The girl had a golden street gun
Keen sight with a level mean streak
Rabbits be warned, she is a killer
The karrots she carries hold gleam
You could say that Alice was a wanderer
Almost lost within her wondering
Found out through her meandering
She said anything could have meaning
Profound in what you call absurd
Seemingly simple, her totality
Her looks a fatal actuality
Dug more graves then you've ever seen
Don't mistake her calm for some carelessness
Carefree but concise through her connection
She voiced love for her condition
All I have left is her memory
The girl had a golden street gun She sounds like she was your little slice of heroin, a girl who is more then a girl, but the untapped potential of the love within your heart. I think we all got our Alice somewhere, I've left mine in the closet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The name ALICE immediately brought Lewis Carroll's character to mind but she was an INNOCENT PLAYER and this one is definitely NOT. THIS Alice has accumulated a lot of bad karma. I like the last three stanzas which take us away from Alice as killer by emphasizing a three-fold role - WANDER/WONDER/MEANDER. It's too early to say an Alice doing these three things is saveable but at least as the last line has it - her being has acquired meaning whereas before her violence was the worst kind - unprovoked and unfocused.