wonderland should be seen not heard

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 19, 2018

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Submitted: August 19, 2018

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You'll need to learn to ask less, Alice.

For one must practice balance in such delirious states.

So one pill makes you curious of habit,

while the other makes you run away.

Now, Wonderland is in construction.

So until it's done, don't come in--

We're not good or ready, Alice.

I have hats to stitch, and the fastest rabbits need their jackets still.

Ever measure a hare by the hair of its tail? 

No, one must learn to catch it, my girl.

All this to show you how our tea-party tastes mad! 

Yet this one makes you see past that;

You'll be laying in the long grass, lass;

playing lawn-chess with immodest pawns and queens--

Lips locked with bishops who wish you'd flash what's up your sleeve--

and wish you'd bleed

So you can match the scenery.

 

For whatever she has, she’s got it in spades…

  Bad luck, love, even your name holds the Ace--

Alice! You were laced!

 

So one must practice patience 

in the absence of absinthe or medication,

because it's an ache you'll have to feel to believe.

And one must learn to wonder more

(but aspire to ask less questions).

Even if the specimen speaks, 

fight the temptation please.

Because even if the feline says he "feels fine",

there's a reason he's hiding in the trees, guaranteed.

And even when you knew they'd lie

you still listened to the tiger lilies..

So why that silly grin?!

It's a palace, Alice, and your ass isn't getting in.

You're floating in the moat and the drawbridge is closed

This is what you get for asking a rose what she saw.

And now you'd need a bone saw to hack through all the skulls they've lopped: Off.

So don't ask the locals how to swim. 

Because Even the crocs here will talk politics--

And don't flip a coin, just think:

"Could I really run away from all of this?"

No. Both pills will ruin you Alice!

You haven't any choice in the matter!

Until you succumb to the madness 

Or at least until you see the pattern:

That all heads must have a hatter.

As if one will make you larger than life,

but you might un-clot the clouds with your touch!

While the other makes you an ordinary housewife--

never even looking up..

So do not come in.

Wonderland is under new occupation And it's an artful martial-law.

Our dead and reddened nation painted by a blushed brush.

Aided by the rust's rush...

 

Alice, you ask too much!

Yet you've only just scratched the surface...

At least your reflection is hushed.

It's a looking glass after all, love ,

not a music box.


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