Mirror mirror on the wall, hanging there so silently, can you see me here at all, or do you stand in awe of me?
See my skin as white as snow, see my smile as sharp as thorn, behind my lips so rosy red, a beauty grown, but never born.
My people love me, as they might, they laud my beauty and my grace, adore my hair as black as night, and see in me my mother’s face.
Mothers ash is buried deep, beneath the sacred Rowan tree, but should I cry beneath its shade, I hear her voice still speak to me.
Blood red tears soak through the ground, nourishing the thirsty earth, and whispering the leaves take voice, echoes of her cruel mirth.
Stepmother, fear me as you should, for though you may have fathers ring, tis I who owns his beating heart…in me, the conscience of the king.
Huntsman with your sharpened knife, you track me for the queen so good, a single kiss and you are mine, amazed amidst the darkened wood.
The beating heart, unlike my own, ensconced within a box of gold, and carried to stepmother dear, a tragic tale will soon be told.
By animals in forest deep, my body torn too much to save, the heart the only evidence, to lay beside my mother’s grave.
From kitchen knave to scullery maid, soon all in mourning deep will be, whilst I move through them whisper soft, feeding on the tragedy.
And then, replete, I’ll slip away, down to the caverns dark and deep, far from the biting of the sun, where spirits howl and duergar creep.
There among the little men, I’ll sleep until I thirst again, then waken, smiling in my bliss, to share again my blood red kiss.
Alice in blue jeans, my rabbit-hole child,
blue hair and blonde eyes and an icicle smile,
how in the world did you steal my heart, while constantly staying that one step apart?
Alice in blue jeans, my looking glass girl,
here in a flash and gone in a whirl.
Always arriving, but never to stay,
time after time you must be on your way,
how do I catch you and hold you so tight that your icicle smile melts into delight?
Where do I live, what is my pride,
What is this tickle that burrows inside?
The howling at night when the loneliness calls,
the whisper that screams down behind the white walls?
How do I find it, the place I belong,
do I follow my heart,
do I follow a song?
Do I search for a scrap of rhyme scrawled by a cloud,
or something my heart begins screaming out loud?
I’m lost in the maelstrom of “present” and “now”,
in time rushing past, can I stop it somehow?
Can I hold the years still, though the waters are strong, and finally return to the place I belong?
Lost in the whirlwind,
staring back through the years,
do I answer my heart song or follow my fears?
Spread my mind and guard my soul,
the me that is and always will be,
help my roots grow deep and wide
and may you always shelter me.
May you dance with every breeze,
delight the eye with every sway,
train my mind to hear and teach
the wisdom you impart each day.
Take my voice to be your song,
through street and inner-city school,
let your shelter shade their minds
and temper heat with dappled cool.
Take my words to sing your praise,
and fill the ear with endless green,
until their hearts can grow again,
until their life and yours run clean.
The mirror me has other eyes,
I meet them, not from vanity,
Dark they are, and umber hued,
The color of insanity.
Pinned like a butterfly I stand,
Meeting that endless gaze,
Till terrified I wrench away,
And dash into the maze.
The path before me twists and turns,
All distance an illusion,
At every bend another choice,
Each step ends in confusion.
The Sound of Madness watches me,
Her mocking gaze surrounds me,
Laughing as I stumble past,
And walls of glass confound me.
sister, sister, tell me true,
what I ever did to you,
stretch your hand to save me here,
and you may have my sweetheart dear.
I will have your sweetheart, true,
but never will I rescue you,
my hand outstretched will never be,
for sake of what you’ve done to me.
sister, sister, tell me why,
I see my murder in your eye,
what e’er I’ve done I’ll make amends,
and you and I shall live as friends.
Never shall I stretch my hand,
to help you safe up to dry land,
though it may be hard to see,
I’ll think of what you’ve done to me.
sister, sister, tell me here,
is it of my sweetheart dear,
I will forsake him, for your sake,
and you his hand may surely take.
it is about your sweetheart, aye,
whom you love half as much as I,
and though on me he has yet frowned,
he’ll turn to me once you are drowned.
sister, sister, save me, please,
and I will swear on bended knees,
that you a bride will shortly be,
and I no more shall envy thee.
I will not save thee, sister mine,
though your prayers are sweet and fine,
this stream will bear you out to sea,
and you no more will bother me.
sister, sister, hear me now,
my curse on you I hereby vow,
you may well have my sweetheart true,
but this black deed you soon will rue.
sister, when you take my man,
try to hold him if you can,
his faithless heart will ne’er be true,
and this last thing I do to you.
I remember the scratch of the wall at my back and my cheek when I woke up. The cool soft of its solid made me smile.
Sky bits decorated my warm paper cloak, melding faces and words, facts and lies, all into one soft shell that hugged me tight.
The sky fell and fell and fell, a tympani of pain in jungle green and neon blue. I looked for her, and the grin crawled onto my face with spider toes.
She crouched over the pond that feet had made on the step, squeezing tiny fish from the colors in her hair.
Each little brightness grew as it fell toward the pond, and landed with a splish of color and sound, before sprouting teeny fragile wings and flying away into the falling sky.
She wasn’t smiling. She never smiled. But her two-tone blue and green eyes twinkled like jewels as she followed each of her creations up and up and up.
She glanced at me, and nodded, as her dirty fingers worked another once-bright neon rainbow plait of hair, releasing another spark of color to its journey.
“They’re only going back…” She said. “Soon you will too.” She looked away, but a crooked smile twitched her lips, for just a moment.
Her voice knife rasped through my brain, and I shivered, and coughed. “Oh.” I said, and watched until the last scrap of color faded into sky.
how many miles to bethlehem
three-score years and ten,
you can get there by candle-light
but you’ll never come home again.
the walls are mirror covered,
in the room inside my head,
sprinkled with manic laughter
and eyes of glowing red.
the eyes are the window of the soul,
or so the proverbs say,
mine open on a burning hell
of discord and decay.
chaos is my normal,
normal is a curse,
sanity is stifling,
and boredom ten times worse.
my laughter smells of lightning,
and color-coded shame,
my face a demons beauty,
my heart an angels game.
look deep into my eyes and see
the mirror crazed within,
razor sharp glass shards that swirl
and swell beneath my skin.
This one is for…well, it’s pretty obvious, actually. He’s a pretty remarkable little guy who’s touched a lot of hearts when he shows up with his mommy, here at Palm Gardens rehab. So enjoy, or not, but no matter what…this one’s for
little Shadow, dog of light,
with silken coat in pearly white,
never cautious, always bold…
as long as there are arms to hold.
You share your boundless love,
with those who need it most,
cuddled in the lap or arms
of any willing host.
Shadow is your name, but still
you walk in beams of light,
sent from gentle loving eyes,
through swiftly fading sight.
you warm the coldest room,
make soft the hardest heart,
with antics meant to draw the eye,
you play your biggest part.
laughter is a healing gift,
within these painted halls,
and watching you, the laughter peals,
and shakes these solemn walls.
little Shadow, precious boy,
give your love and take our joy,
a present from the grateful few
whose aging hearts were warmed by you.