i once had a dream of sanguine-red roses;
pretty chinese girls striking fake 'peace' poses;
of rabbits who twitch their (cute!) little noses;
where buddha can laugh with muhammad and moses.
i remember, too, seeing in peripheral sight,
what might be misconstrued as bright shining light;
but, nay, 'tis not such, a will-o'-the-wisps,
instead 'twas a jabberwocky with no fists!
he came up to me, but could never quite focus,
upon his whole body, for his hocus pocus,
was truly unique, i lie to you not,
as truly and honest, as leaves, herbs and pot.
but, anyway, this is of minor import,
just like the fact that he drank much wine and port;
but never he seemed to be even tipsy,
or sad, or happy, or dispair or quite mimsy.
he said to me, 'hark! who does interlope?'
'upon my domain, of beauty and hope?'
'who dares here defile what i have kept true?'
'this is not place for you, you, you or you.'
he pointed his finger, menacing and straight,
directed and directing my very fate;
i bore little courage, puppies be my witness!
like persian kittens, i have reduced fitness.
and stifled a cough, i did muster true,
resounding in voice i asked 'who are you?'
'forgive my trespass, mean no disrespect,
i've come here by accident, to see and inspect,
the sublime realm that you have kept to yourselves;
'tis filled with gay faeries, bold sprites and bright elves.'
'that is none of your concern, mortal being,'
he sighed with a rumble, though what did it mean?
proceeded to banish me into the darkness,
of nightmares and terrors, haunting eerie madness.
and here i awoke, to find i'd passed out,
upon the cold floor, from punch, blow and clout;
upon my bare breast sat sinister vile imp,
who wore a black smile, his limbs all in limp;
he cackled a nefarious vile incantation,
which spoke of foreboding quiet contemplation.
i ventured an old, potent word of warding,
i was but too weak, t'was all i'm affording;
again the familiar's ominous laugh,
resounded with fury - i'd incurred its wrath!
but, solemnly worry, i'd not in the least -
he would not intimidate me, this foul beast;
so further i chanted my prayer, my salve;
only to find its effects half and halve.
though seemed the imp to grow much feeble, forlorn;
the echo was clear,
he's chanting along!i let out a whimper, he stopped, some respite;
i could not put up any form of a fight.
in jabberwocky i fatalistic trust;
in god, in dreams, in nightmares i must,
not forget to offer praise to the deities;
and hope for relent, compassion and pities.
or maybe i should appeal to this fiend;
from dogma and cliches, oh, i should be weaned;
but, nay! i shouldn't! hope does wait eternal;
one does not bargain and plea with these infernals.
so i lay in wait, resigned and morose,
in what future lies these hollow death throes?
and suddenly i am blinking awake,
'what's this', i think,
'have i cheated fate?'the cursed begone, no trace and no sight,
be banished, foul demon! be banished by light!
oh, joy, for the absence of ghost and of wight,
through window shines freedom, sun's warmth prevails bright!
to friends, and to foes, this listless, bored tale,
will serve a reminder when you're old and frail;
beware the jabberwocky, fringe 'pon his world not;
for fear of the devils, who wither and rot,
whomever would test and folly temptations,
then indulge in rudeness, excess exacerbations,
to you waits a gift, a pleasant short trip,
flay hips with sting whips, shrill cries and bit lips;
upon you, a curse, from which lies salvation,
in jars of moon gold dust, and ironic situations.
i leave you for now, i leave you with this: do ponder repercussions of dreaming so wander;
do not ask me how, seek not such false bliss - leave lone well alone, don't tarry or wonder.
