In the alleys of mirrors, reflections stare back with faces I've yet to covet. The cacophony of screams and whispers, a post-coital slack-jawed pause, the aftermath of endless nights and getting lost in vorpal holes of unwritten rules. Where pornographers masquerade as poets, sacrificing Eros on the altar of analysis. I squirm on the auto-da-fé of your ardor, land of disco balls and dementia shops, every step a temptation to drown in this make-believe proposition — lost prostitute histrionics downslope. Where lies persons end of having no escapes— ?
In vacancy lots of mind haste, I find a faze in the scars of my past memories, ghosts of my mistakes, the lingerings of taste and lust. They're the only constant in this toxic haze, the only truth I can hold onto.
Categories:
vorpal, art, deep, depression, feelings,
Form: Free verse
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.
Categories:
vorpal, poetry, tribute, word play,
Form: Rhyme
Dear God, May all cardinals be red
May the pope be Catholic
Bless bishops and their pointy heads
May their coffee come in cups
Filled to the brim with liquid
Caffeine free until Thy kingdom comes
Until the end of time or sooner
May Thy will be done, Amen
Dear God, keep us free from sin
From Kardasians,
(perhaps a skin disease?)
Please protect us from the sleazy
From carbonated drinks with bubbles
And all other troubles as seen on TV
If it be your will dear Lord
May I have a Vorpal sword
The one that goes snicker-snack
To slay the evil dragon Jabberwocky
Dead or even deader than that
For ever and ever more, Amen
Categories:
vorpal, conflict, god, mystery, prayer,
Form: Free verse
The Jabberwock, the Jabberwock,
Beware, beware the Jabberwock!
When you be out in forest deep,
Secure in bed, awake, asleep,
Protected by superiority,
Cloaked within seniority,
Thinking you safe in your encampment,
It comes with magic and with enchantment;
It flies aflame through forest trees
And sweeps up idle employees.
Not one will prove to be saveable;
All will prove quite microwaveable.
And, though your troops be sore mismatched,
Though none return who be dispatched
To meet and fight this host chimeric,
The VORPAL BLADE, from times barbaric,
May yet defeat this beast malevolent;
In the end may prove prevalent.
So those of us who’s seen its eyes,
Those of us who are familiarized,
Who’ve smelt its horrid pungency,
Will waive our normal consultant’s fee
And offer you a special deal:
One vorpal sword, for just a steal.
Categories:
vorpal, humorous,
Form: Rhyme