Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,593 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Alice And The Spooks - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Little girls in little blonde curls
In reddish frilly messes
Eat their lunch alone,
Served by brunette waitresses
The eyes the color of
Burnishes doors,
Their thoughts slipping from their dresses.

A six year old Alice
Finishes her chicken and waffles,
She goes outside, screams,
Grits her teeth, unloads her guns
The bullets bang

There are boatloads of boogiemen
Eating the streets,
The gangs of vampires kissing
The sweet coeds’ necks,
While the Goth chicks take
Snapshots like Japanese tourists.

Her mom and dad are out there too,
Dressed like Ralph Lauren and Lash LeRoux,
But they are not who you think they are
As they moan to her, “Why aren’t you
In preschool? ”

But school, she knows, is the worst
Place to be,
Because there’s a hole in the courtyard
As deep as the sea
Out of which the Big Bad things churn,
Not unlike a scoop of ice-cream soft serve.

Down at the end of the street
In the atmospheric light of a terminally ill sun,
Someone is whistling like Clint Eastwood.
She sees who it is, all the old gang,
Death and his boys: Pestilence, Famine, War,
Frank and Jesse James.

They’re all smoking as they come
Out of the brothel.
They just killed all the gods in the sky,
So the heavens lay like breathless still-life—
Like the black apple and the brown pear
They made her finger-paint in art class;
But all she really cares about is that
Her chewing gum is getting tasteless.

She steps forward, our dear young Alice,
Her little blonde curls tied in red bows,
In tumbling, frilly messes.
She swears, she curses, she gives
A useless Jesus the bird,
Then she takes her little foot
And draws a line in the dirt,

She blows a pink bubble,
Cocks her gun and gives all that’s Evil
Ten seconds to run.

Comments about Alice And The Spooks by Robert Rorabeck

  • Adeline Foster (6/22/2012 4:26:00 PM)

    This says more than perhaps the words convey. I too spotted the internal rhyme, it did enhance the impact.
    I don't suppose you tried to go to for the book. Whatever that book is about, at least I do hope he knew enough to hire a proof-reader.
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  • (9/9/2011 3:59:00 AM)

    This read like a little story, The language is not the one seen in traditional poetry. It seems like you have you own style of poetry, evoiding in a way that typical flowerry kind of verse but saying as much.

    I admire the occasional internal rhyne that you put here and there in the poem, and I like the way you go about saying what you say in this good try.

    By the way, I have a book out called 'Simply My Mind.' If you like a copy, go to and type Luis Estable and you will see.

    The best to you know and ever!
    (Report) Reply

  • (8/10/2011 5:51:00 AM)

    Yes sir, little Alice finally found her champion. I really am amazed by your
    tremendous level of skill and mastery. You bring a lot of what is certainly true
    along with this picture of Alice's world. It helps to turn the pot over and let it
    all run out no matter what....... Very remarkable painting......... Thanks for it..

    Jim Troy
    (Report) Reply

  • (8/26/2008 10:36:00 AM)

    This is evil, love it! It reminds me of Kathy Acker's novella 'Blood and Guts in Highschool' (Report) Reply

  • (5/21/2008 9:12:00 PM)

    This poem is epic.10/10.
    Bret, I've only read a couple of your poems (so far) and each one has been phenomenal!
    I look forward to reading more of your work.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 23, 2007

Poem Edited: Monday, April 11, 2011

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