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The Spirit caught me
Or maybe the Spirit
Catches me

Either way I always Fall
Down
The rabbit hole way further

Than I knew existed

My Fall is not
An easy one
I hit speed bumps
Every which
Way

I've been left in a
State of hazy
Confusion

But I am not dead
The doctor's told mommy
I would be by now

Yet here I am
Fighting still,
Head held high

With pride
Cause I am a miracle child
Eyes wide open

Each one a testimony that the
American Medical Complex
Isn't always the answer

Isn't the only
Answer
At the very least

So divorced from humanity
That they forgot we
Are spirit first

And
Body
Second

And some fates are worse
Than death
Some alter destinies for more

Than one
Lifetime
Heaven

Forbid they try
That same nonsense
On me again
Not Hmong
But Still
....
Anne Fadiman
A wise man
Questions his own ideals
A fool worships them
Showing off is the fool's idea of glory.
I and all pastafarians
Celebrate a golden
Anniversary
In 2019
Any
Thing
Is
Pastable
...
Pasta bowl
...
Possible
And
Unrelated
Wendy's was
Founded and Dave
Thomas died at age 69
Pastafarians
....
Who shot the sherriff?
....
Bob
izzn Jun 9
His eyes of twilight
will haunt your midnight
His devilish smile
will keep your angels tied

Even his red plaid shirt
is  full of dirt and darkness
He'll bite your neck
'cause he's that vicious

No point to resist
Says that, says this,
As ridiculous as it is,
You'll say yes, my sis

No mourn no grieve
'cause Nightosphere is where he lives
He is full of mystery
He is Marshall Lee
This one vampire king
will drink your heart's red in one sitting
then serenade you with his guitar strings
Enough to bring the Fiona out of your Fin.
You gave us a superhuman spider
and an insect of ant proportions.

You created the man of iron
and a man that can control it.

A pioneer of an epic approach,
you challenged a great authority.

By bringing forth enticing characters,
you lit a fire in those that followed them.

Everything about them is extraordinary,
and the passion radiated from the pages.

Thank you for all that you did, Mr. Lee,
you surely will be a man that we remember.

❝ Excelsior!❞
To honor the great legend, Stan Lee, I have made this poem.

In the words of the man himself: "I try not to do anything that's too close to what I've done before. And the nice thing is we have a big universe here. It's filled with new ideas. All you have to do is grab them." Basically, variety is the spice of life and with it, something miraculous could be made.
Khoi-San Nov 2018
Far out of the corner of his
Eye he followed a star
Shining deep in the distant
Constilation
Dark matter concealed his
Hand out of sight
The connection was COMIC
From the hammer of Thor
Stan Lee created
Spiderman and the Fantastic four
A tribute
To the late great
Stanley Martin (Lieber) Lee
28/12/1922 — 12/11/2018
Creator of Marvel Comics
Spider Man
And many other superheroes
May your journey continue
Among the stars into infinity
You only brought us joy Sir
Joe Nov 2018
Stan Lee.
The real hero of the pen.
The man who set our minds free.
The man who cheered us up again and again.
You will be missed,
But your work outlives you.
Cap and his fist.
Tony and Pepper too.
You created such a list.
Stan Lee WE will remember you!
Jillian Jesser Oct 2018
and when your babies were born
you named them for the stars
but the backyard was all they ever saw
when your mother got the call
the world was obsessed
but when we change the channel
you'll still feel him inside
you'll still feel him
Ooh...this... just an amazing grace note
     recalling how I felt like an ***
and wanna toot 'bout me getting steered
     (as a heavy metal kid Rocker)

     toward befriending a brass
see gutsy, *****,
     and MainLine snooty upper class
action button down

    (grace fully slick as vaseline), airily glinting
     forcibly hawked, laundered, and pawned
     by the instrumental
     Mister Deangelo O'Donnell, High School

     (mud flapping, ornery hearing,
     and quid juicing Ska Welch ching)
     music teacher oompah crass
tone deaf when aye trumpeted desire

     to master the Coronet
analogous to pursing lips
     blowing tightly held grass
blade between two abetted,

     cinched fastened opposable thumbs,
which tooting a supposed aural aphrodisiac
     to attract a zaftig well proportioned lass
     (ideally shaped like a miniature Tuba)

with one steel funnel like mouthy mass
that probably explains, how such a gal
     could easily emulate
     ****** pucker earning pass

to illustrious honorable first chair
and blasts gratitude akin
     as Gabriel would declare
heavenly expressions conducting

     angels thru atmospheric ether
alighting on mortal ushering melody
     with rites of harkening
     springtime Renaissance Faire

solar rays golden raiment
     splays rainbow fragments off
     beveled, bellowed, and
     bedecked polished flare

audiological sound waves trick
     saw toothed reflected
     silhouetted orchestral shadows
to dance as conductor's baton gear
musicians horns ensemble
     epochal feast to hear.
Alex McQuate Apr 2018
Marching forward,
The Old Gunney marched to the golden throne,
Halting and coming to the position of attention,
Ready for his final Inspection.

He tried to live as a good man,
Dispute some burrs in the corners,
He was kind to his family,
Full of humility and humor.

Without a doubt his inspection would be up to *****
R. Lee Ermey 1944-2018
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