"bucky" poems
I need a strong yin
to rein me in
to be by my side
kicking my shin
when I need to restrain
my under their skin
to pull me out of my dive
and control my fast spin
it's then that my watson,
my bucky, my tonto
comes into their own
and suppresses my ego
So don't go when I strut
when I trigger disgust
just stand by my yang
and balance me up
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 5:24 PM UTC
Love is a PCR reaction which always runs,
Love is a Centrifuge that always turns,
Love is the brightest of gel bands,
Love is the successful experiment of the luckiest hands,
Love is the paradox that Levinthal showed,
Love is the secret in every Protein fold,
Love is the compatibility of MHC's,
Love is greener than Mendel's peas,
It encompasses us like a fatty micelle,
It is an active synapse between the neural cell,
Love is fullerene a Bucky ball,
It is a hydrocarbon that cages us all,
It is a cat in Schrodinger's box,
It is fatter than the book of Nelson and ***
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
On that day,
On that very day,
Somewhat,
Seventy years ago.
From the train,
You dangled,
Almost there hang in there,
Buck.
Almost there,
Stretch and reach,
Grab my hand,
We'll be reunited soon.
Creak and grunt,
Crack and scream,
Panic,
Fear.
Fingers collide,
Slipping through,
Rail snaps,
Fall.
That scream you screamed,
Terrified as you fall,
Farther and farther,
Screams.
"Bucky!"
"Steve!"
My screams your screams,
Gone.
Impact,
Injuries,
No light,
No arm.
Dead,
Dead in the snow,
Dead in the mountians,
No.
Seventy years past,
Seventy years ago,
Seventy years later,
Seventy years now.
A man,
Gun in hand,
Shaggy hair,
Determined face.
A man,
All in black,
Mask on face,
Metal arm.
My friend,
My foe,
My savior,
My killer.
I could never fight,
The one who gave me hope,
You gave me a chance,
Even when no one would.
I'm not gonna fight you,
I'm not gonna hurt you,
"Cuz I'm with ya till the end of the line,
Pal."
Now it's my turn to fall,
And your turn to watch,
Our turn all over again,
To watch in fear.
You gave me a life,
You gave me a brother,
You gave me a friend,
Why can't I return the favor?
You protected me,
I protected you,
You fought me,
I stayed with you.
From friend to foe,
We remain,
From friend to foe,
We stayed.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
It is true one mind sees bloodsport in the heavens
and cringes in dread of feeling
kindly, like if that were me, what would I do but die?
nada, right, pass on
thank y'mam, feeling kinda woozy, ever after
seeing
2020 on TV…
Google the violence, ohshitnoknowknow we all know
enough evil to know it don't work like on TV, ever
after one burn, you know, fire works, every time,
to destroy at the touch
thunder, such a holy sound in the desert summer moment
on earth, around the middle,
not too cold in the winter
makes too hot to work in the summer, just
fine.
That's right. Life is like that, if you live in the right state of mind.
Back to the Future, once more, it is
always on or in the library,
ask libby, who in the whole world
before
my generation… we who did not get
stuck wishing we would die
before we got old…
who among us now is we the people minded?
Post war knower bubblers expand
until we pop like matured
pods of what people can be if we live this long.
Trouble your own house, inherit the wind,
as part of the meek inheritance agreement accepted
with the weather.
Earthlings all, hear ye, severe storms are part of the deal.
Free ticts to ever after on Bucky Fuller's spaceship,
Sagan's pale blue dot,
live to tell
we learned no lie may be belived and be survived.
We first saw earth from the moon.
More boomers blew minds beyond their
own imaginings, back then,
listen in radioman's
morphic broadcasts
from Khai Vinh,
the fishnet factory,
legendary - now ifier loosed for the attention paid
do you hear what I hear?
did we know the meaning in happy Sisyphus,
or did we find it known and tag along?
Like a rolling stone.
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 5:50 PM UTC
I.
You think
representation does not matter
please listen for
five seconds.
II.
I knew I liked girls
when I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and I was thirteen years old.
III.
I knew I was male
when I read "I am J"
and I was
fifteen years old.
IV.
I knew I had more then
a hundred percent
when people asked me what I thought
about art of Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes,
and Sam Wilson.
V.
We deserve to be
seen
and if you think you are
protecting the children
you are so far from correct.
VI.
You are
keeping the children
stuffed into the closet.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
Cap is sad, Bucky's down
Nat is crying, Vision is gone
Bruce is nowhere to be found
Star-Lord is screaming, Wanda's weeping,
Okoye hates everything,
Strange is quaking,
Loki may not be dead, no one can tell what was in that trickster's head
Peter says, Mr. Stark, I don't wanna be dead
T'Challa reached for his general, but he was dusted too
Tony says, I'm coming for you
Gamora laughed, she thought he was heartless
But he was heartless in a different way
Red skull thought it was all for naught, saw the error of his ways
Until Thanos coughed and said,
Thor, you should've aimed for the head.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
No investment.
No skin off my nose.
- went back to Fool's day
- and then back to all in, free
No loss in time's eternity,
ended in the awesome knowing.
All trials in the ready past, ordo,
Seclorum Sanctorum Ordo, aside
ordinarily free visitor alien status,
-not allowed, they say, my status
holding no sway,
as a free spirit, they
no say, in the way things work here,
-crosswind to all good fortune
now was set to be long
before me, or thee,
verily
very mankindish, we may make do
imaginable causal agencies,
amen-emo-pet insurance
points in prepositioned order,
as we meander after looking out
past the creation of the sun,
some say, and may know, but we,
the common sensors on the planet,
amused and amusing others as well,
we are finishing a projected imagination,
the rites of spring, proposed as worthy
of our Fantasia evolution from Fool's Day,
through several saints days and processions,
all about the passions,
all appointed anointed salves
slick as any Bucky ball solutions
to the smooth, slave mind fear, hell,
set the captives free, break every yoke,
find the shibboleths and laugh at those,
not the accents ya'll'll use to abuse,
the speaker who stumbles …
tongue tied
while quoting Cretan poets.
Apr 29, 2024
Apr 29, 2024 at 9:05 PM UTC
I used to look up at the sky and watch the birds go by.
I gave them names, Dave, Bucky, Zoey, and I.
I used to look up happiness in the dictionary.
The definition didn't please me.
So I decided happiness is Dave, Bucky, Zoey, and I.
Because the happiest I'd ever been,
was watching God's creation at work.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
twas stupid
Buck whom
stump this
cline and
ways are
clear then
to hear
horror stories
confabulate his
sign into
a marking
he'll soon
come to
like in
this mire
that love
will aspire
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
The Killing of old Tom
They all gather in the barn yard.
Penny and poly pig was there with their ribbons of black
Carol the cow and Bucky the bull sang a song of Moo.
Rocky the rooster calls in the alarm with a crow.
As old tom was taken to the chopping block
The Ax was sharp yes indeed. As he raised it and down it came.
Old Billy the goat said off with his head.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and he is dinner.
The stove is ready and the killing of tom will be the end.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
"Why did this happen to me?"
All I can ask;
All I can say.
"I was happy.
I was normal.
I didn't have these."
The scars I see across my face in the mirror.
The panic attack came without warning.
**** Ground yourself."
'5 things you can see.'
"Bars on the door.
Bars on the window.
Stone wall.
Metal floor.
Tile ceiling."
'4 things you can hear.'
"Voices in the hall.
Screams a few rooms over.
Blood rushing through my veins.
Air entering and leaving my lungs."
'3 things you can touch.'
"Metal arm.
Cracks in the wall.
Bed posts."
'2 things you can smell.'
"Sweat.
Serum."
'1 thing you can taste.'
"Blood."
The calm finally takes over.
I can breathe normally again.
I hear a voice.
"Everything special about you
came out of a bottle."
My eyes snap open once again.
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"
"I was talking to you, Grandpa Steve.
Turn your hearing aids up."
I pass out after the last word.
The questions are bugging me.
Who is Steve?
Could he be important?
Is he part of a past that I barely remember?
Steve...
Steve!
The little asthmatic who picked a fight with everything that moved.
Steve from back home in Brooklyn.
All those years ago... how is he alive?
Super Soldier Serum.. No..
Stevie, what have they done to you?
...
Two weeks later
and here I am.
Where is my Steve?
He's out here somewhere.
Oh. My. God.
the chaos...
I'm here now.
And this time, I'm not going away.
Not for the army.
Not for Hydra.
Not for anyone.
I hacked a comms unit.
"Hey. You don't know me.
But can you tell Steve I'm here
to give him back some of his stupid?"
I start firing at the obviously winning team
who have been fighting the "Avengers" for an hour.
I hear Arrow Guy speak into the comms.
"Steve there's a one armed soldier
that says he's here to give you back
some of your stupid.
Does that mean anything to you?"
I see a blue thing freeze.
It turns around and starts running
toward where I am.
That blue thing has a face...
"STEVIE!"
"BUCKY!!"
I hugged him and-
"How are you here? You should be dead."
"The serum... it was permanent."
"They can't.
It can't."
You decided to tamper with my Stevie.
Get ready.
Winter.
Is.
Coming.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
Once the earth was flat
under celestial spheres
then it became a globe
in the void
with countries proud
to be big bigger biggest
fighting together, up
to the planets
Some say turn turn turn
the world upside down
the Land of Fire on top
Thule at the bottom
but Bucky knew better:
with twenty triangles
he made a new model –
the flat globe
and it may be the future
he shows, with America
opposed to the rest
of the world
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
Experiment is everlasting
Universe made knowable
Through perception drifting
Becoming beautiful
Perceptive to frequencies
He muses on the spectrum
For waiting so idly for his insights
We didn't know to expect them
The ebb and flow of epiphanies
Embodied in his prose
His talent flowers and towers tall
Inside it Knowledge grows
Design is his Philosophy
Through it the World can be refined
Striving for harmony
And to end the suffering of mankind
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 11:41 PM UTC