"vorpal" 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
Christmas holidays
Joy, Laughter, Cheer
"Merry, Merry, Marigold," sang Mum
"Merry, Merry Mum," sang Marigold
Cheeks and nose tips
glowing bright pink
against frigid air.
Bodies at sharp upward angle
ski lift carrying them
Up Up Up
Tips slightly skyward
they slide smoothly from the lift
Marigold then Mum
Side by side
Each spies their downward course
With mighty heaves they push off
"Happy Christmas, Mum!"
"Happy Christmas Marigold"
Marigold's helmet
A disco ball
Glitter, sparkles, color
reflecting brilliant sunshine
A comet streaking downward
Screaming toward terminal velocity
Mum carves a serpentine path
A python's body in the new snow
Fresh
Natural
Tranquil
Somewhere near the top
Children hear a hideous snicker-snack
A pine bough vorpal sword
Finds its mark in someone's back
Somewhere on the mountain
Sun melted snow
And the carefree happy skier
had nowhere else to go
Her skiing day ended
Amid the trees and dirt
Her glistening glitter helmet
Crumpled
Filled with earth
Paralysis would be the happy ending,
but this is not that day
The little girl named Marigold
will never get back up to play
That's the tragic outcome
when trees meet vertebrae
Her friends gather together
Engineering an awesome little shrine
filled wth flowers, cats, and baseballs
and even a basketball-sized porcupine
Beneath a mighty pine tree
Friends embrace and say goodbye
Christmas holiday is a rotten time
For little kids to die.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
Pertinaciously vituperative irrefragable determinism. Inscrutable axis of spontaneities’ imaginative. Perplexity’s prognosis to prospectus. Elan vital’s preternatural perpetuity. Cohesive coherency’s opaque opulence. Space-time continuum’s natural induction expressed as identity. Exponentially tangential imagination’s immaturity. Entropy catalyst blonds. Spaciotemporal telemetry tactician’s tellurian terrene. Protractive analyses dimensional delineation. Reflectively refractive positional empathy. Prophylaxis protocol. Objectified manifest's self inductive diminutive minutia iotas of interstitial edict. Graspy greedy stingy frugal mingy minions. Manumission’s indentured servant sail.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 12:52 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 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
Following the white rabbit in his waistcoat
Listening to the tick tock of his pocket watch
Let's fall down the rabbit hole nestled at the trunk of the tree
And where you land is a room
An entire world hidden behind a door and all you need is the key
A nibble from a cake that makes you grow
And with a sip of a drink, you shrink
Insert the key and twist the ****
Opens the door to a world beyond imagination
There's a cat that grins
And with a smile, he disappears
Have a cup of tea and a biscuit with the Hare, the Hatter, and the Dormouse
Paint white roses red with the Red Queen
Beware of her freakishly large head
Slay the Jabberwocky with the Vorpal Sword
And restore the White Queen to her throne
I'm sure the ****** Big Head wouldn't like that
"Off with her head," she would say
Listen to the bicker of the twins, Tweedledee and Tweedledum
The Red Queen calls them her fat boys
Partake in the musings of Absolem
The hookah-smoking caterpillar who transforms into a beautiful blue butterfly
Let us escape to Wonderland
It is far more appealing than the real world
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 6:25 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
As the night falls dark, my heart beats hard,
for without you, love,
the demons are free to feast upon me
Come you and your sword,
come you and your strength,
come you and shield me,
from demons around and demons about,
from demons that feast upon me
As the sun sank deep,
and the stars shone bright,
the moon became sinister
and the demons were let out the night before
Came you with your vorpal sword,
loved me and kept all harm away,
the sun came back, the stars smiled,
the moon grew gentle,
and the demons turned angels
But tonight, my love, the demons are free to feast upon me.
Come you and take me away, I cry...
Come you, and bring the sun again.
Come you, and shoo the demons away.
Come you and kiss these tears dry.
Come you, oh. Come you, again.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC
He fell away with his uffish head all full
and he bought what we couldn’t buy him and
he didn’t buy what we swallowed whole
or at least he sold it back or gave it away
for vorpal heresies & novel fascinations
And just like we taught him to ride the red
a few swipes away from bankruptcy and desolation
but welcome and chortled to fail if that’s
easier for now than climbing the Tumtum tree
or trying to make it in this world
well fed - given all to eat and truly loved
It’s curious how the rain gyred down today
and stopped and came again and stopped
because the cadence of his windshield wipers
seemed to coincide with the crankier parts:
only working when there’s nothing left to wipe
We don’t even give two ***** if a Jubjub bird
falls dead and he whiffles away, sword
between his legs (though that is dangerous)
and the beast escapes. He can eat the **** bird
for all we care, but for sustenance, not triumph
But our son is still lost; he’s frabjously
writhing in the tulgey fiber of disappointment
unable to slay even the puniest of borogoves
His melancholy surpasses all comprehension
and he isn’t coming home any time soon
He’s not galumphing back.
What use is a mimsy rhyme to the famished?
How often are we warned, beamishly chastised
of the brillig peril of worrying ourselves
with feeding the slithy soul
when the body burbles, always demands to eat first
and is satisfied by no less
than the frumious flesh of the fatted calf?
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Little girl follow
Lively dreams curiouser
We ask for your time
Living in a world much different
Than our dear confused and lost Alice—
No mushrooms or cake to save me are sent;
No caterpillar to lend me nonsense advice;
Humpty is not here to decipher my scene
And the Jabberwocky would swallow me thrice;
Whole, with no vorpal sword incessantly keen—
But in Alice’s Looking-Glass, she is but a pawn
Though she soon finds herself as a queen;
One who had once tumbled, greatly fall’n
Lost amongst incandescent characters.
We wonder, what from what idea had this story spawned?
Compiled insecurities and labyrinth like factors?
Alice wanders blindly in our minds relentlessly.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
I must get down town
Get my teeth sharpened
To give a nastier bite
Yes a bite to remember
That my victims will not
Oh ! how nice to bite
An evil dream come true
My claws to be done too
Making a loud clash of course
If not , I'll be empty of my music
I have to keep an eye out
For him with the Vorpal sword
I believe , he's my mortal foe
Resting by the Tum Tum Tree
Awaiting to cut me down
I Jaberwocky , with eyes aflame
Like to whiffle along
Through the beautiful Tulgey wood
Bubbling in tune as I happily go
Sensing danger near at hand
Swish , swish , swish went his sword
Sway , sway , sway went my body
But the devil, he ****** well is
Dug , dug , dug, deep inside of me
My green blood Spraying all around
He galloped of without a horse
With my head held high aloft
But, so much little did he know
That, when night should verily fall
Cronjyceuse will set me right as might.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
Perhaps I shouldn't mock your previous sentiments,
But Lord Bitterness has requested it be so,
And I am but a jester on strings for my Lords & Ladies.
If I cut them with vorpal shears I might be free.
More likely I'll just collapsed, a pile of cut parts.
Better I sing and dance while tugging here and there.
I'll eventually pull them all deep inside me.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
RECORD: WHITE RABBIT
FROGMAN: washington AIRPLANE (fly you fools)
Muorftantipheus, Frogmen: wield it like a CHORD,
and raise your hands
in triumphant ACCORD!
Tackman: You're note
going to find the name
on that wrote,
sun.
It's small enough to be a stagger.
Ingktrofsplector: Yes, well
some words
have yet to do their deed
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The VORPAL VOICE went snicker-snack!
He left HYMN dead, and with HIS Read Head
He went frall-um-sting back.
-- Lewis C. Karroll
Tric.
Tric.
Tric.
ING!
that's what i'll frame you!
REFORM: WRITE FOR MIND
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:30 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
coffeehouses and bookshops are obsolete and underrated
i always seem to feel the most comfortable and loved
while the wooden brown furniture and smells of roasting beans
envelop me in transparent steaming tendrils of intimacy
reaching inside to find my inner poetic self
coming up with all sorts of ostentatious phrases
to make my prose sound extremely extravagant
and therefore myself a satisfied troubadour
chronicling my ****** escapades through life and love
agromania
heliotrope
pavonine
quinnat
vorpal
zydeco
don’t i sound special?
It’s the coffee fumes that are finally getting to me
Caressing the recesses of my brain, drawing out streams
Of words that which i do not know the meaning of
Can i be sure they’re even real?
Can i be sure of anything anymore?
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 6:53 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
Falling faster, call the pastor
He's a ******* don't extract her
Sharing dreams, now cross the fracture
Changing fonts to write new chapters
Drowning in laughter
What's the matter
Can't you see the one you're after
Hypocritic, I'm a cynic
Watching you reach for quite a minute
Can you save her, can you savor
All the moments you've enslaved her
Now you're burning, conscious hurting
See yourself as undeserving
What you're learning
Stomach is churning
Freedom means you're by yourself
Inky depth, in the darkness of my mind
Lobotomize my tongue, let me drool it out like wine
A verbal vorpal blade, that seeks to make you mine
You're bleeding out emotions, so we're only wasting time
Tragedy has left you broken into pieces undefined,
Faceless emotions, and flimsy love potions
You can swim across the oceans if you follow in their motions
Late night with the lotion, Spirit bomb explosion
Water makes erosion, I'm burning out my Trojan
Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 10:08 AM UTC