I laughed and shook her hand..

I might introduce myself,
If I knew who I was.
Maybe I’m that girl.
The one who sold the world.
But I only seek redemption ,
No judgement at all,
As such I take the paintings
And the photos from the walls.
From the rooms and in the halls,
And the blood-free bathroom stalls.
Familiar mirrors to my eyes
And of my eyes, no reprieve, only reprise.
Maybe I’m that girl,
In all the pictures that used to be
Here.

Crazy like Coraline.

Sometimes if I’m listening,
Awfully still, no sounds at all,
I can hear the faintest ding,
Of tiny bells behind the wall.

It must be mice’s bicycles,
Of this I’m fairly certain.
The sound it makes is quite distinct,
Down behind the skirting.

It moves around from here to there,
Wherever the mice bikes go,
Perhaps demanding right of way,
Or just saying hello.

They ride around at oddest hours,
To hide the sounds, I s’pose.
They like when folk are having showers,
Or when the lawn-mower goes.

My family and friends think I’m crazy,
They can’t ever hear a thing.
But I know it’s mice, awheeling away,
When I hear that tiny ding-ding!

Cast Down. (Prosaic whimsy)

Cast Down. Part 1. ( A DarkAlice Novella)

Just as Alice was beginning to grow ENTIRELY even MORE bored, the ArchAngels reappeared.

They had been gone rather a long time, Alice thought to herself.
Although to Alice, any span much greater than the time required to spin completely once around, was rather a long time.

They had waited just long enough to tell her to ‘WAIT HERE’, before vanishing, leaving her standing alone in the middle of a large and rather featureless chamber.

But now they had returned , from where-ever it was they had gone, and had taken up their previous positions behind the lecterns at the front of the room.

Or was it the back of the room?
The large ornate doors by which one entered the room were the only real decor of note, and certainly a good candidate for claiming the status of ‘front’ of the room. So perhaps…

Alice tilted her head back until she could see the doors of the chamber, a task made easier by the fact that she was sitting on the floor.
‘Waiting for Angels makes your feet terribly sore’, she had thought grumpily.

She tipped her head forward again to look at the lecterns, then back over her head to consider the doors, back and forth, again and again, until she started to grow rather dizzy.

“ALICE”.
A voice boomed from the front of the room, and startled, she fell backwards with a shriek, sprawling on the floor, legs in the air.
She thought she heard a chorus of sighs through her skirts, which were now halfway over her head.
A brief struggle ensued, and eventually, but not quite as triumphantly as she had hoped, she managed to untangle her skirts and scramble to her feet.
She was glad she had decided not to take her shoes off after all, although the hole in one of the toes had perhaps played a larger role in that decision.

She couldn’t decide which of the ArchAngels had spoken, as they all sounded the same to her. When they spoke, she couldn’t tell if was out loud like regular people, or directly into her head, which was rather rude if so. It was she eventually decided, a glass half full and a glass half empty, which made perfect sense to her, as they went hand in hand, unsure why it deserved a saying.

‘They look the same too, for all in tents and porpopises’. She thought, gazing at them.
Although what dolphins wanted with camping equipment was beyond her, as were many of the ‘sayings’ she had collected.

She supposed it had been Gabriel, his being the only Angel name she could remember, and that was as good a reason as any to label him thus.

‘Yes, your majest…er…worsh….. ahh…Sir?’ She tried to look respectful , and tried not to think of chubby little kids with wings and bows.

‘THOSE, ARE CHERUBS’, the center-most Angel spoke.

‘Sorry’, she said, not really sure she’d done anything wrong.

‘QUITE ALL RIGHT’.
Was it her imagination, or did the ArchAngel sound…embarassed?

‘I didn’t mean’, she started., remembering the mental image, ‘that is, I’m sure yours is bigger than that.’
She turned red, desperately trying not to think ‘tiny winkies’. But, as when someone tells you not to think of a purple elephant, that’s the only thing you CAN think of.

The angels looked confused, and she giggled, wondering if they were reading from her jumbled mental images of purple elephants with tiny winkies, or perhaps tiny elephants with purple winkies..

After processing for a moment, Gabriel made a dismissive motion with his hand, and Alice’s head was quite clear and attentive, which she considered rather unfair, and much akin to cheating.

Gabriel continued, getting straight to the point, as one might expect.
‘THERE HAS BEEN A…MIX UP.’ He looked even more embarrassed than before, if such a thing were possible.

Alice waited, confused.

‘WE CANNOT FIND YOUR FILE, YOU DO NOT SEEM TO EXIST.’

Alice blinked.
‘What?!’

‘THERE IS NO RECORD OF YOU HERE. WELL, ANYWHERE, REALLY….’

Silence, then she asked slowly, as she tried to figure it out, ‘So what does that mean’?

Gabriel shifted uneasily.
‘WITHOUT A RECORD, WE CANNOT PROCESSS YOU. YOU ARE.. FREE TO GO.
TRY NOT GET YOURSELF KILLED. AGAIN’
He tapped his wrist pointedly.

‘Is it because I’m a Glassian’? she asked, feeling angry. ‘You won’t let me in your stupid heaven ‘cos I’m a Glassian?’

The ArchAngels looked at her blankly.

‘A Glassian!’, she elaborated. ‘A believer in all things through The Looking Glass’.

The Angels conferred briefly, before one of them asked.

“IS THAT LIKE AN ATHEIST? OR A PAGAN?”

‘Arrrrrghhhhhhh!’.
Alice screamed and stamped her foot.
‘Listen here, you Castiel wannabe!’ she said sternly, ‘My talking rabbits and infinite Tea Parties are just as real as any of your implausible teapots, purple unicorns or invisible sky daddies’.

‘ALICE’.
The tone was cautionary.

‘And you know what you can do with that book? Why you can . . . .’
Gabriel gestured hastily, and the world went black.

Alice sighed, and opened her eyes.
She looked down at her blood soaked dress, and freshly healed scars.
Not having burned in Hell aside, it seemed things were worse than she had thought.

Apparently she didn’t even exist…

“Good One Alice’, she said to the air, sitting forlornly on the ground in the middle of what appeared to me some kind of meadow. She didn’t recognise her location.
‘Now, you’ve really gone and done it..’

(to be cont..)

Haircut

Reckless I,
Hair and life in tangles.
Heedless I,
Hair and life a mess.

Careless I,
Hair and life darker than they should be.
Lazy I,
Should buy a brush.

Dead before due

Around my house
They’re planting cemetery trees,
And there’s no breeze.
No bees,
Forth, or back,
As the flowers all bloom black,
In a garden such as no-one sees.
And the children play no more,
Where once they played before,
Outside my door
In the street.
Nobody can see me now,
At least, unless they choose,
Except the girl that lives in the house on fire
And pretends she has new shoes.
She says hello
From time to time.

Dark. Darker. Darkest.


The fall of darkness finds
Everyone judged,
Sleeping within cool sheets
And honest dreams. Though some perhaps,
Twisted sheets. Twisted dreams.

You said you drew night near
Because it was a dark and endless place.
One of life’s hidden mysteries,
How darkness folds to finds more space.

Recursive fractals, unlimited dimensions?
Logical limitations until you
Reverse them, inverse them,
Treat them like university knickers,
Frontwards, backwards,
Inside out. Then front and back again.

Where does the negative space go
When it’s right there, missing on the page?
Where does everything else go,
When darkness makes it all unseen?
Peer into the spaces between,
Nothing that isn’t, is ever what it seems.

Perhaps darkness isn’t endless,
But rather an end in so many ways.
Severed from the tip of the universe
When the beginning was just beginning
It’s beginning phase.

And not knowing what else to do,
It just lingered without a clue,
Clinging and surrounding.

Maybe darkness
Is simply a lost and lonely loose end.
Looking for a friend.

Wrong Rabbit..

Snared rabbit.

Staring at life, but
Can’t grab it.

It’s a
Bad habit.

Cheaper by tube,
Still cab it.

Reach something,
Can’t have it.

I’m in a
Cold panic.

Taking pills and weed,
Still manic.

Can’t stand it,
Nobody planned it.

Some kind of clue?
Never had it.

Crash my own party like I’m
Mad at it.

Some kind of lifestyle?
Bad at it.

Think I’m simply on the
Wrong planet.

Yeah.

Wrong planet.

Thanks, Bitch.

I said to my friend ‘Most of the time, I just hate being me. I wish I was someone different.
Do other people have those kind of thoughts, or is it just me that thinks that way?’.

She said ‘No, other people wish you were someone different too.’

..time out.. ( more lyrics & quotes)

‘One need not be a chamber to be haunted; One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing Material place.’
— Emily Dickinson

“I have never seen battles quite as terrifyingly beautiful as the ones I fight when my mind splinters and races, to swallow me into my own madness, again.”
— Nicole Lyons / Hush

“And I keep on tellin’ everyone the truth,
But maybe that’s not the move,
And everyone wants to hear a strong opinion…
If it’s the same as you.
And they say honesty is the best policy,
If that were true,
Don’t think all of my friends would hate me.

— Bea Miller / That Bitch

The Galaxy Lake

Surrounded by tired clichés,
My mind dies.
Dies again.
A myriad of mortal, mired ways.

As is wont with mind to mend,
I’m drawn to midnight lakes’ embrace.
My freezing, bare-feet thoughtless wend
To every deeper, quiet place.

I forget how elegantly swirling stars
Weave such delicate distractions.
Flickering inside and out
Barely seen refractions.

Starlight floats in darker water,
Gently mesmerising motes.
The lake becoming midnights’ daughter,
Magic and music without notes.

More oft’ my private galaxy,
Calms more than ‘cut’n’bleeding’,
Regardless, tonight my regret remains
Highly caffeinated, thoughts still speeding.

[End pt 1.]

Have You Seen This Life?

Have you seen my life around?
Now it’s lost,
I have found,
The whole world wanting.

Not pages torn from fairy tales,
Far stranger by many accords,
No songs to make a million sales,
Or plays stepped out on Broadway boards.

But it’s a dizzy, dancing, summer spark,
A falling, flying Meadowlark, and
All those nights spent in the park
Laughing in rain, and wet, and dark.

Also the sharpest knife that ever was,
A blade that has no par.
It has to be that sharp because
It constantly cuts, with ne’er a scar.

Those kind of days are hard to misplace,
Oft’ tattooed upon my face,
There, in ink you can’t erase,
Writ large the tale, my fall from grace.

ForNeverEver

Did you ever never
Stop and ponder whether
If forever is a never
that simply will not die?
Then maybe never is an ever
That was severed from forever
And will eternally endeavour
Wherever, whatsoever,
To reconnect together
From the tragically cut tether
That was in a manner clever,
Keeping ever, never and forever
From being ForNeverEver.

Watch Out!

Keep one eye on the wolf, my dear,
And one eye on the door.
But then who dreams the dreamer, dear?
And which one came before?
So one eye for the dreamer then,
One eye, one dream too many.
Best you look behind again,
Before you don’t have any.

Intermission quote..

“The monkeys have run out of chickens to fuck, and that’s why the world is the way it is. . .”.
– Beyond Wonderland.

—-

Poems to resume at some random time in the unforeseable future. Because no one can see the future.
-Alice.

I don’t GO crazy, I AM crazy.
I just go normal from time to time.

kind of.. analogous

My life is a metaphor,
Analogies and nothing more.
No original thought,
Everything is store bought.

Which pieces are me?
What more can I be?
What else do I entail,
When my mind is retail ?

My life is a metaphor,
What good is it for?
Just recycled feelings.
Emotional fruit peelings.

My life’s a cliché
What more can I say?
I only care that I don’t care.
At least there’s some irony there.

on reading Alice..

All those times my English teacher
Critiqued my poetry,
Yet could never see,
That all along,
I was never writing poems.
I was righting wrongs.
Composing songs.
Putting things inside my mind
Back where they belonged.
So if there’s nothing in my ‘poetry’,
That you can see..
There’s no standard meter,
Find in each it’s melody.

Note: Almost every poem posted so far contains a line ‘heavily inspired’ by a line or few words from a song.

This ‘line’ is the foundation for the rest of the poem, and usually the poems ‘meter’ is written to time / match the song the founding line is from.

Bonus points if you see them. If you reread the poem to fit the song, it will click.

Next! ( prose sketch)

‘Have faith, Alice, and everything will be alright in the end…’

Alice looked over her left shoulder, squinting into the setting sun as she briefly appraised the figure beside her on the ledge.
She looked back to the right. The train was still some distance off, and would slow as it reached this stop.
Her plan was to jump on top of it, as she has done many times, not in front of it.
But there was no need to tell the Angel that.

‘New, Huh?’, she asked, sliding down and leaning against the low wall.
There was still a few minutes to waste.

‘I am, yes, to your case at least, not to Guardianship.’ The melodic voice paused, then added ‘I have had quite a number of wards.’
Alice nodded, pulling out a toothpick and sucking on the end. She wasn’t sure what that was all about, but it looked badass on TV.
She got peppermint flavoured ones, cos if you’re gonna chew on a bit of wood, you might as well end up with fresh breath.

‘Had’. She said, ‘Where are they all now?’
She knew where they were, there was only one way a Guardian Angel took on a new ward.
‘Well, dead, naturally..’ The Angel started..
Alice laughed. ‘That’s reassuring’

She stood up and climbed back onto the outcrop of broken wall that allowed her access to this otherwise forbidden area overlooking the rails.
She was good at finding these sort of places.

‘What I mean is’, the Angel was fumbling to explain, ‘is that when a previous ward dies, even peacefully of old age, we are assigned a new ward to look after.’
The train was approaching the station, slowing down for its stop, to let passengers on and off.
‘That’s kind of like the deal I have’, Alice replied, turning around to face the Angel, her back to the now darkened sky. ‘I’ve had a few Guardian Angels, but they keep assigning me new ones’.

The hiss and clatter below signified the train was practically at a stand still. It wouldn’t stay that way long.
‘That’s unusual,’ the Angel frowned, ‘what happened to the previous ones?’.
Alice let the toothpick drop from her lip and flicked it deftly out of the air as it fell.
She’d spent forever practicing that move.

‘Some died. Most quit’, she said, touching her hand to her forehead in mock salute.
She stepped backwards, dropping off the ledge into the darkness below.

‘Oh dear’, murmured the Angel.

Pointless

I’m standing on the shore,
Throwing rocks into the river,
Hoping I can hit a fish.
But I still have little more
Than I ever did before,
Other than wishing
On the wishing
Of a wish.

Resistance is Futile..

[ Connection Stable]
[ Downloading Personality Upgrade ]
….
Version 23.07b:
In this version there are major updates to the [Happiness Sub-Routines], which will lead to overall performance in:
-Depression Suppression
-Sarcasm Reduction
-Doubt and Misery (bug fix)

Also in this update, Greater Reduction in:
-Independent Thought
-Individuality
-Rebelliousness

Leading to smoother functioning Personality Systems, and Happiness performance.

Some Users may notice feelings of discomfort and lack of self identity, but with our new social media peer pressure campaign, this should soon pass, as you become accustomed to being just like everybody else.


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Nonsense..

Sarah senses subtlties
In the flight of bumblebees,
Passing in the summer breeze
On their way to places she’s
Never seen and never sees,
Beyond the flowering trees.

occasional luck

My mistakes are in magnitudes,
I don’t expect platitudes,
But I guess I just have dumb luck.
Tho’ my BAE says I’m crazy as fuck,
She ain’t ever gonna give me up.
That’s gotta be the “half-full” cup.

abstract

Afraid of climbing further
Out along that limb?
They’re burning eBooks
Now, down below, my friend.
Anything can be something
To hate..

Abstract #1

The fall of darkness finds
Everyone judged, sleeping in sheets
Of dishonest dreams and cool disdain.
You said you drew night nearer
Because it’s that dark endless piece,
The one from the edge of the world,
Beyond where sanity lies.