Somewhere midst the wise kings,

talking animals and magical rings,

reality entwined with fantasized wings.

Words got lost. Lost, were the meanings.


Lost the magic of joyful rhymes,

meaning of love and lettered lines.

Of poisoned apples , and sour grapevines,

Of the golden eggs and mythical signs.


Did the forty thieves steal all the love?

Or did Jack forget it in the clouds above?

Tell me Alice,

Who snatched the olive from the dove?


Bears are dead of Goldilocks’ times old.

The beds are hard. the porridge, cold.

Gone are elves of the shoemaker old,

murdered along the seers who foretold.


The boy who cried wolf, now whines,

it’s not the wolf, it’s the changing times.

Forever now, the cheshire cat sublimes,

and the white queen dies. Worldly paradigms!

None’s left for the stories of suppertime.

Empty are the caves, not a coin’s chime.


Ant seems fool and grasshopper clever,

died the fairy-tales that screamed ‘forever‘!

No potion can fix it. None’s endeavor.

No knight came. None will ever.

Whoever. Whenever. However.