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O when gammy gamete of his gamma mamma
and Sellarfield spoff from his pappy’s photonfried *******
seeded the Caeser of our replacers,
the Mohammed of the Muties;
when biology’s genius botchology doodled Salvadordarwinny winners,
Magneto’s mamma’s doctor had ultrasound butcher’s ,
then the doc gollygoshed,
‘You’ve got the ruthless idol to a whole evil brotherhood
of Rugrats of Rutherford up there, my dear!’
And the doctor called his doctor,
who called the police, who called Captain Beany,
who called federal forces – ‘fraidycrats who fingered
an all-time rut in resources – and called Supercynic,
who didn’t buy it and b’sides had no pro-human bias,
but decades later mentioned it in bed with Missus
Martian Manhunter, who called Martian Manhunter,
who was in a *** bar on Mars, hunting a good Martian man.
But some little green queen who’d probed down Brighton in the past,
flying low, cruising in his youhoo.F.O., a humane Martian
called the Earth Embassy, who called the United Nations,
who called a conference of capitulation, and now all call Magneto
Maestro di Mondo Mucho Magnifico Neato,
MyliegeyourexcellencytheguvnorthreemagspulIwemeanthreebagsfullsi­r.

But I know me too well, and if my wish had been written in redshift
for express delivery, my cosmic order primordialed,
if back to the Planck Epoch the Royal Mail could retroject a plea,
addressed to an aeon or so after God bled light districts,
when Her celestial storge was in its prime prestarry
(before expansion of the Creator’s
postnatal depression made ****** granite mcguigan monadnocks
seem more high and soft than God)
- yeah, if I hadn’t might as well flushed it down a blue elliptical
galaxy, if my prayer had a prayer of
not being under Her radar (all the others were),
but it had aired on God’s baby monitor back when She suppliied
6 daycare, then off my knees, airgonaut with an acierated heart,
I’d be annealed a steely manly overman of steel.

But I’d most likely cheapen that mantle purpureal,
coz if Magneto was me, he’d be a minnow
who’d squander those meaty mutie superpowers,
one of the four fundamental forces  
falling straight from gracerightinto
purloining perv shelves,
jamphlets and jugmags and skinzines and the Daily Inthealtogether,
cumics such as the Creamo and the Randy ****** out of the pornershop
letterbox by a grumblemagnetter, ***** old pied piper of purdy paper
pulling flat stacked girls from grumbelows on a metallokineticowinnow
by their pierced creases.
Like some poltergeist tealeaf
who can’t decline his deadman’s diamondcutter,
I’d be Magneto
bathos had a rainmacked beckoner of centrefolds’ staples,
notso twinkle twinkle Stan Leethal story
of the Fuehrer as Uri Geller on roids.
But now I’ve wondered what you are, Magneto, finito.
It’s a freak if anyone has a future, save the freaks,
who have date with a bed of radioactive rainbow roses,
if they stick like, yep you guessed it, a magnet
to their magus, their Moses,
who parts devil’s roped chainlink
and reinforced concrete all the way to Mutopia.
Also unnormals’ Noah,
whose forcefield arc preserves all alpha lepers,
their atomicuglystickpounded stegga squaws
and stronty swampdonkey progeny,  
all those whose Quasimodo chromosome's a d’oh!
transliterated into DNA
shall pass on their futureshock stock
out of harm's way,
under cover of a mag(safety) net
for tho' facebenders be not fair,
a horlicksedhelix fassache
is not the mug cullions wear
in the Magnetosphere.
Magneto will not forsake freaks,
freaks need not fear    
his magnetic flipout:
entire EMfield is an akeldama
exclusively anthropocidal.  
Soon a GM child won’t need shieldin’ at all!

For those with molecules
molested more mirific than mere Merricks
and their muntant, minghawk consorts,
those with superabundant gains of function,
who owe thanks to industrial puddles
or flytipt is’topes for fly freak powers ,
these saddle up their war wuzzles and blue lobsters
from growth hormone oceans, then
chimera heroes charge the humes,  
the norms, mean mediocracy of muggles!
His Magjesty’s neomorphic myrmidons

versus irremedial malevolence of megamedium men,
well, what’s left of them
after they’ve  met their Makermatcher
maxing out the meetyourmakerometer,
literal worldbeater
splatting the reign of hubristic, Hum Bom‘ avin’ it hominids.
O eggbeaterbladesjamming,
lamppostwrapping,
traintrackcravatting
awesome welly, wrath
of Magneto!  Nemesis has no chance:
Prof X, babysbottombonced telepath
explodes everted by his own zinc supplements,
all his vitals evaginated with noise of a backward raspberry
– YRREBPSAR!
No, maybe just ker-SPLURKSHH! In front of news crews
from ‘Good Morning Gomorrah’, and what’s morer,
tho’ what they caught on camera was slipshod,
was coz new screws were oscillating right outta new tripods.

The Daddy Mag’s sapiosayso all it took,
delivered with a sidedishin’ shirty look,
supercilious fingerclick,  then supercallous frangible physics
he expedited lawless, as at a singularity’s mathematical badlands,
and sent all metal mad.
Spelt red death for the Prof,
whose own minerals reaving ionised skinned
mindreading Ironside skinhead entoectad.  
Now coquelicot slop, clairvoyant bald as a coot
must have been suicidal spod to *** off
muties’ Malcolm X and Master of the Universe’s Pulling Method
– like Timmy and his mallet in one corner,
Thor with Mjolnir in the other. Or a story with drawings by Jack Kirby,
juxtaposed next to a coat of emulsion narrating Jackanory.
Coulda just magnetised the Prof’s wheelchair
into the back of some haulier’s cyclistsquisher,
but Magneto’s a hammy Shiva, gloryhog like all gods.

O I know Barreness Margaret Hilda Von Doom’s more macho,
but were I my muse, Magneto, well, no Hitlerian librarian
could judgementdaydream so.
Raised by repulsion from the nearest or attraction to the furthest
pole, over lode ranges levitating loxygenlessly, His Hypergrav Grace.
Is it the spirit of Ed Headrich, his frisbeing free from his body,
tho’ underwhelmed by his halo, an aureate Aerobie?
Or is it a crimson crow? No: Magneto.
If the posthuman is a Pandora’s box,
he’s its inexorable crowbar, Evolution’s new broom.
Natural Selection a sovereign reinstated
by muta-über new bar,
master who has no call for crowbars or keys, tinopeners, boltcutters,
of knurling or bending his mag-knees-toes when lifting        
marines outta degaussed exosuits by the scruff of their dogtags
- let them hover till they hang!

Basketballingly belittling
a B-52, curlynealing a jet bomber on th’end of his index,
coz round his pinkie imperious Magneto twists
electrons’ spins and orbits.
Awesummoning electromagnetic pulses,
big bogoff SHA-KOOM! shockwaves,
that bring Nato’s whirlybirds of prey, chinooks, to book
(e.g. the ‘Book of the Devil Valley Master’ from 4th century BC China).

And as for the F22 Raptor
-  watch out, that’s a brandnew…Oh, scrapt war-
bird. Steel its Achilles’ heel,
mankind’s  collective military might
humbled into a junkyard on high,
a giant junk gyre crinklin’ and creakin’,
scraping and chiming as all modernity metallurgic
is mashed about the ambit of the carcrusher eye
of his chrome Charybdis in the sky.
Vast and vortical vectorfield realised in lithe steel,
seething silver stratospriral o’ swirly enswallowment
straddles Megiddo, with accretion disc of armoured ooze
like a platinum worldwreath,
but no condolence means Magneto.
No large hadron collider had to collude in
this inhaling metalmouth of a hellmouth,
where to winged lemming death
magnetoceptive real birds might be misled.  
It'd magnettickle my ethmoid bone,
my lapsed biocompass’d soak up teslas and oersteds
till  lagnetism of hysteresis heated
my gone cold prehistoric sense of direction,  
my bearings on fire f’hours
after his fingers apocalypclickt
a billion ballbearings
to buckshot the firmament.
Twinkle twinkle Stan Leethal story
of the Fuehrer as Uri Geller on roids.
Overlord lovely in a cape chromarinated
in shells of murex, wearing unionsuit exterior pants
(his are a rhapsody in rhodopsin)
over longjohns of magenta spandex.
And brightred buckethead
helmet, which deflects ESPeeping by pilgarlic psychic Prof X,
coz genetic raggy dolls’ rex transcends Brand X!

Tinker , tailor? Tut, I wanna be the Fuehrer as Uri Geller on roids,
supernally surfin’ Sheffield steel shoah of swarming saucepans,
shaving blades and stanleeknives and saws and Saabs
and copcars and ironore meteorites. Also, the surgical
instruments of the street and the shanks of medical science;
sets of stainless steakspears of infomercial provenance;
scraggy skyscrapers got by the girders , horizontally hurled
as if Godzilla’s ghost improvised  9/11esque javelins.

Magneto’s only weakness is that he repels fridge magnets,
and same re pelmatic neodymium of toy taikonauts for spacewalks.
No matter when he can magicnetise
fridges to fly with a flock of killer falling filing cabinets
in an ironfilingsswirling firmament!

Whether noble or base, the metal in everything mangled
into motion at his megalomagnetic fingerclick,
raising a scrapmetal maelstrom thru mere cerebration,
which shines retribeautifully
as it veers quadrivially at some veerlocity,
on fourwayspliting beeline to align with
recycled hails of sharpnel shellcases,
as well as virgins to internal ballistics,
all the bashful bullets never barrelistically trajected,
yet volitating with a vengeance to
Washington and Salem, Berlin and Genosha.
For starters.
All thru the all too **** crapien weeks of human weakness,
I wished upon faraway far ago farty fled fusion,
upon Polaris (star that wags Baby Bear,
not Wanda and Quicksilver's stepsis ),
upon any old alien civilisation’s screwy sun/s,
upon colossal conkedout spinfernos and neutron glowwormholes,
but God must have gone fishin’.

Or is She still a few
puffedup predicates prefixed ‘omni-‘ short of a Godhead,
still an interstellarmedium cadet after Her pre-Bigbang epidural?
Or just washing Her dark matted hair, God a Rapunzel
with superstring bob I cannot dream up like Jacob?

A powerlessnesscrazed petition went PEYOWM!
outta my polarised soul, grim and swift as sylviacidal dew,
or rush hour reaper atop an atrous cheetah,
skeletal chevalier shepherding spirits
of manic street pizza.
O supplication newselfseeking  
approprihated my full steam squirminmyownskin
for a reaction mass,
'swhy seekanddestroy geekandfanboy's
rogation rightly rocketed… Right
into the overriding white noise
of God’s Rice Crispies, madding crowd of cosmic
microwave background radiation.
Suppose I’m stuck with stealth seething,
finding myself sorely wanting, sorely needing
the confidence boost of being **** superior,
which is what my warp factor wish was for.
G’arn God, givvus mutie superpowers
like a registered trademark of Marvel Comics,
and not just metahuman partytricks,

coz I wanna be the instantaneous ironsmith
himself, metal’s mesmeric animator, demiurgic gremlin
mentally meddling with enemies' mechanics,
ballonanimauling  their oilderricks.
Ferroshistin’ scifi miracle terrorism
at Magneto’s theatrical fingerclick.
Äŧül Jul 2017
Just like the Mxyzptlk can be killed,
I can solve all of my problems too.

By making it say its name backwards,
Nemesis of the Superman is killed.

Reverse engineering all problems,
All my problems can be solved.
My HP Poem #1621
©Atul Kaushal

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