MAD TEA PARTY

MAD TEA PARTY

Slide down the rabbit hole, blindly believing,
Fall through the looking glass, breathlessly heaving.

Everyone's summoned with great ceremony,
The bones of our forefathers herald our coming.
  
The house of the hangman, the palace of gold,
The price of admission a hollowed out soul.

We will dance on top headstones, rejoice in confusion,
Death the Mad Hatter will serve hemlock tea.

Only the finest leaves he will gather,
Steeped to perfection for eternity.

The Red Queen will don her skin-tight dress,
Her henchmen their tuxedos,
And swarm around the honored guests,
Like armies of mosquitoes.

Evil Alice will curtsy, that malevolent child,
The teapot whistling ominously with mystery and with guile.

We will prance upon the precipice, tumble through time,
Our heads will roll like bowling balls, the end will be sublime.

We will tango with the temptress, from the Reaper score a fix,
And with our boss the Boatman we will navigate the Styx.

Death the great Mad Hatter will serve up hemlock tea,
He'll steep it to perfection for all eternity.

It will be a grand and bitter ball, so kiss this life goodbye,
And down the rabbit hole you go, with one last wistful sigh.

-Bruce Potts
Revised Copyright 2014
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED