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Daily Archives: May 12, 2014

Dunking the Mouse

Dunking the Mouse

Dunking the Mouse, Oh, Dunking the Mouse,
What can be better than dunking the Mouse?
Be it with a fine friend like the Rabbit, so stout,
Or on my old lonesome, I love dunking the Mouse.
.
I open the pot and stick his head in,
And before he’s awoken he’s half the way in.
With Rabbit a-helping, we finish the job,
Then put the lid on, though Mouse is beginning to sob.
.
‘Oh please let me out’, he implore us, so meek,
But why should we do that when the tea tastes so sweet?
‘Oh give me a cup of that heavenly brew’,
Says Rabbit to me, ‘and a jam tart for you’.
.
I pour out two cups and we sit down anew,
With the tea and the tarts – and with Mouse in the brew,
Until Alice strolls by, and unsettles our ruse,
Saving Mouse from his fate and us from the noose.

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Sugar; one lump or two?

Sugar; one lump or two?

I am a poor mouse, it said sadly to her,
A very poor mouse, you can tell by my fur,
So ragged and reek, split ends I am sure,
I am a poor mouse – will you confer?
.
Yes, you are a poor mouse, Alice dryly replied,
An abysmally poor one – can I take you aside?
For the Hatter, so mad, is searching for you,
To stuff into his pot with its heavenly brew.
.
Oh I am lost, the mouse cried out in shock,
The Hatter, so mad, wants me inside his pot,
And the Rabbit, so white, with his blackest of souls,
Will keep you in there ‘til you’ve expired – so I’m told.
.
What can I do – oh, Alice, please help,
Save my life, my moth eaten old pelt.
I cannot save you, for the Hatter and Rabbit are here,
And I am so thirsty – where’s your pot my old dears?
.
The pot it is here, the Hatter and Rabbit replied,
Quick, squeeze him inside, that’s where he’ll reside,
Amidst the tea leaves, mixed up with the brew,
The Mouse will make history. Sugar; one lump or two?

*

 

 

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Alice and the White Rabbit

The Mad Conversation

Flummoxed by the Rabbit, Alice said, “I bet you are mad!”
“That all depends,” he replied.
“It all depends on what?”
“On whether you mean mad or mad.”
“That’s silly,” said Alice. “They mean the same thing.”
“If you were mad number one,” the Rabbit explained, “and someone happened to tell you that you were mad number two, you might be very mad indeed at so fundamental a mistake.”
“But I’m not mad!” she insisted.
“How do you know,” asked the Rabbi, “when you can’t tell the difference between mad number one and mad number two, I might ask?”
“I just know that I’m not mad!” Alice insisted. Informing him that another door had appeared, she awaited his response.
The Rabbit tried to open the door but he was unable to do so.
“Might I try?” Alice asked.
The Rabbit said nothing, but his pink, beady eyes watched her intently.
The door opened easily for Alice. “Could a mad person have done that?” she asked. Stepping through, she fell into a hole on the far side.
“No, they mightn’t,” he replied. “But would they have fallen down there?” Then, jumping into the hole, he followed Alice.

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The day the weather went mad

The day the weather went mad

Was a day I thought I had been had,

By a weather extreme; quite obscene,

The day the weather went mad.

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Posted by on May 12, 2014 in humor, humour, poems

 

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No Trespassing

The Crazymad writer in black

No trespassing, that’s what the words read,
No trespassing, it’s what the sign said,
As I approached the gate upon which it was on,
The words, no trespassing, dared me to come on.

*

A voice in my head told me to ignore it, that sign,
It said there was something exciting to find,
In the field behind them, gate and its sign,
Are you afraid, the voice asked, or do you think I am lying?

*

No, I am not afraid, I answered it back,
My gut feeling, though, tells me to shy away from this tack,
Are you man or a mouse? It said mocking me so,
I am a man, I answered, a man on the go.

*

So I climbed over the gate and stepped into that field,
A green, luscious sward that was ever so still,
Seeing nothing at all, there, other than grass,
I wondered, yes wondered, where it was at.

*

Suddenly, startlingly, I heard a snort and a wheeze,
Then I saw it, a bull galloping towards me,
So I darted away from it as fast as I could,
And clambered back over that gate made of wood.

*

The moral of my story, my scary story, is this,
When out in the country give gates a miss,
Don’t listen to voices inside your head,
Stick to your gut feeling, it’s safer, instead,

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I don’t care WHAT you call me

as long as you enjoy reading y stories

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Posted by on May 12, 2014 in poems

 

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Africa, Africa, land of dark nights

Africa, Africa, land of dark nights,
Home of the many, home of the right,
A people once voiceless will have their time in the sun,
When prosperity follows and wars are all done.
*
Hunger and famine will be a thing of the past,
Dictators forgotten – Who were they? You ask,
The days will be brighter, that’s how it will be,
In Africa, Africa, the land of the free.

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Posted by on May 12, 2014 in Africa, poems

 

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