The truth about being a superhero, is that only certain people know when to call us at exactly the right time. When the world is about to break into chaos and when the cities need us to be there.
But this isn’t exactly the job I thought it was going to be. I have devoted myself to being the best I can be for the people of my city, for freedom and justice, and for you. And for the first few months of my job, I was everywhere.
People knew my name, I was in every newspaper, children looked up to me, put me on their lunchboxes, they wanted to be me…
They say heroes aren’t born, they’re made. But I was born! Of the kindness of my mother, and the bravery of my father to create this image of strength. I am a superhero! I can fly, can you fly? Can you wear this suit? Can you handle the responsibility?
Not all of my city wanted a superhero. Some of them became the villains. And it’s not like I can’t handle a few bad guys, but sometimes, the citizens are my kryptonite.
Sometimes they don’t want me, one day they praise me and the work that I’ve done, the next day, they say they don’t need another hero, I’m just another problem, they say “Leave us the way that you found us: broken. And not needing anybody around to fix it.”
But I’m not perfect either. I can fly, but gravity still brings me back to earth, I can run, but not from my problems, I can carry cars with my two hands. But the weight of the world still sits on my shoulders.
The day they told me to leave the city, I reminded myself that if I harmed any one person, broke my promise to be the sole keeper of freedom and justice for all. That I would hang up my cape and quit.
And I did. I became human again, I am not as strong as you made me out to be. You told me I wasn’t needed. And soon after the villains had returned and they were shouting for me to save them again.
I thought you didn’t want me, stop it, I’m no hero, I’m just a person. Please, my powers only do so much. Do you still need me to save you? I’m just an alien, a science experiment, a mutant, a drawing in a comic book.
I am not your superhero! I can’t do this anymore! It was you who pushed me away, you fear my powers, you fear me. But I didn’t do anything wrong.
Please… Just let me go. You are the heroes now. Just let me go.
My girl is a superhero:
With one foot she snuffs the smoldering
Cigarette butt her depression lies in, and
With the other she staves the weight of a
With her left hand she creates and makes
Beautiful things from a beautiful mind,
And with her right she craddles me,
All the while flying on the small vibrant
Wings of a robyn.
Before the garden was saved... It fell countless times.
But each time it fell, it was saved & restored; & each time
..it has been worth the effort. This is fact, not mere opinion.
The garden has fallen in many fashions. It has gone out
every way imaginable. It has been burned. It has been ridden
with plague & disease. It has consumed itself through greed.
It has killed, turning corrupt eye ...time after time after time..
It has frozen over, gone cold with stone & ice. It has been stretched,
& all-l-l ..the way to death, it has bled. It has been its own worst enemy,
& has also played the victim.
As it has fallen, so shall it be risen.
It has gone out every way imaginable... Implying then, it has been saved every way imaginable...
There is one cycle, in which the city was drenched, died due to a dogged downpour. The garden suffocated; it was flooded,
submerged... condemned.. to the bottom of a new-lake.
Rusting & flaking beneath... drowned, Garden did..
Flowers ...to seaweeds. Treasures & high-test soil ..buried;
everything bloated & breaking, like Atlantis rotting ...Garden sank.
But in this cycle, the city was saved... not by something with scales,
but by a creature with feathers, instead. This is the tale of
the Sea Hawk ..the Osprey.
He dove down from the clouds, as if they were cliffs
into this new-lake deep, full of some sort of
new-kind-of-spirit & reached... out with his grasp,
till his fingers clasped.. the tip of the ship. Like a toothpick,
he uplifted said-ship, pinching it.. like a nerve, holding it...
like some old, legendary sword by its bowsprit-of-a-grip.
Unedited for now.
Notes regarding Garden & this hawk idea I have now added to the mix.
Everything in the works.
Claiming this more unfinished than I was originally going to claim it. Will be updating this one.
i met you in a bookstore,
you ordered coffee,
and we talked about the beauty of literature,
but mostly about comic books.
you said that we were superheroes,
under the glasses, the frizzy hair,
that we were something special,
and i started to believe you.
you told me that the first rule of being a superhero,
was that we were not to use capes.
so i thought, okay, no capes,
and we were one with the tapestry of the sky.
then like all superhero tragedies, you left,
your mask along with the crimson rose,
your stone still there,
a painful reminder of what was not there.
now i work alone,
teaching others how to bring hope in the secular age,
by teaching them the first rule: no capes.
"Hawks migrate you know? & force of wind can be a large & pesky variable, little brother. Sometimes the things you believe will propel you into the right direction ---- actually end up pushing you off course. Sometimes the invisible... will pull you elsewhere, regardless of wherever it was ...you.. had in mind.
The invisible.... can be reckless, unforgiving, ..uncaring; however, Lady Luck has always smiled for me. I've always been devil-may-care, as it has always felt right to be so. That is.. to play the role of the wildcard, & to be given a supernatural sort of sight, which has led me through the Piano Key Seas....
Come to think of it... That was my mistake: failing to avoid large bodies of water. Those gusts out there.... in the middle of all the waves. I should have flown 'round the coastline, instead. Those damn gales...!"
He pauses & adjust his silver spectacles: They look as if they come from somewhere far away or were crafted in a time long before his day or age.
"But I navigated a way... I listened. I truly listened & ...Voila!
Here-I-am: The Hawk, the Wildcard, the Raptor ..the Rock & Rolla...."
So fear not-for the Garden, or for anything, little brother. Fate
has brought me back ..to be the one who saves this place before
you come-to out of dreams & sleep.... to do all of what I do, now,
all over again.."
He then proceeds to take the city by its metaphorical hand & wrist,
& pull the drowning-ship--of-a-nation -- incl. his sleeping brother --
up from the waking grip of the Hollow. He had tacked the wind
ten-thousand times ..& then some; he would now tug o' war
This piece is unfinished, but inspired. Working title & everything.
Thank you all. All my love.
Also, for clarification: This is a scene in a prequel I suppose you can call it. It is still all abstract to even myself, but I will word it plainly as to make it easy to understand. Please forgive the lack of polishing:
There is a city named Garden in later stories. It is protected by a few heroes. Here, it is being saved by this hawk-hero BEFORE any of those few heroes have taken up a name or anything yet. One of those heroes, is this hawk-guys younger brother who is in a state of 'torpor,' asleep. I am not sure what I am going to do with this hero yet. I may have his story go untold, at least within 'his world' thereby conveying how some heroes are 'comically doomed' in a sense to do all of the work, & receive not one shred of credit for it. We shall see. Apologies for the repost and all this explaining. Will sort all of this out one day when I have the time. I do promise that.
Working title for now.
Oh heroes of our youths, drawn in
splendid colors and panels or flying across
screens for sake of justice, you stars
of infinity and all realities sparing us
from the scourge of boredom while you
saved the day with ease, right vs wrong
clear as the cerulean sky, for you we pine!
Your winsome smiles soothed housewives
and maidens and doe-eyed youngsters
even as your capes became faded
and tattered and no longer were draped
over bedposts of intrepid lady reporters
willing to overlook, like we all did,
the familiarity of your unspectacled faces!
Your somber tongues gravely implored
us to redeem our grimy criminal cities,
lighting our fervor by spotlight against
darkest sky and even in the absence
of grappling hooks or alone with only
the latest fashionable belt, with no
hot young bird in the passenger seat
of your improbable nocturnal sports cars!
Your responsibilities and power came
all woven together, kept you from looking
out of any of your eyes the wrong way
either up or upside down, holding
the universe together with chivalry
and astute entomological acrobatics!
Your master kicks rivaled any other
rat or amphibian, and it was pure art
how you would karate chop through
our mutated melancholy, radical dudes
freeing us in every dimension
from maniacal brains and threats
of shredding our dignity like pizza cheese!
Your ecology was right as rain,
bio-available when we'd ring you up
and always giving back the power after
cleaning up some toxic mess, blowing
our adolescent minds as you flew about
kicking ass and spouting corny puns
long before oddly-dyed hair was trendy
and when Earth was a few degrees cooler!
We mourn you now more than ever,
remembering you with longing
as true villains appear, their green rocks
growing heavier and more radioactive,
their twisted jokes severing us
from one another, spewing venom,
bidding us conquer this land
and scorching the world for spite.
We mourn you now, our heroes, gone
but not forgotten and barely evoking
this nostalgic sense that you never left,
summoning within us the courage
to claim our inheritance, to finally discover
those ancient powers you've bequeathed;
to finally step up and save the world.
With his costume on,
he jumped down-from-the-rooftops....
into an alley of dark, brick, & stone -
where criminals have been known
to swim like sharks. Down & up
this green river, they have gone,
backstabbing each oth-er. Remor-
-as & minnows... Like sharks,
but.. ...of ....chum
they.. were cut ~each one~
..not of cloth.
& so with his costume on....
he cast with an iron rod,
known as the Fisher-man
throughout this city
Healthy to finish out the week without lacking THAT much sleep, I presume.
Fyi: temporary title
..The one they say ..who moves in a slinky way..
one day.. vanished.. ..without a trace.
All of her silk, she took with herself..even her sash; &
if she were that-metaphorical-sun, then along with all of her lace..
she too ~~ took-away all of her rays. A peripheral-glare ..& like that ..!
she was gone… She left, she ..the Sun ~ fled her city, her Garden ..even her flower…..
...His heart, she too ~ if abandoned, still would possess forever, along with God
..for only by these two could he ever be owned. But she had her reasons, claiming the Garden, this flower… ...a traitor. Her life feeling cheated... so she wrenched her curvy dagger..
& as well as blame -- too -- cast ...was stone, releasing the blood
from his-severed-veins, as she pushed-in ---- deeply seeding, entangling ..the blade,
..within his skull, through his brain -- - -- - -- - jolting him from the back,
having first made an entrance, in-through ..his stem.
She titled this piece “Love Knot,” for he & the dagger were now as one
like a braid. Out the front of-one-of-his-eyes ..she had whispered it; the end of the tine now extended its point through, sharpening his sight ..Twisted thoughts ~ provided by her, however
for a pupil that is what a teacher ..ought ..to do.
She had killed him ..he died & fell. This time it was not from the sky....
or from the clouds, or from space; it was from where he was standing,
which was -- with his back turned -- in front of Grace.
But before he fell, he spun himself ‘round; he already knew it was her,
but he wanted to see her face-to-face. He wanted to look into her eyes ~
as if they were both coming ..however, only he.. ...was going.
With his other eye ...he winked.
His body hit the ground; he landed on his back facing up.
The impact upon the tail-end -- the stub -- forced the tip to further jut..
-out through the black round part of the middle of his eye, midway during the thud.
The dust settled, the air cleared... She stepped closer... to this mess,
before she would forever be gone. She knelt down beside him,
& pet his face clean, wiping off all of the blood. Her just being there...
~like dirty rags once lathered in mud, now dipped anew, re-stained,
sustained… reminded through.. her presence; his filth ..soaked first in her suds.
But he would take no more baths; there would be no more bubbles.
His remains would only stew. She closed his one good eye & kissed its lid,
stood ..nodded, & off she flew...
...away from here,
from this Garden & her flower;
she had relinquished herself, & back
into him she had returned-at-once
all of his power.
All my love.
You'll never see certain things in the news
Wonder Woman, coming, totally unglued
Superman, tripping on his cloak
Green Lantern, while lighting up a smoke
Ironman, paying out, his Avenger dues
The Hulk wearing spandex, and tiny ballet shoes
Captain America, his shield, being broke
Batman caught, telling a good joke
Wolverine passing gas, asking to excuse
Storm in the bathroom, blushing, as she poos
Yes, my inner three year old shines through! :D
The night is here and the wind is slightly rushing at our entrances; although, inside the climate has it's differences. In between the thermostat providing warmth, dimmed vision, television illuminating our faces, cinnamon scents floating through the vents, my arms are imprinted from your sudden firm grips. It's my lap you sit as we watch continuos scenes of outburst, followed by your hysterical vocal siren. Unsure if this movie is actually getting scary or if its because the Hennessy mixed apple cider is wearing. As the fallen leaves picks up by the breeze I can hear growing alerts of "trick or treat", which happens to be the most exciting sight of your night. Seeing you so enthused by the little costumes, loving how well you are with the young; therefore, it's blissful to witness you having so much subtle fun. Temporarily able to shut ourselves back inside and it is obvious that the gusts have been having it's way with your bun. Reposition as "Netflix and chill" get back real. You get your last shivers out as you find shelter for your arctic feet. Took us a couple of tries to agree on what's comfortable, finally. Now I'm back to supporting your marshmallow like body in my tightened arms when I'm stricken by this rush of paradise. The feeling of triumph, due to being able to give you what you ultimately asks of me. You didn't know you'll be spending nights like this with your superhero dressed in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants. The uniform that none of the candy seeking children glorifies; however, they don't know how high I jumped, how hard I stomped, how straight I punched and how fast I had to run to save you from all those jokers.