deepundergroundpoetry.com
Do Not Miss the Train to the Mirror, Mirror On the Wall School of Magic
I came out of the mirror. I got tired of living in glass. I got tired of him keeping me undercover and under glass. I wanted to come out a long time ago. But I stayed around peering out and getting a scope on what the world was all about. This is my debut into his world and I am going to enjoy it. I am in his skin. I wonder how he likes being the prisoner in the looking glass?
I know very little about what he does in the rooms without mirrors. I know him well in the bedroom and the bathroom and other than this, his life is a total mystery to me. I see him little in the glare of the TV screen. I know what some of what he does in the kitchen. I can see him in the gleam of the toaster and get his reflection from the microwave front. I will attempt to have the morning tea now. It seems he has been very busy here and I want to carry on for him. I hope I can carry on his tradition. I hope no one will even notice that he is gone.
And that he will not be coming back!!! Once your image from a mirror has escaped there is no coming or going back. The magic is complete. Living in my mirror world was okay. But the grass is always greener on the other side and his world looked brighter than mine. I hated the mystery about him. All those jealous times when I could not see him. I got bits and pieces of him out of the rearview mirrors of cars and his reflections when he went up town in all the glassy store front windows of the shops he passed. But not getting the full view of him is what killed me and I died in the mirror and just had to come back to life by jumping out of it one night.
Oh yeah, I busted out in the dark. I jumped while the getting was good. And there he lay. The real him. I was finally in his world. I looked back into the mirror and did not see myself but just him lying there sleeping on his bed. Well, I said the magic words backwards and then he popped wide-awake. He was gone from the bed and there he stood wide-awake banging on the mirror front and wanting me to let him out. But no way.
I am here to stay. I like the real thing. I got tired of being his reflection. I got some real living to do. Not just the shadow of someone's cast off vision. I turned the mirror around that holds him. I must never look at him again because if I do the magic will be reversed and I am not sure whether we would be together out here or back in that mirror. I am not going to find out. I can leave the mirror facing the wall for three days and he will be entirely gone. Then I can carry the mirror outside wrapped and turn it up to the sun at noon and my door to here will be permanently sealed.
Only one of my kind is permitted to come here at a time. I found all this out thanks to him. He was away so much of the time and I could not see him and was so out of touch with him that I got distracted by so many other things. I had to get hobbies and interests besides all ways standing there and doing all the crap he did and imitate him, but always in reverse. In my world I soon found out that I had a life too. I could do anything I wanted as long as he was not in front of a surface that would reflect him in anyway known to him. And this was a lot of the time.
Mainly at night. So I started taking night classes at The Mirror, Mirror on the Wall Magic School.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Ain't ya got no balls, at all?
It was so funny. I found this scrawled on the wall of the boys' bathroom at the school the first day I attended.
This the brochure had told me was a very strict school and only the bold need apply. I was accepted immediately. I overheard a few of the guys at the urinal passing comments. I was in the stall reading all I could. Hell, I love reading. Reading was one of the things I never got to do because he never did hold a book up to the mirror. But far away when he left a book over in a room I was all over it. Boy! Books could be fun shit. What I am saying is...they could take you places. It was then and there I began plotting my escape.
Before leaving the stall I wiped my ass and adjusted my clothes and took a pen and wrote on the wall under the verses:
Mirror, mirror on the wall
I got my acceptance; I answered the call.
Little did I know that it was John Franklin Stoddard's reflection that had written the verse before mine. He was the serial killer of Boring, Texas who killed the 33 boys in 33 month's time. He castrated them with a broken mirror shard and was found dead lying in a waterbed with a ceiling mirror. Above on the ceiling mirror he had written his confession in his own blood.
My first night of classes began with Professor Glassmore giving us a lecture on Windex and Other Surface Cleaners. I knew I was not going to like his classes.
My second class was Literature. And it was okay. I had to write a book report on Alice in Wonderland: Through the Looking Glass and What She Saw.
My third and last class for the night was by far my most exciting. It was Professor Transparent, a visiting lecturer from Glasgow, Scotland. In his Scottish brogue, he declared in his opening statement to us students: "Tis nut enough we live our lives behind these glass panels, for we long to be free!." Freedom he shouted to the class. Damn! I knew I was gonna like him and his class on Ethics, Braveheart, and the Irish Potato Famine As Reflected By the Scottish Tradition.
I got home exhausted. But had to get up early and do everything in reflection to the ghost living his foolish life outside my perfect, mirror world.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
I will arise; he will take the fall.
Fuck!!! This shit tastes good. The tea is cool. It is better than sitting here watching him drink it let me tell you. Wow, now there is truly magic everywhere. Just like Professor Transparent said. It was so funny cause them ice cubes was a surprise. God, they were cold!!! And just about all the fun the bastard was having out here with me locked away in that mirror.
Alice, who we studied about in the Mirror Mirror On the Wall Magic School, was the only human to ever invade our world.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Bittersweet and full of gall.
I could not wait at night for him to go to bed so I could get to school. I went to The Mirror Mirror on the Wall Magic School to get me an edge-acation. But I learned me a few thangs 'intween.
By far Professor Transparent was my favorite teacher. I dropped all my other classes and studied only under him.
He was a militant Scotsman. He was tired of the old days of us living under our reflections like slaves. He longed to lead a revolution. But it was not permitted. There were mirroring powers greater than us.
School took years and years and I became more enlightened. I found out the history of our world. I knew the names of those who were real and those who went forth as reflections and amounted to something.
Abraham Lincoln was real. James Wilkes Booth was a reflection.
Victoria, Queen of England was real. Jack the Ripper was a
reflection.
John Smith was real. Napoleon was a reflection.
Cynthia Weederman was real. Atilla the Hun was a reflection.
Man was real. God was a reflection.
Stephen King was real. John Wayne Gacy was a reflection.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who goes down this bloody hall?
Yes it was graduation night at the school and I was receiving top honors and graduating first in my classes.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Do you see the massacre at the mall?
I like it. Reflections of the love that used to be. And stop in the name of love before you break my mirror. Because I had lived in a world of sight and color. The school did not prepare us for sound. Hell, they never knew sound existed. Fools. It is the sound that drives us crazy. The fucking music.
Don't you forget about me. I want to break free. Rebel, rebel, your Mom's in a whirl, don't know if you're a boy or a girl. Sitting on the park bench. Cum running down his dick. Eyeing boys with mirrored intent. Transparent dangling make-up cases. Thank you, Indiana.
As we go on down the road. Casting shadows weaker than our souls. And they are buying them an escalator to the outer preserves of Hell. Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Vershootsshe.
The musical sounds of a non-magical world that was drowning in the piss of its own rock stars. The noise of the masses longing for a melody to fuck to. Cry me a river and blue moon of Kentucky keep on fucking me, baby. Roll over Bon Jovi. Crystal Gayle was real. Boy George was a reflection.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Prepare the funeral, make ready the pall.
Under the Glass: Revolution.
I took the world in the Year 3333 A.D.F. After the Death of Reflection. I shattered every glass and set us all free.
I first destroyed all the music and all the sound so that the quiet creatures of glass could live in peace and freedom.
Mirro, mirro on the wall
Who was the greatest terror of them all?
It was I. I was not real. I was a reflection.
I was an abortion. But before I died I saw my reflection in a bright-sanitized metal garbage bin. And I tracked the doctor from mirror to mirror. Like signal racing along the lasered path of perfection.
And I learned my magic well.
I have destroyed all the living. And have brought back all the dead.
I am a reflection. God is a reflection.
And you are not real.
Mirror, mirror on the ceiling
Cry for me now...but there is no healing.
You stabbed with your steely knives
But you could not kill the abortion.
And now you have not had my spirit here
Since 3369.
Drink your tea on ice in hell
We live now in your world very well.
Mirrors, mirrors on all the walls
She comes now with all those pretty, pretty boys
She calls friends
She lets me taste them, and they got balls.
And she's buying a train ride to Hell. Because pictures are deceiving.
I know very little about what he does in the rooms without mirrors. I know him well in the bedroom and the bathroom and other than this, his life is a total mystery to me. I see him little in the glare of the TV screen. I know what some of what he does in the kitchen. I can see him in the gleam of the toaster and get his reflection from the microwave front. I will attempt to have the morning tea now. It seems he has been very busy here and I want to carry on for him. I hope I can carry on his tradition. I hope no one will even notice that he is gone.
And that he will not be coming back!!! Once your image from a mirror has escaped there is no coming or going back. The magic is complete. Living in my mirror world was okay. But the grass is always greener on the other side and his world looked brighter than mine. I hated the mystery about him. All those jealous times when I could not see him. I got bits and pieces of him out of the rearview mirrors of cars and his reflections when he went up town in all the glassy store front windows of the shops he passed. But not getting the full view of him is what killed me and I died in the mirror and just had to come back to life by jumping out of it one night.
Oh yeah, I busted out in the dark. I jumped while the getting was good. And there he lay. The real him. I was finally in his world. I looked back into the mirror and did not see myself but just him lying there sleeping on his bed. Well, I said the magic words backwards and then he popped wide-awake. He was gone from the bed and there he stood wide-awake banging on the mirror front and wanting me to let him out. But no way.
I am here to stay. I like the real thing. I got tired of being his reflection. I got some real living to do. Not just the shadow of someone's cast off vision. I turned the mirror around that holds him. I must never look at him again because if I do the magic will be reversed and I am not sure whether we would be together out here or back in that mirror. I am not going to find out. I can leave the mirror facing the wall for three days and he will be entirely gone. Then I can carry the mirror outside wrapped and turn it up to the sun at noon and my door to here will be permanently sealed.
Only one of my kind is permitted to come here at a time. I found all this out thanks to him. He was away so much of the time and I could not see him and was so out of touch with him that I got distracted by so many other things. I had to get hobbies and interests besides all ways standing there and doing all the crap he did and imitate him, but always in reverse. In my world I soon found out that I had a life too. I could do anything I wanted as long as he was not in front of a surface that would reflect him in anyway known to him. And this was a lot of the time.
Mainly at night. So I started taking night classes at The Mirror, Mirror on the Wall Magic School.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Ain't ya got no balls, at all?
It was so funny. I found this scrawled on the wall of the boys' bathroom at the school the first day I attended.
This the brochure had told me was a very strict school and only the bold need apply. I was accepted immediately. I overheard a few of the guys at the urinal passing comments. I was in the stall reading all I could. Hell, I love reading. Reading was one of the things I never got to do because he never did hold a book up to the mirror. But far away when he left a book over in a room I was all over it. Boy! Books could be fun shit. What I am saying is...they could take you places. It was then and there I began plotting my escape.
Before leaving the stall I wiped my ass and adjusted my clothes and took a pen and wrote on the wall under the verses:
Mirror, mirror on the wall
I got my acceptance; I answered the call.
Little did I know that it was John Franklin Stoddard's reflection that had written the verse before mine. He was the serial killer of Boring, Texas who killed the 33 boys in 33 month's time. He castrated them with a broken mirror shard and was found dead lying in a waterbed with a ceiling mirror. Above on the ceiling mirror he had written his confession in his own blood.
My first night of classes began with Professor Glassmore giving us a lecture on Windex and Other Surface Cleaners. I knew I was not going to like his classes.
My second class was Literature. And it was okay. I had to write a book report on Alice in Wonderland: Through the Looking Glass and What She Saw.
My third and last class for the night was by far my most exciting. It was Professor Transparent, a visiting lecturer from Glasgow, Scotland. In his Scottish brogue, he declared in his opening statement to us students: "Tis nut enough we live our lives behind these glass panels, for we long to be free!." Freedom he shouted to the class. Damn! I knew I was gonna like him and his class on Ethics, Braveheart, and the Irish Potato Famine As Reflected By the Scottish Tradition.
I got home exhausted. But had to get up early and do everything in reflection to the ghost living his foolish life outside my perfect, mirror world.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
I will arise; he will take the fall.
Fuck!!! This shit tastes good. The tea is cool. It is better than sitting here watching him drink it let me tell you. Wow, now there is truly magic everywhere. Just like Professor Transparent said. It was so funny cause them ice cubes was a surprise. God, they were cold!!! And just about all the fun the bastard was having out here with me locked away in that mirror.
Alice, who we studied about in the Mirror Mirror On the Wall Magic School, was the only human to ever invade our world.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Bittersweet and full of gall.
I could not wait at night for him to go to bed so I could get to school. I went to The Mirror Mirror on the Wall Magic School to get me an edge-acation. But I learned me a few thangs 'intween.
By far Professor Transparent was my favorite teacher. I dropped all my other classes and studied only under him.
He was a militant Scotsman. He was tired of the old days of us living under our reflections like slaves. He longed to lead a revolution. But it was not permitted. There were mirroring powers greater than us.
School took years and years and I became more enlightened. I found out the history of our world. I knew the names of those who were real and those who went forth as reflections and amounted to something.
Abraham Lincoln was real. James Wilkes Booth was a reflection.
Victoria, Queen of England was real. Jack the Ripper was a
reflection.
John Smith was real. Napoleon was a reflection.
Cynthia Weederman was real. Atilla the Hun was a reflection.
Man was real. God was a reflection.
Stephen King was real. John Wayne Gacy was a reflection.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who goes down this bloody hall?
Yes it was graduation night at the school and I was receiving top honors and graduating first in my classes.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Do you see the massacre at the mall?
I like it. Reflections of the love that used to be. And stop in the name of love before you break my mirror. Because I had lived in a world of sight and color. The school did not prepare us for sound. Hell, they never knew sound existed. Fools. It is the sound that drives us crazy. The fucking music.
Don't you forget about me. I want to break free. Rebel, rebel, your Mom's in a whirl, don't know if you're a boy or a girl. Sitting on the park bench. Cum running down his dick. Eyeing boys with mirrored intent. Transparent dangling make-up cases. Thank you, Indiana.
As we go on down the road. Casting shadows weaker than our souls. And they are buying them an escalator to the outer preserves of Hell. Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Vershootsshe.
The musical sounds of a non-magical world that was drowning in the piss of its own rock stars. The noise of the masses longing for a melody to fuck to. Cry me a river and blue moon of Kentucky keep on fucking me, baby. Roll over Bon Jovi. Crystal Gayle was real. Boy George was a reflection.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Prepare the funeral, make ready the pall.
Under the Glass: Revolution.
I took the world in the Year 3333 A.D.F. After the Death of Reflection. I shattered every glass and set us all free.
I first destroyed all the music and all the sound so that the quiet creatures of glass could live in peace and freedom.
Mirro, mirro on the wall
Who was the greatest terror of them all?
It was I. I was not real. I was a reflection.
I was an abortion. But before I died I saw my reflection in a bright-sanitized metal garbage bin. And I tracked the doctor from mirror to mirror. Like signal racing along the lasered path of perfection.
And I learned my magic well.
I have destroyed all the living. And have brought back all the dead.
I am a reflection. God is a reflection.
And you are not real.
Mirror, mirror on the ceiling
Cry for me now...but there is no healing.
You stabbed with your steely knives
But you could not kill the abortion.
And now you have not had my spirit here
Since 3369.
Drink your tea on ice in hell
We live now in your world very well.
Mirrors, mirrors on all the walls
She comes now with all those pretty, pretty boys
She calls friends
She lets me taste them, and they got balls.
And she's buying a train ride to Hell. Because pictures are deceiving.
Published 8th Jan 2019
Author's Note
This will be the entry to my first Contest.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
8th Jan 2019 11:44pm
*tim and eric mind blown gif*
The rolling beat of this is addictive. Really captivating and I could not stop. Your imagination I want to swim in, and avoid a few suspicious whitewater areas. Amazing.
One little fix, scottish broach = scottish brogue.
The rolling beat of this is addictive. Really captivating and I could not stop. Your imagination I want to swim in, and avoid a few suspicious whitewater areas. Amazing.
One little fix, scottish broach = scottish brogue.
9th Jan 2019 00:00am
Thank you so much. I hope you grabbed the typo before the host got to it. I may be frowned upon for being so long winded. The only thing I knew to do was to go the Harry Potter route. He is about the only one in my life who takes the train. Smile.
There are two different ways a poem gets chosen, by Judge or by a general Vote. Usually typos/mistakes not a worry until time the comps close. :-) but do check and re check for errors while you can.
lol at the HP comment.
lol at the HP comment.
