Jabberwocky

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought–
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

by Lewis Carroll (Charles L. Dodgson)
From Through the Looking-Glass, 1871

Demon Heart

Shallow souls

The torment I feel inside is only equaled by the tears I’ve cried.

Passionate embrace of old still burns white hot but seems ice cold.

It tears at my heart and rips bleeding chunks from my soul.

Why can’t I walk away?

Please comfort me with lies that all will be okay…

I can no longer tread the path of the dead.

I must exhume myself from this pit of sorrows grave.

Dirt under my nails as I claw at the cage above,

Screams of determination mixed with pain, and love.

As the breath of life brings a fire to my eye

The sinews of flesh animate this dead mans cry

It comes in waves and I ready myself for this fight.

The hairs on my neck at attention as I stay my ground till morning light

The approaching enemy like a fool to slaughter continues its advance.

I bury myself in rage and release this hypnotic trance.

My confidence is not misplaced.

I see red

As blood flows down my face, but not my own.

Penance you cannot afford as I destroy what you sought to steal from me.

You can’t kill what’s already dead.

And the life you thought you had is now hanging by a thread

You beg

Don’t look at me with sorrows eyes it won’t buy you any time

Feel sorry for yourself and not for me you can’t bind that which is free

Remorse is not given to thee how fitting that you still can’t see

That it’s liquid black and empty in the pool of shallow souls

(C) David Cole