Alice is running in place again

present but absent in the bubble
bubbles come to the surface
all this surface area is lacking for my personal space
but the space between us is too far.
I dislike the faraway stares and listlessness
lists seem to fill the time but not the void.
I’d like to be void of all these questions
she’s questioning herself again of course
this course of action seems to be set in place
where is your place in this world?
worlds apart and she’s pacing again.
ask me that question again, make the words stop spinning.
please don’t spin those facts around in your own mind.
they tell you to mind your own business
but everyone is failing miserably at keeping the peace.
just a little peace of mind would be all it takes
but you’ve taken that with you into the woods and around the corner.
Pocahontas is just off waiting for what’s just around the river bend.
she seems to need to learn how to her her own stories and rules for a new day.
clear as day and night, black and white, this and that…
at least that’s what the Cheshire Cat has to say.

say what you will
but show it on your sleeve.
clean it up, wipe it off, dust it off.
your heart seems to still be beating,
maybe not in your chest anymore,
it seems to have migrated a little the right.
as we try to re-write the wrongs done to one another,
with a smile and the attempts of what love is.
we like our boxes and routines
and our animals do too
but the animal inside seems to want out of the cage you’ve put it in.

in and out, up and down, here we go around in circles again.
“If we can’t have this, we just can’t go on.”
the humans are restless, they want a new–
but what is that news cycle saying again?
let’s put it on mute and walk through the glass ceiling.
space dwindles as we finally become connected
but there’s blood on the shattered glass,
do we want to cross this threshold?
is this the right step?
or should we side swipe the whole situation?
A talks to B but Z is getting lonely all the way in the back by himself.
all he wants is a friend,
all he needs is a little connection.

connect, disconnect,
plug and unplug, try again.
Failure looks so much more menacing in the daylight.
his teeth seem to need a cleaning,
as does his body needs a wash.
take Failure out back and dispose of him.
“You forgot to say please.”

Distance is slowly distancing itself from her heart
and she’s wondering how it all pans out.
join and try, push and pull,
retreat and start a new.
all in all, it’s not wrapped in a little bow for you.
New doesn’t have a bell on her collar,
you’re going to have to go look for her.

new is old and old is new
but the cycle turns itself on the head,
up becomes down and wrong is right.
“Ah we’re in Wonderland again. I knew we’d end up here,”
Alice turns to the White Rabbit with a smile
but he’s already gone



Alice is at it again

down the rabbit hole we go,
twirling and spinning around.
I’m covered in dirt, aren’t I?
is it in my teeth too?
can you tell me the truth
or is my reflection lying again?
is it all smoke and mirrors
and a room full of steam?

she’s spinning and twirling
but this doesn’t look much like a dance at all.
it’s just a mess of letters and numbers.
is the code in here somewhere?
can we break the lock instead?
will it open the treasure chest for her
or simply grow a mouth to grin at her and laugh?

she’s stepping forward,
one muddy boot at a time,
the mad hatter is calling her name.
she might make a pit stop for a minute or a day.
this seems to be the party where the crazies are,
I like this party.
I belong here.

she sticks out a dirty hand forward to greet them,
but the mouse pipes up with a squeak
and then resumes his drowsy sounds.
the Mad Hatter has too much on his mind,
after all, his shoulders are getting a little heavy
carrying the weight of the world
or at least the weight of his ego,
in that big top hat of his.

she’ll twirl a little more
then it’s off to the races.
the flowers are talking again.
what radio station do we tune into to listen?
she’ll just watch them move their lips
in silence.
does she really need to hear it anyways?
it’s a much more fun game to make up the words anyhow.

is it lying if it’s not the truth
but it’s your idea of the truth?

Alice continues to fall
but this time it’s more of a float,
or so she thinks.
can anyone else witness this fall and tell?
can you she make up the tale to tell?
will the creatures share her secrets?
she smiles
and hopes for their friendship.

off to the forest of flowers
who hate her.
well, this was unexpected.
she traipses as quietly and quietly as possible.
“Let’s go talk to the caterpillar,
he seemed to have some ideas.”
all crazy
but hey, ideas are ideas.
she’ll take them.

let’s run against the tide
and see if we can stay dry.
this plan seems to be working very well
and by very well,
she means she’s soaked.
let’s set that on fire.
that’ll make it all better.
fire but dry.
it’s all just grand in the land of Wonderland.



shade & shadows

the world is in a state of shock
not of the awe in beauty of this world
but of the destruction
and how easily we create it from our own thoughts and words.
we shape the reality we live in
and we can hide just as easily that way.

control slips out the window
and down the rabbit hole
and Alice is left wondering, again.
is she going to do anything about the rabbit
that just seems to always be out of her grasp?
is this a task she is challenging herself to?
does someone else challenge her?
does it matter if anything changes?

does the earth shake if the sun doesn’t show up on that side of the country?
do the heavens question our decisions?
does anyone listen to Margaret in the quiet that she speaks
from off her bathroom floor?
is there light at the end of the tunnel
or simply no exit?
can Mary turn back around
and change her stars
or simply live with her choices?

what if love isn’t big enough
to cover the pain,
to contain it?
what if the fear is all consuming
and wakes you up at night with a start?
does the adrenaline push you in any direction
or are you floating in all directions
as your energy is expelled, transferred, and used up
all in what seems like an instant
but really is years upon years?

are the words enough to change
or evoke change
or to inspire?
can there be a change,
a positive one?
one of hope and a new light,
rather than darkness and confusion?

are you going to be that light?
can you be anything if the darkness seems to feel like a safe place to stay?
if the shade feels warm to the touch
because you’ve fooled your senses long enough
that hot is cold and cold is hot.
are you numbed to the realities that fall in front of your eyes?
can we stay numb?
should we stay in a place of isolation and under the palm tree leaves,
never venturing outside the shadows?

if a rat lives in the shadows
and only comes out in the light when starving,
what is a flower doing in the sewers
and how on earth is it surviving?


glitter or blood

pull back that curtain
put it back in its place
hide the shame and clenched teeth.
the wizard of oz isn’t a master of anything,
he’s just a boy
trying his darnedest to be good enough,
to something other than a disappointment.
he puts on a show
with sarcasm and a sharp tongue
but half truths are still half true.
his words drip with disdain and disgust for himself
mixed with arrogance to make up for it all.
it’s a potent drink,
a lethal combination in your glass.

the wizard of oz is just a boy.
he’s turning down the wrong path again
and will beat himself up again for it.
if you’re in his sights
you’ll take the wrath as well
but only when no one is watching.
no witnesses are best.
your crazy won’t hold up in court
and that’s exactly what he’s hoping for:
a sliver of doubt and mistrust in yourself.
he’ll find that crack in the dark of night
and pry it open with gentle words and a crowbar.

the wizard of oz likes his corners,
cutting them
and putting people in them.

the real heart of the tale is
why is Dorothy falling for these smoke and mirrors again?


mother goose

if the winds change
and we don’t know how to fly
where do we go
and how we get there?
if we don’t say it aloud,
does it not exist?
if you speak it forth
can you change your present
with the tip of your tongue?
if things are not as they seem
then what are we seeing?
if Humpty Dumpty didn’t have the urge
to sit on that wall,
who gave him the idea?
was it out of malicious intent
or a way to expand his perspective?
if like, love, and lust
sit on a ledge
who jumps off first
and do they make it safely to the bottom?


in the land of Oz, we think

the end of something,
the beginning of something new.
the woods seemed to want to claw and tear out my heart,
but maybe they were just trees swaying in the breeze.
maybe Thumbelina and the gnomes don’t have piercing eyes
but rather eyes wide in awe and hope.
maybe it’s all a perspective shift.
maybe it’s all in your head
as she screams into the wind.
maybe it’s all a step by step
rather then a running leap of faith across the Grand Canyon.
maybe we’ve all got the wrong idea
and it’s all just ideas, energies, and shared thoughts swirling around.
if you need my help and you don’t ask,
can I sense that?
if I stay silent but my thoughts are yelling,
does it appear on my face?
do we share souls or only moments?
if dichotomies exist to help us define,
can we speak to one another in a world of hundreds of languages?
can we boil this down to yes’s and no’s?
can we pull aside the curtain
and see the wizard of Oz pulling on our heart strings?


…all of the best people are

Alice waits in her box,
turning no handles,
not eating that “eat me” piece of cake
or that “drink me” poison of unknowns.
she stays in her box
and contains her emotions in another box
in front of her,
like Russian dolls fitting perfectly within the other.
it is all neat and tidy,
like she was taught.
the boxes would remain stacked,
balancing in the shade.
she would hope the order
would keep it all together,
the control would amount to a smile
but it wasn’t until she met all the crazies in Wonderland
that she found her smile,
a few tears too
that flooded the oceans,
but the emotions flew out of the tiny box
like a bat out of hell.
the Queen taught her punishment and rules,
but the Mad Hatter taught her to stop
and smell the roses and speak to the mice.
the Cheshire Cat gave her chills
but reminded her of her own grin.
the Caterpillar questioned her spelling
but showed a whole new perspective.

too many creatures to learn them all in a day,
so she would stay underground
for just a little bit longer.
she’d catch the White Rabbit
one of these days,
but for now she’d fluff her skirts
sit down on the green grass
and breathe it all in.

no mock turtle soup today
but maybe tomorrow she’d dance with the daisies
or maybe they’d eviscerate her again,
who knows,
who cares.
let’s spend this moment in silent peace
with the worries blowing away in the breeze.