Bliss

Alice shakes her dress
A kind of bliss
Hair wild and free
She runs down the hole
Licks the blood from her fingers
The music plays
A discordant tune
Sleep comes
Dreams thick and rich
The frost lines the pavement
We wait
Wash our face
Drink coffee in the pale blue light
All an adventure
Alice shakes her dress
A kind of bliss.

Tree

We sit beneath the burdock tree
Lost stumps
And willow
Child like voices
Silver unrest
A brother in the nursery
We are lost
Like eggs boiling in the night
We sing and drive
Find the corn spray
A breeze
Misty and attentive
We run under skies
Sit beneath the burdock tree.

Winter

Winter wraps her cool fingers around my throat
A breeze and lifting
We take our stand
A firm hand
A steady rudder
All around us is noise
We hold our head between our knees
All is clam
All is well
We watch the words fall on the paper
Winter wraps a cool finger.

Wisdom

It is a stale kind of wisdom
Salty tears dripping in the night
All around us is electricity
A charge which resonates deep within
We coil our feet
Have a bitter longing for time
The leaves are dead and green
They line the ground
We walk over the same sites
Pick at the old wounds
Take the needle in our hands
It is a false charm
We sink and wave
All a class
Ripped clothes
Youth dwindling
A tart taste upon our lips.

Abundance

The leaves at our feet are rich and golden
We trample through them with the eagerness of new-borns
Scoop the moonlight in our pockets
Gobble down the stars
Night time is an abundance of riches
We savour each one as if it is our last
Morning comes with a wave of disappointment
We like the dreams
The places sleep takes us to the edges to
It feels real
Although we know it is not
We wait for the powder
Look out the window
Count our fingers and toes
Nothing comes quickly enough
Soon the leaves will wear away and cold winds will wrap around our shoulders
We will wait for winter too
As long as we can think
There will be an abundance of magic.

Afternoon

We spend lazy afternoons lying still on the bed
If we don't move nothing bad will happen
It is hot
We take sips of peppermint tea
Crush the ice between our teeth
The leaves have fallen off the tree
They make a fragile carpet we tip toe through
Silent
Observed
Always waiting for him
The Red Queen took me in her arms
Told me to smile
I look in the mirror
Try to
What looks back is both familiar and new
A shock of scars
And wasted afternoons.

Mood

We take a look from the shelf
Drink the tea
Crush the cardboard into the hole
Wonder what an end may look like
We take turns
Make strange patterns in the night
Go wherever the will may take us
All just pieces
Part of a tube
We hit our head
Try to change our mood
All an act of revenge
A charged weapon
We sing quiet songs in the café
Alter what we think
Forget what's in between.

Hatter

Hatter doffs his cap
I wonder if he take it off when he sleeps
His stride is purposeful
I walk behind him
All just a circle and a song
He stops for tea
There is no mouse in the tea pot
Just a strong aroma of leaves and time
He drinks it slowly
No rush
No hurry
I am always busy
Falling down the rabbit hole
Brushing powder from our feet
I will stay a while in the story
It is better there than real
In my mind is a thousand dreams
She holds my hand throughout the night
I will wake up when I am ready
All just a cycle and a story
Take off your hat and speak
But then the magic disappears.

The Owl

The owl waits patiently on the branch
Its head full of songs
Trills and arpeggios
We bow in anticipation
Wipe the dander from the sheets
Blow clouds out of the window
We catch its eye
It is jet black
Like a marble shining in the night
Head twisted
Feathers dusted
We listen for its melody
Catch the light
Hold onto it like pebbles
Talons stretched
Beak sharp and primed
The owl has a thousand stories
We listen to it quietly and carefully
Rest a while on the branch
If we could have a thousand dreams
The owl would carry us home.

Clouds

We dance and prance amongst the clouds
All just a fight we bring to the table
We speak of loss and leave
The crowds delight
It is a tumult of time
Such a waste
We take a deep breath
Find our balance
We want to write our story
But we fall short
Not enough words in the bank to pepper and spray the page
We choose a route that makes it hard to breathe
Water falls through the ceiling
We dare not move
Instead we tune in our head to the sound of our own song
Dance and prance amongst the clouds
Make do and mend
Dream and fancy
All just a story we write and play.

Balance

The white pages
Scream a song
We are balanced in the in between place
A thousand powder passes our lips
The gate crashes
All about us is falling down
We take a shot
And another
Numbers barely make a difference now
Count them in
Count them out
We wash in cool water
Let the waves lap our feet
Wait a while
The air is tranquil
Balanced.