I must steal Harold’s purple crayon
And build myself a brand-new town
No king or paper bag princess
It will be me who wears the crown.

I shall draw myself a forest
And begin the stories anew
Word of the Fair Queen’s fame will spread
And chaos will ensue.

In order to reach my kingdom
You must first prove your worth
I cannot be reached by sea or sky
You must travel over the earth.

Through the forest is your only hope
To gain such fortune and fame
Marry the Queen and rule the kingdom
If you can survive the game.

You must follow Little Red Riding Hood
As far and as fast as you can
Steer clear of Jack and his beanstalk
Do not trust the Ginger Bread Man.

Snow White’s cabin is to the north
Goldilocks lives to the west
Hansel and Gretel will offer you food
Beware, this is a test.

The Three Little Pigs are plagued
By the Big Bad Wolf of lore
But even he is nothing compared
To the curse Sleeping Beauty bore

**** n Boots and Robin Hood
Will save you just one time
Dare to steal the Goose’s Golden eggs
And you will be punished for your crime.

If you manage to defy the odds
And make it through alive
I shall take your hand and under our rule
The kingdom will grow and thrive.

You must understand it isn’t personal, darling
When I slip the poison into your canteen
I miss my game, and nobody can be
More powerful than the crooked fair Queen.

The most
Beautiful
girl in the
world...

Is watching
her Prince
dance in the
clouds,

With Christopher
Tracy and the april
snow.

We are smiling
because today
Is a happy day
to dance and listen
to Prince music.

All rights and
Copyright belongs
to ©BMS  

2021-6-7

If today
had a mood
It would be
purple,

Pulling
up clouds of
Prince songs,

Wearing a
beret of tear
drops in his
honor.

If today
had a mood it
would bleed
a mix of
purple.

On this day Our purple
Prince our Jamie star
our Christopher Tracy,

He is our
moonbeam streaking across the clouds as diamonds and Pearls.

All rights and
Copyright belongs
to ©BSM

2021-6-7

Standing tall among men was he,
Very humbly he called himself a 'refugee'.
He was the Queen's Consort, oft full of wit;
Yet in humour, he pretended to be a twit.
Some thought he stood among the gods,
Busy with so much he had no time for the Land of Nod.
In life steps behind the Queen he would always be;
At death carried high before the Queen and for all to see.
All the many good works he had done,
The world only knew at the set of his sun.

She walked down the aisle,
In a beautiful white gown just like her smile,
Her hair in a bun
with a crown just like Eve,
Her lips without a smudge,
Her cheeks rosed pink
And her eyes in tears.
She made her vows with the one in her eyes,
But her throbbing heart
Knew she lied.
Since childhood, the angel thought
This day was the best.
Only to realize,
It wasn't the day,
But the man she would spend her rest.
The princess did not have her prince charming riding the white horse,
But he sat on the wooden bench like a silenda,
Reliving the moments of their star crossed saga.
Who knew there was an obscure string,
That would never let them apart,
The flowers,
The mass,
The rings,
Thy charm,
Was all just a show,
When the heart wasn't ready to vow.....

Oh, Prince Philip, you have served us for so long,
For seventy years… The Queen’s Kephas, the rock!
Sometimes it seems that you have always been here...
Like a Servant of the Monarchy, like power, like glory!

Oh, Prince Philip, the son of the Greek Corfu,
You, the Danish Hamlet, you, the brave soldier!
Today your life has died out, today you go to sleep...
So to sleep forever… with God in a permanent covenant!

Your city is crying and the rain is pouring down hard!
Sorrow on the faces of the Britons... You died during the plague,
You left like Paris, real, in the morning, in the spring...

Where are you going now? What kind of images do you see?
What is there after death? Will you reveal these secrets?
Are you taking these to the grave, for yourself, unfortunately?...

9.4.2021.,
On the day of the death of the Greek, Danish and English Prince Philip, husband of the Queen.

Judge me by my acts not my words,
For the world may be filled with roses,
But I shall be his one and only unique rose,
My importance will reign above else now that he has watered and sheltered me in this glass globe,
The caterpillars he has killed and the butterflies he dismisses are acknowledged,
To the listening ears he lent and the hours we have spent,
To the silence shared and the agony of separation I bare,
I am his rose.

in storybook endings ,
the princesses
found their princes.
The valiant heroes
chases away all the dragons.
The lost would find
their way home.
And people would find
what they've lost.
But then, whatever happened
to those who fell in love
with the dragons instead?
The damsels,
who became too comfortable
with their own distress?