The Court of Fools


Tiny pink ribbons laced in

golden silk, with velvet hugging

diamonds and silver, all of which

hummed for a lullaby long buried

in a treasure chest of memories. 

Crowns and wands, with a big 

cake in the middle.


The March Hare sings, while his

friend dances across the table.

A Cheshire Cat grins his mischievous  

smile, as his Dormouse wipes the wine 

from his lips. Caterpillars sit inside their

whimsical musings, never once

bothering to find the essence of their

drug-induced haze. Tweedledee

and Tweedledum bicker. The Queen 

and King screech at the top of their

lungs, amongst a throne of praise: 

Sing for me! No me! No me!


They all stare at me, as if I have all the 

answers to this forsaken




I hold the scepter in my hands,

my inhuman heart subsides.

Dreams and reality entwine, with

the harshness of tainted light.

Forgive myself for falling to decadence,

as I lead the Court of Fools,

laughing at the slain, the weak and the dead,

while celebrating a feast for the cruel.

Off with their heads, off with their heads,

they all cry playfully,

but we still don masks of madness,

as we laugh away 




Robin Goodfellow