I often think
In darker times
It's pointless toil
Creating rhymes
For what do rhymes
Achieve, and such?
Perfection strives
For words to clutch
Some faint idea
Some headlocked chat -
It smiles, then fades
Like Cheshire Cat
Chasing thought
Down rabbit hole
Succeed or fail
No heads will roll
From bitter world
To jammy tart
Where sweetness lives
In printed heart
No grumpy queen
No neckline threats
Beguiling words
This soul begets
Perhaps, in time
Simplistic notion
Can be transformed
With the right potion
Perhaps, if time
Allows, we will
Through heartfelt words
Our dreams fulfill
Mad as a hatter is a phrase that came naturally about
In the eighteen hundreds hatmakers were going insane
Using mercuric nitrate, which removed skin from pelts
A poison that had them acting funny, going postal
Another phrase that came along much later
In deference to postal workers who went insane
From the mundane repetitiveness of their jobs.
I feel the monster's ravenous intent slide down the lump in my throat,
As my mere existence is waning comparably, I slowly begin to lose hope
What once was a warm and loving embrace from a truth that was solid as gold
Now's only ashes in shackles and freckled with lies that are waiting to be told
The pain of it all sends my consciousness wandering places it's meant not to be
So I sat at the table where the Mad Hatter'd waited and we talked over a cup of fresh tea
When the party was over I tried to recover the loss Hatter'd help me elude
I was soon to discover, though I'd n'er love another, our love was too deep to exhume
Though all efforts failed, I still tried to prevail, for the Moon, she still lives in my eyes
Lighting paths to be seen by the less-than-pristeen, filled with pain that they try to disguise
So send all the Angels and demons alike to all places you think I might be
But catch me you won't-I'll remain here alone in my deep, dark, and empty black sea
What a fashionable day to be in Wonderland!
quaffing a piping mug of peppermint tea
clamped into my manic hands
sprinkled in three spoons of
that sticky, drippy powder of craziness
with a side of derangement tarts
served on a golden platter
all I need to balance my appetite
for keeping my soul content
with this fairy tale madness!
What if the mad hatter is not mad at all?
This was asked by two people I met in the hall
What if he is the sane one, and crazy are we?
I thought about it a second and said “make that three”.
I have met the craziest mad hatter of all.
Is he mad? Is he bad? Is he goofy? Is he tall.
He is a shrimp with bad teeth, and he is small.
Does he do weird things? Is he a bell of the crazy bird ball?
This hater is Celtic, mystical, and was born in a caul.
He is a distant cousin of the Biblical characters Saul and Paul.
He sounds normal said the other. Will he be around in the fall?
He is here now, but invisible, said my imaginative cousin, Mal.
Mad hatter rabbit, down, down down, in the the hole of time,
round, round, around the clock tells us lies,
jump in the middle of the abyss
Forget all the people that you won't miss,
down, down down, Mad rabbit you lost your mind,
The center of a clock can never be described,
We are all mad down here,
We lost our minds,
Follow like Alice did,
in, once upon a time.
The hard rumor followed me out the door
Down the hill and past the grapefruit store
I could not believe it, was it forevermore?
The rumor said mad hatter had left for summer shore.
What about his cat? Asked one who loved gore.
Is it okay? Did a raven eat it up past its core?
The cat is fine, said my uncle Livermore.
The rumor has no merit, it is insane folklore.
Crazy hatter rode a fluffy sheep to London Town
Ready to create hats for everyone all around.
His subjects were excited, thrilled, tickled, and wound.
For they had never had a hatter in London Town.
Crazy, Psycho, Mad,
Craziest we have ever had,
Tall hat,
Matted hair like a rat,
Speakes in riddles,
With everything he fiddles,
Hands constantly moving,
Brain fast-moving,
Tea's his fav,
About everything he'll rave,
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
I was sitting on the wall
And I suffered a great fall
Stupid horses came around
Couldn’t see me on the ground
Then of course, Kings men attend
None of them knew how to mend
They kicked off my pieces, scattered
Left me lying ruined, shattered
Then Mad Hatter picked my bits
Took me home in paper sheets
Glued me thoroughly, with care
And his company, March Hare
Treated me with jasmine tea
Which the Dormouse brewed for me
Sitting in a comfy bowl
I won’t try another fall
I’m recovered from that stroke
But those Kings men, what a joke
I was lucky to get Hatter
With the mind that’s over matter
Now I’m living like a king
Chapped, but still a precious thing.
Frankly my dears, I had never met a mad hatter in real life
He claimed to be the maddest for he was angry with his wife.
I tried to listen, but he was totally unreasonable with me.
Insisting he was too angry to listen, he was belligerent you see.
I tried to get away, but he never stopped talking.
I know it’s not polite, but I finally ran away from his squawking.
Have you met the maddest hatter? Someone asked the next day.
Yes, I have I admitted, and I quickly got away.
In Hatter's garden, roses speak.
But, of course, as the Queen of Flowers,
roses are pretty prideful. Red with passion,
these roses command, Allowing not a word of opposition.
Such regal beings are worthy of royalty.
On the other hand, a cat, such as I, dare not be a jester,
Or receive a bouquet lovely enough for a Queen.
Indeed, a garden of red roses is for a Queen alone.
They may mock me, but soon they shall see
I never wanted them to simply agree.
I don't have to always be right, not necessarily.
I just want them to realize all this time I could see
The truth of the matter in this reality
And the lies they impose upon us inhumanely.
He is not THE mad hatter, but rather the tea pouring mad hatter.
What is the difference? I asked. The ghosts made a clatter.
He’s crazy like the other, but he does not incessantly chatter.
And he pours tea into soups, sandwiches, and raw chocolate batter.
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