Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"comics" poems
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
0
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
there are only dates
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
Continue reading...
91
the frustration I had after failing to bring myself to ****** for the tenth time this past week makes me more furious than depressed seriously my *** drive has always been high as soon as I got over the shame society places on women for enjoying their sexuality I have always used ************ as a release relieves stress leaves me relaxed and content or should I say, left me feeling that way usually it was once a day fairly frequent but, it matched my *** drive's needs what the **** is wrong with me I have tried imagining, watching, reading, looking at every form of erotica that exists I have searched through everything I can find from **** ****** stories, comics and my search history will let you know that I've searched everything from **** to ****** to interracial lesbian forced ******* and things worse than that e v e r y t h i n g used to take me, oh, I dunno maybe three minutes with my ******** after around an hour is when I give up now I even bought a different ******** NO RELEASE NO PASSION GONE what is WRONG WITH ME oh yeah - depression I mean I knew it was bad when video games no longer had appeal that was enough games have been a passion and a hobby of mine since I was five the other hobby I started a bit older than five but you stole that one, too after depression beat the **** out of me on Tuesday I thought that was it thought since the next morning I awoke without the urge to **** myself it was over nope you have robbed me of the simplest things in my life that give me pleasure no more wriggling moaning spasming the tingling sensation that starts in my toes and makes its way up the length of my body the warmness that follows with it the satisfaction slight smile snuggly sleepy post ****** me I miss her give her back I miss my life give it back this isn't ME for ***** sake! I am a ****** witty humorous creature full of passion looking for opportunities to get myself off! not this depressed apathetic vessel without soul. you won't stop until you have everything in my life you won't stop until you put my soul in your mouth chew grind crush it your saliva breaks me down spit me out please I am fighting for you to cough me up regurgitate the essence of me let me put myself back inside this body please please no you won't stop you will eat my soul until ever fiber protein ounce of health I had is now inside of you, depression cold-hearted *****
0
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
************ VIDEO GAMES AND DEPRESSION
the frustration I had after failing to bring myself to ****** for the tenth time this past week makes me more furious than depressed seriously my *** drive has always been high as soon as I got over the shame society places on women for enjoying their sexuality I have always used ************ as a release relieves stress leaves me relaxed and content or should I say, left me feeling that way usually it was once a day fairly frequent but, it matched my *** drive's needs what the **** is wrong with me I have tried imagining, watching, reading, looking at every form of erotica that exists I have searched through everything I can find from **** ****** stories, comics and my search history will let you know that I've searched everything from **** to ****** to interracial lesbian forced ******* and things worse than that e v e r y t h i n g used to take me, oh, I dunno maybe three minutes with my ******** after around an hour is when I give up now I even bought a different ******** NO RELEASE NO PASSION GONE what is WRONG WITH ME oh yeah - depression I mean I knew it was bad when video games no longer had appeal that was enough games have been a passion and a hobby of mine since I was five the other hobby I started a bit older than five but you stole that one, too after depression beat the **** out of me on Tuesday I thought that was it thought since the next morning I awoke without the urge to **** myself it was over nope you have robbed me of the simplest things in my life that give me pleasure no more wriggling moaning spasming the tingling sensation that starts in my toes and makes its way up the length of my body the warmness that follows with it the satisfaction slight smile snuggly sleepy post ****** me I miss her give her back I miss my life give it back this isn't ME for ***** sake! I am a ****** witty humorous creature full of passion looking for opportunities to get myself off! not this depressed apathetic vessel without soul. you won't stop until you have everything in my life you won't stop until you put my soul in your mouth chew grind crush it your saliva breaks me down spit me out please I am fighting for you to cough me up regurgitate the essence of me let me put myself back inside this body please please no you won't stop you will eat my soul until ever fiber protein ounce of health I had is now inside of you, depression cold-hearted *****
Continue reading...
196
what were Walt Disney's nefarious purposes behind inventing a cartoon landscape where children are subjected to an intense media driven recapitulation of childhood; a technology-driven experience of childhood; does a child know what constitutes its own childhood & what is corporate psychological product placement; coming from Middle America how did Walt Disney not find Jesus? in the  Transcendentalist American religion, Hollywood is Heaven & Vegas is Hell; therefore Disneyland is Purgatory - - I totally get that; Forbidden Planet & The Ten Commandments both had their special effects done by Disney; that Disney owns Marvel Comics means that half of all super heroes are Disney characters    the protagonists  in each of  the above mentioned films are            respectively: the Id monster & God
0
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 11:35 PM UTC
Walt Disney was the Antichrist [666]
I Craw in the Urban Jungle night after night, making shadows my best friend Because my pale skin would get sunburn in the day time. Many of you have read about me on the internet, But don't know if we exist like the Yeti or Bigfoot Every now and then you see photos of me and hear stories about our existence But here I am, White, Nerdy and…. Nerdy Nerdy like the Nerds falling out of the box and skipping on the floor of my lair (or my parents basement whatever you call it). Some moments you will find me praying to my shrine for my savior, Weird Al Yankovic Many of you may call us “ Losers” But let me take a moment to tell you why you are wrong, in every way. First off, We are not losers we just win at things that you don't care about Like the Rubik's Cube, Dungeon and Dragons, and Larping We don’t care about making friends, getting the poo tang, or getting high off of our ***** No we are too occupied trying to plan how we will survive the zombie apocalypse, Or debating on if Star Wars is better than Star Track. We are too busy reading comic books, Leveling up our one handedness On Skyrim of course. You think that we are hideous, But in all reality, my acne improves my defenses against mother nature, My braces are actually tools that government uses so they can reflect solar flares back to space I'm ugly because god decided to make me pick up girls on ******** mode because before you Meet me it was way too easy. Many of you think that we are weak I may have spaghetti arms, no abs, but you know what, no problem, Because if you look at my shadow, you see someone that 10 feet tall and bulletproof I am a nerd, hear me roar. My roar breaks your paper thin confidence As it just floats in the wind like leaves, leaving the tree in October My roar will rock your house with all of your friends leaving you alone because in the end, you May be popular but lets be honest, who are your real friends? Call me weak, I dare you Being a nerd has taught me many things Like don't eat cake because it is deceiving And that Neo should of taken the blue pill Because that movie series was terrible. And that DC Comics is the best, ***** Marvel But the one thing it taught me the most is that be proud of myself.
0
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
I Am a Nerd, Hear Me Roar
I Craw in the Urban Jungle night after night, making shadows my best friend Because my pale skin would get sunburn in the day time. Many of you have read about me on the internet, But don't know if we exist like the Yeti or Bigfoot Every now and then you see photos of me and hear stories about our existence But here I am, White, Nerdy and…. Nerdy Nerdy like the Nerds falling out of the box and skipping on the floor of my lair (or my parents basement whatever you call it). Some moments you will find me praying to my shrine for my savior, Weird Al Yankovic Many of you may call us “ Losers” But let me take a moment to tell you why you are wrong, in every way. First off, We are not losers we just win at things that you don't care about Like the Rubik's Cube, Dungeon and Dragons, and Larping We don’t care about making friends, getting the poo tang, or getting high off of our ***** No we are too occupied trying to plan how we will survive the zombie apocalypse, Or debating on if Star Wars is better than Star Track. We are too busy reading comic books, Leveling up our one handedness On Skyrim of course. You think that we are hideous, But in all reality, my acne improves my defenses against mother nature, My braces are actually tools that government uses so they can reflect solar flares back to space I'm ugly because god decided to make me pick up girls on ******** mode because before you Meet me it was way too easy. Many of you think that we are weak I may have spaghetti arms, no abs, but you know what, no problem, Because if you look at my shadow, you see someone that 10 feet tall and bulletproof I am a nerd, hear me roar. My roar breaks your paper thin confidence As it just floats in the wind like leaves, leaving the tree in October My roar will rock your house with all of your friends leaving you alone because in the end, you May be popular but lets be honest, who are your real friends? Call me weak, I dare you Being a nerd has taught me many things Like don't eat cake because it is deceiving And that Neo should of taken the blue pill Because that movie series was terrible. And that DC Comics is the best, ***** Marvel But the one thing it taught me the most is that be proud of myself.
Continue reading...
36
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start. The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle: Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp. "I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post. In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours. Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product. "Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!" On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page. "I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'" read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
0
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
This Supremely Awesome Wedding Cake Will Make You Do A Double Take
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start. The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle: Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp. "I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post. In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours. Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product. "Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!" On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page. "I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'" read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
Continue reading...
11
I love you for your laughter your soft hair the morning routines I tried to adopt, that you have down to a science the way you gaze into the abyss with tender expressions the careful footsteps the blushing falseness the pretty lace and ribbons the black eyeliner and studded collars BUT beards and hunting and fishing flannels and strength and handsome fellers truck stops and smoking whiskey and bonfires g i joe and spiderman but most of all batman and joker the complications of comics gaming on friday nights with bottles of bud I love men and boys and women and girls and ladies and gentlemen
0
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
To other women
Why are my heroes less real than yours? I'm so **** sick of that stupid cliche "cops and soldiers, and firefighters up up and away." None of them were there for me in any way. I don't give a crap if you won't follow or if I never see a "like" or a "favorite" again. God almighty couldn't stop my pen. So why are my heroes less real then yours? Isn't god just as real as mine? So shut the hell up and get back in line. you know who was there the day I couldn't stand. Not your heroes playing wars in the sand. Not your cops, who were off killing kids. No fire here, turn a deaf ear. The ones who were there for me on that day. Was a hero in red with horns on his head. A man all in black who dressed like a bat. A solider that stood for what a nation aspires. And a immigrant from who knows where. They taught me my morals from birth this I swear. They taught me right. They taught me wrong. I don't give a **** if you think I'm wrong. I will write comics as bright as the sun. I will save worlds with words. I won't apologise, don't insult the fire in my eyes. I've never questioned to what you aspired. I never met your heroes before but I respect the story's of yours in the war. Of cops who helped kids who didn't have a dime, of firefighters saving people in time. so leave mine alone they saved plenty they have. Even if its only the life of a depressed lonely lad.
0
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
superheroes
I was flabbergasted when given the chance To join the renowned Roscoe's Oddity Of Circus With no actual talent to speak of I was pretty much dead in the water worthless But Roscoe in all of his wisdom Put me in charge of the Bubble machine Low and behold people Turns out...Bubbles is "ME" I started out with simple patterns Blowing one treasure at a time As things progressed rather quickly I soon had Bubbles dancing in Mumba lines There wasn't a Bubble imagined In which I could not achieve But like I said at the very start Turns out...Bubbles is "ME" I even perfected what I like to call The "Fantabulious Bubbles De jour" In the Bubble circles in which I blow I've become quite the Bubble Lore My Bubble forte soon became Floating Bubbles of Super Stars *I'm not one to "POP" Bubble names* Suffice it to say you know who they are These days you don't have to go to the Circus If you'd like my talent to see I'm the one who does those Bubbles with the tiny words In the Sunday comics you read Why I've even been to the U.N. Where the "Big Cheese" was highly pleased The way I blew name tags and place mats For all the visiting Dignitaries But my favorite pastime after all these years Even with all the fortune and fame I've found Is relaxing with my Circus buddies And blowing Bubbles of "Bubbles the Clown" Just think when I joined the Circus I had no talent in which to show Who knew all it was that I needed Was one good bubble to blow
0
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 8:16 AM UTC
* Bubbles *
Wonder Woman has two meanings- the superhero in DC comics Or the one you keep scaring away cause you're looking at her too much Snap out of it
0
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
Wonder Woman
-music -writing -friends that care -kawaii shtuff -anime/manga -comics -hella sweet and cute ppl ;) -talking to my crush -teasing -learning something useful that i like -reading (especially cheesy romantic comedies) -most sports -talking nerdy -nerd/geek debates -youtube videos -playing guitar -playing video games -family -FOOD -photography -flirts -traveling -cows -clementines -YOU ^~^
0
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
Happy Challenge
Hare Krishna's In their Pickups Depressed Comics Down on their Luck Teenage Girls Screaming Meme's ****** Pinko's* Leftward Leaning Vincent Price Flo and Eddie Rodger Rabbit Priscilla Presley Nuns in Habits Dwarf's in Ponchos Deadbeat Dads Munching Nachos Right-Wing Nut Jobs Trading Slogans A few Hero's Including Hogan Are just a few of the sights you see At the front gates of Graceland Memphis, Tennessee Buddhist Monks With Electric Banjos Holding Signs Up Of Marlon Brando Taxi Cabs Blaring Show Tunes Pregnant Women Down-loading Soon Derby Jockeys Flying Monkeys Kool-Aidholics Skittle Junkies Bozo The Clown Bumper Stickers Psychedelic Crazed Toad Lickers Rhinestone Cowboys In their Skivvies Gothic Girls Heebie Jeebies Are just a few of the sights you see At the front gates of Graceland Memphis, Tennessee Blue Haired Granny's In pink Moo Moos Ballerina's In Tattered Tutus Mathematician's Number Crunchers Even have Some Out to Lunchers Model 50's *Do *** Daddies* One More Round Of Flo and Eddie People Sneaking Across the Border Lonely Fry Cooks Taking Orders A Few Wannabes Not Saying Much Will The Real Elvis Please Stand Up Are just a few of the sights that you see At the front gates of Graceland Memphis, Tennessee Thank you...Thank you very Much Ladies and Gentlemen Elvis...Has Left The Building
0
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
The Front Gates Of Graceland
I have a heart made to adore juvenile fantasies, despite modern tragedies. In moments of madness when modern photography presents to me the horrors of humanity I can engage for a minute and escape the insanity in the comics that carry super hero forms. When I see bombs that blister skin till flesh bursts revealing red disfigurement I can travel in my own mental compartment to escape this. I can revisit Winnie the pooh or review the crew of “Star Trek The Next Generation.” When mind numbing poverty rears its sad faces at me, with stranger’s eyes and thin lips quivering in lonely desperation, despite my empathy I have a gift for escaping the irrationality of human suffering. I just sip the soft brew of nostalgia for old cartoons recalling a slightly saner time, when all the sorrows were only mine, when I ached with a mother’s fury but tv shows saw me distracted the fact is I have been escaping my whole life, and I don’t see that changing.
0
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
Untitled 12
As kids We were taught to cheer for the hero The picture perfect role model The one we all strived to be The one that always found a way to win No matter what the odds He always made the decisions He Should make And the only mistakes he made Were ones that could be corrected So he could keep his perfect image We cheered for the hero because When he was faced with tragedy He didn't drown in sorrow But instead used it as a springboard To become something greater He always saved the day And everyone who needed And he never failed to rescue someone Not even once So we held him up high Because that's what we wanted to be But overtime We learned that the hero is just a fantasy He only lives in comics Because that's where he was meant to be So we learned to side with the villain Not because we're evil But because the villain is more real More human When the villain was faced with tragedy He did what was human He attempted to swim In the flood of sorrow But couldn't swim forever He drowned The villain is relatable He makes the decision We Would make He did what he thought was right Or at least what was necessary To provide the needs of Or to avenge His family But eventually He became blinded To what he did And he couldn't see That he was wrong Because the villain isn't perfect He's just like us The villain is human So we side with the villain Becuase we feel his pain We relate with his emotions We understand his actions Perfection is something we can't be So we stopped cheering for the hero When we realized that's who we can never be And started to side with the villain Because he's just like you and me
0
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 4:48 PM UTC
Just Like Us
As kids We were taught to cheer for the hero The picture perfect role model The one we all strived to be The one that always found a way to win No matter what the odds He always made the decisions He Should make And the only mistakes he made Were ones that could be corrected So he could keep his perfect image We cheered for the hero because When he was faced with tragedy He didn't drown in sorrow But instead used it as a springboard To become something greater He always saved the day And everyone who needed And he never failed to rescue someone Not even once So we held him up high Because that's what we wanted to be But overtime We learned that the hero is just a fantasy He only lives in comics Because that's where he was meant to be So we learned to side with the villain Not because we're evil But because the villain is more real More human When the villain was faced with tragedy He did what was human He attempted to swim In the flood of sorrow But couldn't swim forever He drowned The villain is relatable He makes the decision We Would make He did what he thought was right Or at least what was necessary To provide the needs of Or to avenge His family But eventually He became blinded To what he did And he couldn't see That he was wrong Because the villain isn't perfect He's just like us The villain is human So we side with the villain Becuase we feel his pain We relate with his emotions We understand his actions Perfection is something we can't be So we stopped cheering for the hero When we realized that's who we can never be And started to side with the villain Because he's just like you and me
Continue reading...
61
If I let my eyes glaze over just right, I get a nice film quality picture. I hover out of my body- like a mad director, evaluating what we've got, I snip the film strips from my memory, franticaly re-piecing together the story. I didn't get the shots I wanted. I feel hollow and sick. Playing and re-playing the scenes where it all went to the dregs. Maybe if I were paying closer attention- I could have gotten it right. I could've rearranged the shot list- so "major life accident" was at the end of the movie- not the beginning.   Sorting through what we're left with, I hear no mellow music scoring my mothers choked sobs. No soft glow to hide the harsh lines of grief described on her face. The bottles of liquor weren't props. And when the sound of silence rendered her breathless- no one was there to yell "CUT"! I grit my teeth and hold back my seething anger at such a **** writer. This is not a sci-fi film. No alien plummets to earth eager to turn back the sands of time because there was a fluke in the configubobulator. Not a romantic comedy, where his smashed body miraculously recovers and my mother, him, and all the kids pursue their dreams as a family of comics on the road- The jackson 5 of stand up! No inspiring action film where the government tests a bionic exoskeleton, connects it to his brains nervous system, and after wild success he dedicates his life to intergalactic vigilante work, as well as a remaining a reliable family man. There's no sending it back for re-writes. There is no 1 hero to lean on. No villain to hate. Only us. I hope one day, it's enough. I hope one day we have a film we can be proud of.
0
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
All the magic happens in post.
If I let my eyes glaze over just right, I get a nice film quality picture. I hover out of my body- like a mad director, evaluating what we've got, I snip the film strips from my memory, franticaly re-piecing together the story. I didn't get the shots I wanted. I feel hollow and sick. Playing and re-playing the scenes where it all went to the dregs. Maybe if I were paying closer attention- I could have gotten it right. I could've rearranged the shot list- so "major life accident" was at the end of the movie- not the beginning.   Sorting through what we're left with, I hear no mellow music scoring my mothers choked sobs. No soft glow to hide the harsh lines of grief described on her face. The bottles of liquor weren't props. And when the sound of silence rendered her breathless- no one was there to yell "CUT"! I grit my teeth and hold back my seething anger at such a **** writer. This is not a sci-fi film. No alien plummets to earth eager to turn back the sands of time because there was a fluke in the configubobulator. Not a romantic comedy, where his smashed body miraculously recovers and my mother, him, and all the kids pursue their dreams as a family of comics on the road- The jackson 5 of stand up! No inspiring action film where the government tests a bionic exoskeleton, connects it to his brains nervous system, and after wild success he dedicates his life to intergalactic vigilante work, as well as a remaining a reliable family man. There's no sending it back for re-writes. There is no 1 hero to lean on. No villain to hate. Only us. I hope one day, it's enough. I hope one day we have a film we can be proud of.
Continue reading...
25
A true American icon, a hero. Helped guide millions in crises, From World War 2 to today. Allowing people to be vicarious, He gave the nation hope, At a time when they needed it most. He changed America and has saved lives. Comics can impact people like church.
0
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
“Superman”
*This is a poem for Rachel Corrie. I am not religious, and a far cry from spiritual, but I refuse to imagine Rachel Corrie insentient and six feet under, slowly amalgamating with the soil encasing her. Before her death, Rachel Corrie said “I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my co-workers. But I also want this to stop.” In the words of contemporary Palestinian poet Suheir Hammad “God has a better imagination than all of us combined” in either God's words or my own, I will not imagine in/on the same ground in/on which I maybe soon will be and more words from Suheir “What do I tell young people about non-violence when they can see for themselves how even orange bright and megaphone loud and cameras and US citizenship will not stop your ****** what do I tell young people/anyone even myself about “non-violence” when every single thing I've seen presenting itself/perhaps even masquerading as “non-violence” has been in my face and /rude/harsh/unavoidable and most of all, violent? I do not believe in God and humanity is pushing it's luck, but I believe in Rachel Corrie. This is for Rachel;* I should study a she-wolf's prose she wanted to write about death but life would frequently weasel and wheedle it's way in there’s an overhanging image a smaller yet infinitely larger organism continuously broached by each word I only want to study a caterpillar’s motion backward/forward /onward across arms/legs of this deer/dear [her] surname/ [my] given name/ separated by [semi/totally] circular VOWels ***** blond hair dirtied by dust / rubble / rhyme /reason/ whatever/ in compliance with a rep/RESENT/ative democracy several shades lighter literally figuratively whiter than she need no permission pat benatar would/should croon to your moves every boy and girl friend i will/may/have/had should be yours entomo/insecto/[social] phobias I never would’ve said so I never would’ve/ could’ve told the caterpillar to go
0
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 8:41 PM UTC
Waggish Recall
*This is a poem for Rachel Corrie. I am not religious, and a far cry from spiritual, but I refuse to imagine Rachel Corrie insentient and six feet under, slowly amalgamating with the soil encasing her. Before her death, Rachel Corrie said “I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my co-workers. But I also want this to stop.” In the words of contemporary Palestinian poet Suheir Hammad “God has a better imagination than all of us combined” in either God's words or my own, I will not imagine in/on the same ground in/on which I maybe soon will be and more words from Suheir “What do I tell young people about non-violence when they can see for themselves how even orange bright and megaphone loud and cameras and US citizenship will not stop your ****** what do I tell young people/anyone even myself about “non-violence” when every single thing I've seen presenting itself/perhaps even masquerading as “non-violence” has been in my face and /rude/harsh/unavoidable and most of all, violent? I do not believe in God and humanity is pushing it's luck, but I believe in Rachel Corrie. This is for Rachel;* I should study a she-wolf's prose she wanted to write about death but life would frequently weasel and wheedle it's way in there’s an overhanging image a smaller yet infinitely larger organism continuously broached by each word I only want to study a caterpillar’s motion backward/forward /onward across arms/legs of this deer/dear [her] surname/ [my] given name/ separated by [semi/totally] circular VOWels ***** blond hair dirtied by dust / rubble / rhyme /reason/ whatever/ in compliance with a rep/RESENT/ative democracy several shades lighter literally figuratively whiter than she need no permission pat benatar would/should croon to your moves every boy and girl friend i will/may/have/had should be yours entomo/insecto/[social] phobias I never would’ve said so I never would’ve/ could’ve told the caterpillar to go
Continue reading...
46
the newspaper spread out like a tablecloth obituaries on one side comics on the other the dead smiling the comics tragic black white gray world made of fuzzy dots an obsolete medium ready to line the bottom of the song bird’s cage a nightingale whose love call goes unanswered
0
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 1:10 AM UTC
song bird’s cage
Once I saw a monkey man, driving down my street in his monkey van, kids tried to run away, but monkey ran, he brought the children to his monkey land. If they got out of line, with monkey man, they'd get a slap, from the back of his hand. The favorite nut of monkey man, was the pecan, he loved pecans, the monkey man, he eats as manys as he cans. Unlimited lifespan, has the monkey man, currently lives in Iran. Likes to read comics, batman, superman, while getting, a monkey tan. Been around, since the caveman, had the monkey man. Used to be a doorman, had monkey man. Wanted to be an anchorman, but there was a monkey ban. Not a woman. Not a man. M o n k e y    M a n .
0
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC
I Saw A Monkey Man One Time.
I Put down your wooden blocks, Miyagi - Smashing stuff against your head and shredding the Yellow Pages Is child's play to me I can split atoms with my teeth! II Hey, long time no see, Miyagi What's that you say? You got caught in the fallout and now you're radioactive Just like me? That's great, buddy, We'll call you the Blue Flash And we can team up Fight the darkness together ...You say you lost all your teeth, and your hair is next..? Hey, Miyagi, that's not funny... That kinda **** doesn't happen in comics Where an accident in a science lab or an experiment with nuclear energy Lands you a seat in the superhero hall of fame And then you adopt a suitably awesome superhero name No, you have to be mistaken Look at me - I didn't die from radiation A steady dose has given me powers Beyond my wildest dreams But for you, it seems more like a bad dream Your white blood cell count drop, drop dropping Your body getting weaker Instead of stronger No, no, this can''t be happening You say you can't go a day Without the nausea and the vomiting You pray for relief, for this Journey into Misery to end Here, Miyagi, my friend - take hold of my hand And I will do my best to defend you In your final stand You and I, old bud, Fighting the darkness together
0
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
Radioactive Man
By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A cop was butchered They knifed his chest And indifferently examined Red flowers just grown on his soul asylum Red flowers On his soul asylum The blood splashed on the children’s faces It’s no blood it must be freckles It is blood It’s no blood it must be freckles By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A sleepless cop was killed He had been reading Naked Lunch all night long And then they killed him And the kids Freckle-faced Each bought an ice-cream And threw the changes into the face of A beggar with a boyish haircut By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A proud cop was killed His eyelashes smashed the sun into pieces once and for all And once and for all his lips repeated: Kids Heroine Tangier By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A cop was butchered He knew nothing about the literary work of a poet Dmitry Alexandrovich Prigov He just remembered his name From a literary radio program In November or April On the left side of the supermarket From the darkness and the wall scripts of the entrance A cop appeared like a comics character With a cap on and a stiff collar, he had been cutting through the darkness and air And he somehow reminded a shark Huge and white By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A courageous cop was killed Then he got up and walked across The river, which does not divide a city into two parts He walked with pride He’d got the power To taste the sea Without getting wet.
0
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
Killing a Cop
By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A cop was butchered They knifed his chest And indifferently examined Red flowers just grown on his soul asylum Red flowers On his soul asylum The blood splashed on the children’s faces It’s no blood it must be freckles It is blood It’s no blood it must be freckles By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A sleepless cop was killed He had been reading Naked Lunch all night long And then they killed him And the kids Freckle-faced Each bought an ice-cream And threw the changes into the face of A beggar with a boyish haircut By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A proud cop was killed His eyelashes smashed the sun into pieces once and for all And once and for all his lips repeated: Kids Heroine Tangier By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A cop was butchered He knew nothing about the literary work of a poet Dmitry Alexandrovich Prigov He just remembered his name From a literary radio program In November or April On the left side of the supermarket From the darkness and the wall scripts of the entrance A cop appeared like a comics character With a cap on and a stiff collar, he had been cutting through the darkness and air And he somehow reminded a shark Huge and white By the entrance, On the left side of the supermarket A courageous cop was killed Then he got up and walked across The river, which does not divide a city into two parts He walked with pride He’d got the power To taste the sea Without getting wet.
Continue reading...
52
"O WORDS ARE POOR RECEIPTS FOR WHAT TIME HATH STOLE AWAY" The summer sky tried me on to see if it fit or I fitted it. It was not used to being a 7 year old boy. I quite liked the exchange to have clouds for eyes birds flying though all my thoughts wearing a rainbow in my hair. To have a heart that shone like the sun. The summer of '63 ran about my bedroom looked out windows ran down stairs three at a time kicked a ball against a wall swopped comics marbles and conkers recited "I remember, I remember" to itself until it could remember it. Absolutely loved me Da being its Da the kisses of my Ma the laughter of a brother. Oh what a thing it was being human. I, in due course was an about-to-be thunderstorm clumping about the evening like hobnail boots on marble tiles. Thunder and lightning the whole works. I could have gone on for a forever chasing horizons making up the days to come. But the summer sky had taken all it could take of being a little boy. So many thoughts running about a head that was only just about 7 so that it fell asleep and when it awoke it was no longer me but itself the summer of '63. I too had released the sky back to the how it should and has to be. My thoughts scattered like birds by a chance church bell telling time its Angelus or a knell to end it all. I still remember all of it as if it had really really happened.
0
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 6:09 AM UTC
"O WORDS ARE POOR RECEIPTS FOR WHAT TIME HATH STOLE AWAY"
i am abrasive personality functionality deficit yet i attract beautiful women to befriend the hermit of solidarity will you go out with me brought answers on no my friend i could not lose yet for the end of altruistic bargaining i end up ahead with false promises of a beginning to an end my own personal apocalypse david lee roth would understand that as i write in this mindset brought on by reading 778 comics in 12 hours and a 4 day binge of job for a cowboy my mind wanders as insomnia sets in would i be one of the great dissociative poets? a dose of the unrequited free associative minds free thinking form of diet coke with a side of purple strawberries no i meant blueberries my mind wanders and yet i look forward to pad thai on wednesdays with cute blondes whom with i stand the chance of a bat in the mosh pits of a metal band suckers i win for you all know the taste of yellow mustard ramble ramble ramble this indie pop poem would it be ironic to like it if one truly hates the wording and yet loves the idea one of lives greatest life mysteries alcohol i bid thee a fair welcome nimble bubblegum monkey wrench how long will you read? enough to to see my lack of coherent sentence structure or that i am a flawed creation going on and on about existential non existent problems for i shall exist regardless of my best intentions as the wheel continues to roll on despite the moss covering this ice slicked track metal boar slayer of a thousand suns would be a good metal name from sweden the mooring dove coos to the beat of an undead drum boo hoo boo hoo cries the witch at the stake i am done
0
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
***
i am abrasive personality functionality deficit yet i attract beautiful women to befriend the hermit of solidarity will you go out with me brought answers on no my friend i could not lose yet for the end of altruistic bargaining i end up ahead with false promises of a beginning to an end my own personal apocalypse david lee roth would understand that as i write in this mindset brought on by reading 778 comics in 12 hours and a 4 day binge of job for a cowboy my mind wanders as insomnia sets in would i be one of the great dissociative poets? a dose of the unrequited free associative minds free thinking form of diet coke with a side of purple strawberries no i meant blueberries my mind wanders and yet i look forward to pad thai on wednesdays with cute blondes whom with i stand the chance of a bat in the mosh pits of a metal band suckers i win for you all know the taste of yellow mustard ramble ramble ramble this indie pop poem would it be ironic to like it if one truly hates the wording and yet loves the idea one of lives greatest life mysteries alcohol i bid thee a fair welcome nimble bubblegum monkey wrench how long will you read? enough to to see my lack of coherent sentence structure or that i am a flawed creation going on and on about existential non existent problems for i shall exist regardless of my best intentions as the wheel continues to roll on despite the moss covering this ice slicked track metal boar slayer of a thousand suns would be a good metal name from sweden the mooring dove coos to the beat of an undead drum boo hoo boo hoo cries the witch at the stake i am done
Continue reading...
49
Dedicated to John and Bob From first flesh we move down widening halls That lead to lives of wondrous walls. Our spidered fingers gripped walls of brick, Cruets, cups and candle sticks. Incense clouded open graves When we too believed we too were saved. Between Annex walls we learned our phonics, On tin-roofed walls we lived our comics. Garage walls scaled showed different views, Kitchen walls steamed with soups and stews. Our school yard walls tallied pitches That marked our summers of youth and wishes. Now lift memory's pane and go back To the white-framed walls of a secret shack. There, in confusion we would cling To the unknown wonders girls would bring. These young boys' walls we both outgrew; Now new walls sprang, as we did too. Coffee House walls offered something new. Wet kisses lingered near shadowy walls, We heard poetry read in a backroom stall. Recreationals made our new skin crawl. Cliff walls were breached by stairs of clay, Carved by Incas on a turquoise day. Tent walls echoed with impish fray, Green walls beckoned at the end of day. These walls gave rise to hot desires, Like Vikings planning funeral pyres. New music, cheers and weekend guests Stood us ***** to pound our chests. Those walls no longer ring our shores; Time swept us forward with worldly lures. We doffed our coats of suede and frills, And donned new clothes and workday skills. The walls of work are a rocky climb, Stones laid by us, for yours and mine. Such towers & turrets of heart & hearth Guard all we know of any worth. I see distant walls on cliffs, in fields; Where do they lead? What will they yield? Yet, there three friends climb one more hill, Climb one more wall. Then all is still.
0
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
Our Walls
Dedicated to John and Bob From first flesh we move down widening halls That lead to lives of wondrous walls. Our spidered fingers gripped walls of brick, Cruets, cups and candle sticks. Incense clouded open graves When we too believed we too were saved. Between Annex walls we learned our phonics, On tin-roofed walls we lived our comics. Garage walls scaled showed different views, Kitchen walls steamed with soups and stews. Our school yard walls tallied pitches That marked our summers of youth and wishes. Now lift memory's pane and go back To the white-framed walls of a secret shack. There, in confusion we would cling To the unknown wonders girls would bring. These young boys' walls we both outgrew; Now new walls sprang, as we did too. Coffee House walls offered something new. Wet kisses lingered near shadowy walls, We heard poetry read in a backroom stall. Recreationals made our new skin crawl. Cliff walls were breached by stairs of clay, Carved by Incas on a turquoise day. Tent walls echoed with impish fray, Green walls beckoned at the end of day. These walls gave rise to hot desires, Like Vikings planning funeral pyres. New music, cheers and weekend guests Stood us ***** to pound our chests. Those walls no longer ring our shores; Time swept us forward with worldly lures. We doffed our coats of suede and frills, And donned new clothes and workday skills. The walls of work are a rocky climb, Stones laid by us, for yours and mine. Such towers & turrets of heart & hearth Guard all we know of any worth. I see distant walls on cliffs, in fields; Where do they lead? What will they yield? Yet, there three friends climb one more hill, Climb one more wall. Then all is still.
Continue reading...
43
if the sinking-of-boat …ice-cream by name be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood … by name roll no 31 then would the wings of the comics cease to exist what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling from the stomach of the moon what writes the pus and blood what writes the fuming-hot rice the creepers and the herbs grow continuously in the insomniac bath-tub the sounds of the horse-hoof floated by the river used to change the velocity of its clothes both in the morning and evening the birds from the cornice go to school by dip-swimming it may come one day when the fishes become very angry and in the tale of the sweet-meat the potter will destroy the jointly-built bee-hive then all hurricane would be habituated to dinner sans saliva then there would be no such morning-walk in the body of the trees from which such a bore could be found out through which an elderly saral may fly into the blue translation of a squirrel the magnetic field of the orange-pulp and the productivity of the open window reside in the same locality if their frequency be touched   then the the antenna of the mermaids speared with sleeping-oil may be injured by burnings their eyes the crow-birds knocks at in the soap-foams produced by the afternoon the pond with a jumping deer wants to make bite   it is not known by this way when a white hyphen sticks to the palate of the shirt now put off all the whispers and let it be talked on the will-paper of the bees why the pages from the honourable ash-trays be excluded those bunch of waters that come out from the churning of the anises and the jumps born of their ***** also make friends with the group-photos now let this other night sends its best wishes to the future candles through a cell-phone
0
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 5:25 PM UTC
soap-song
if the sinking-of-boat …ice-cream by name be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood … by name roll no 31 then would the wings of the comics cease to exist what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling from the stomach of the moon what writes the pus and blood what writes the fuming-hot rice the creepers and the herbs grow continuously in the insomniac bath-tub the sounds of the horse-hoof floated by the river used to change the velocity of its clothes both in the morning and evening the birds from the cornice go to school by dip-swimming it may come one day when the fishes become very angry and in the tale of the sweet-meat the potter will destroy the jointly-built bee-hive then all hurricane would be habituated to dinner sans saliva then there would be no such morning-walk in the body of the trees from which such a bore could be found out through which an elderly saral may fly into the blue translation of a squirrel the magnetic field of the orange-pulp and the productivity of the open window reside in the same locality if their frequency be touched   then the the antenna of the mermaids speared with sleeping-oil may be injured by burnings their eyes the crow-birds knocks at in the soap-foams produced by the afternoon the pond with a jumping deer wants to make bite   it is not known by this way when a white hyphen sticks to the palate of the shirt now put off all the whispers and let it be talked on the will-paper of the bees why the pages from the honourable ash-trays be excluded those bunch of waters that come out from the churning of the anises and the jumps born of their ***** also make friends with the group-photos now let this other night sends its best wishes to the future candles through a cell-phone
Continue reading...
52
I was six or seven I realized the dragonball Z comics I was drawing needed a story line to make any **** sense that was the first time Then I was twelve writing gangsta rap with my friends a group of English farm kids who couldn't be any whiter That's when I realized who she was By fourteen I was writing things which resembled stories only not really fifteen sixteen seventeen they were growing stronger February of my eighteenth year I wrote that first poem I thought it ****** and it did but still people liked it poem after story after novel attempt after poem after story after... almost twenty years old the words are thicker shorter harder but still, we're not there but I can't wait until the days of matrimony bells ringing in empty churches the day were you give in to my I do We'll write our own vows burn our sacred cows we'll write a love story which won't ever be forgotten
0
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
A Love Story