That is just the attitude of his charm.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
**She's going down
Because of boredom
Open the doors
To Wonderland
She ate the cake
Then drank the potion
She shrunk down
Then grow up
Heellpp , heellpp
Heel-lpp
Heellpp , heellp
Heel-lpp
Ehhh Stupid
Said the Mad Hatter
To ring the tea party
With the March Hare and the Mouse
I'm so thirsty
Could we drink the tea
Remember my...
Aaa-aaa-aaalice
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you feel like her room without a roof
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you feel like Wonderland is the truth
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you know what the moral is made of
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you know that the adventures had just begun
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
You would tell me that Humpty Dumpty was well put together
if only you'd see the pieces of my life torn apart, hanging by a thin tether;
and you'd think to yourself that the Mad Hatter was very much sane,
if only you'd see the dark crevices and lunacy within my own brain.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
The inverse of error
A metaphorical math
Because I rhyme so sick in season
You can call men Sylvia Plath
You can call me Sylvia Plath
Spilling verses accidental
Spilling blood like pen and paper
Give me rock paper, scissors—construction
Philosophy of metaphors—the reciprocal of destruction
Creation in deviation
Multiplication in meditation and mesmerizing memorization
Mad in the head, but I’m a mat-hatter for love
'A zombie by neuroses
A zombie by drugs
But on those pharmaceutical
Cause cut **** is for thugs
(3% probability
Is in the margin of error
How many times have we ******
And would you even care?
Oh, despair. The plague of a woman-
Slick wit like slick ****
And you can call these rhymes grimy
Because I’m cleaning your eyes with it.)
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC