"kryptonite" poems
the walls of the inside passage
look the same from sound to straight
tugs and plugs dot the coastline
as the quartermaster rolls
giving time for evening glare
pods are in sequence
as the high tail smashes and jaws at the krill
white bellies and sea cows bob and weave
as bow heads glide over haida gwaii
northern lights dance
and tlingit chant
as the tide settles softly on savory shores
their getting hungry in hoonah
as the blue back and beating drums
mark the life blood of the sea
driftwood nets
and sitka spruce
surround the cook house
ravens and tinhorns
man the scullery
kerosene lamps flicker
as clam shells roast
on open flames
villagers stroll
on pebbled sand
*in the harbor of souls
where ships set sail
on might and mass
into the steady winds
of the golden skies*
ice fields (to the north)
of kryptonite blue
cutting hills at
a glacial pace
knuckle clouds
above the snowline
where warlocks
craft a hidden trade
trappers, skinners
muscle shoals
grizzly feasts
in kodiak bowl
determined pilgrims
on a dead horse trail
in search of gold
the holy grail
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
...about to do FORTY YEARS...
**how much
more do
you need
to see
that you
are in
a tyranny?**
This is akin to handing Socrates a poisoned vial
Dre,
in his new documentary on HBO...
he says,
if it doesn't feel right
I'M OUT.
* Does THIS feel right? *
a million+white kids feel yah,
a million plus
feel
yah
TIME
TO GET OUT!
9/29/2017
If I were a White Judge,
Man
what i would give to
have gone to law school
and been a White Judge
Right Now
A Black Capitalist acts like J.P. Morgan
* *"Off the chain I leave CONGRESS soft in the brain cause SCUMBAGS still want the fame,
off the name, First of all, you ain't STOLE long enough to be fu ckin with me
and you, you ain't strong enough
So whatever it is you puffin on that got you think that you
Superman I got the Kryptonite, should I smack him with my **** and the mic?"* *
-DMX (sic)
reverse
psychology
works
don't it?
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 6:02 PM UTC
The Insecurities are flourishing,
A gorgeous garden is my mind—
But the weeds keep growing in.
Media like kryptonite—weakening my self esteem.
—Thoughts of a young child never knowing what to believe.
I lie awake in bed at night staring at the ceiling.
If only the notion could suffice in finding the words—
For the void I'm feeling in my life,
But it isn't simple.
Pure corruption of my mind,
Perfect pictures,
Flawless figures,
The images I can't erase.
Uncomfortable in my own skin—
What do I do to feel safe?
Do I drown myself in ink—to cover up the imperfections?
Instead of talking—walk and let my skin scream the self-expression?
Or do I return to the blank stare in the mirror?
The words are on repeat.
Who am I to think I’m beautiful—when I myself can’t see?
Who am I to think I'm valuable—when there is no self-confidence there?
Who am I to think I'm worthy—when I myself don't feel?
The insecurities keep flourishing.
A gorgeous garden was my mind,
But the weeds kept growing in.
Media like kryptonite—weakening my self esteem.
Thoughts of a young child,
--Never knowing what to believe.
One night as I lie awake—I hear my subconscious scream out to me.
The most attractive people do the ugliest of things,
The true beauty you want is what’s imprisoned within.
Why stop your happiness to return to a place—
—A place where you feel so alone?
Why do the tears flow?
You're killing yourself—
And you fail to realize
Your own self-doubt is the knife!
Pessimism,
The negative thoughts building inside—
They’re just as bad as the razorblade that kisses your skin as you sit in silence...
Why are you hurting yourself?
Temporary pain is only a distraction,
You were blessed and shaped by the hands of God.
What more could you possibly ask for?
Appearance is not everything.—
Stop the self-consciousness and live your life.
—acknowledge that you —are your worst —enemy...
I open my eyes.
The cries have ceased,
I return to the blank stare in the mirror.
The words are on repeat.
Who am I to think I’m beautiful—when I myself can’t see?
Who am I to think I'm valuable—when there is no self-confidence there?
Who am I to think I'm worthy—when I myself don't feel?
But it’s different this time,
My reflection speaks.
Saying no—
Who are you not to?
Your imperfections are beautiful.
Beautiful enough for the heart that is meant to love you,
Believe in yourself.
No more self doubt,
No more lost soul.
—No more insecurities flourishing,
A gorgeous garden is my mind.
No more weeds keep growing in,
Media is not my kryptonite,
No more weakening of my self esteem,
Thoughts of a young child finally unshackled —and free.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
I had built a wall
Layer by layer
Mortar and stone
Until it was so high
And so strong
I thought no one could break it.
But I overlooked something
Because when I was done
There you were.
You just slipped right past my wall
Without even noticing its presence.
I was too surprised to push you out.
And then a funny thing happened
I was happy
And at peace with the world
And reconsidering my wall
Reconsidering
What I was protecting myself from.
I didn't have much of myself
To give away
But I gave you some of what was left
But not so much
That it would destroy me
To have to take it back.
Because I'd been though that before
I gave away so much
And still most of it is gone.
I've been hurt into being
More cautious with my feelings
Than I used to be.
And it turned out to be
A good thing
A blessing inside a curse
Because when you gave that piece back
It hurt
But I knew it could have been worse.
Because you can't break something
That's already been broken
By another.
There wasn't any part of me I gave you
That you could destroy
I didn't give you that.
I keep my heart close to me
Because it belongs to another
You were only borrowing what I had left.
So I will be fine
Because I've been through worse
And you are not my Kryptonite.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 12:54 AM UTC
Sometimes I watch “superheroes”
And think just how lucky they are
They can spin a web for the one they love
and become New York’s superstar
When I think about these characters
And the powers they can use
I can’t help but wonder
Which powers I would choose
If I had superpowers
I’d speed up time
We’d have a place of our own
And you’d be all mine
We could stay up all night
We could watch the sunrise
I’d tell you you’re beautiful
And get lost in your eyes
I’m no superhero
But baby you make me fly
Some heroes don’t have powers
Rather a pocket full of money
They buy all their gadgets
To defeat jokers that aren’t so funny
Only their true loves know
Who they are behind the amour
But I don’t have the cash it takes
To be that dark knight charmer
If I had superpowers
I’d speed up time
We’d have a place of our own
And you’d be all mine
We could stay up all night
We could watch the sunrise
I’d tell you you’re beautiful
And get lost in your eyes
I’m no superhero
But baby you make me fly
I would fly around the world a million times
Just to keep you by my side
I would hold you in my arms and fly up high
Just to take you for a ride
I will always be there
I will fight your fight
I will never let go
Because losing you is my kryptonite
I’m no superhero
But baby you make me fly
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
Superheroes inspire us all,
superheroes make us marvel.
Superheroes are adored
from Beijing to Washington D.C.
But superheroes don't wear capes,
they wear a '96 Olympic shirt
and loose-fitting pants
you would never catch me in.
They don't have x-ray vision,
they've worn glasses
for as long as you remember.
They cannot fly,
and yet they seem larger than life.
They never seem to lie,
and they still say "I love you"
in the exact same way
almost sixty years after they bound it to eternity.
They don't have super-strength,
but they are your super strength
and they lift you up
until you can do it on your own.
They seem invincible,
but life has a way of reminding you
that even Superman has Kryptonite.
They are stubbornly steady
even when the bill of health
isn't clean.
Just as they are your strength,
you feel your aching mortality
when you find out
even superheroes get cancer.
Yet somehow,
after their greatest battle is fought,
there they are in all that remains
spreading an unyielding light
upon whoever sees them soaring by.
We wear an "S", a bat,
or even a spider
to pretend that we are our heroes
and emulate their image;
but I won't wear that old shirt,
or those terrible, worn-in jeans.
Instead,
I'll harness that unbreakable spirit,
and maybe one day
I'll be a superhero too.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
but you are my Kryptonite,
and my Lois Lane.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Is it a bird?
Or is it a plane?
It's… It's… It's…
It's no limit to your dreams,
What you so desire to aspire to be,
All you must do as hard as it seems
Is believe that you can succeed;
Others may try to hinder you stride,
Some will so much as doubt you indeed,
But you cannot surrender to kryptonite,
Because I see the superwoman you are to me.
Dignified, poised, strong,
A superwoman you are to see;
Confident, able, young,
The superwoman you are to me;
What a superwoman, to the rescue
Even for villains whose ridicules tested you,
They cannot outwit the superwoman..
You are to me.
You have been mistreated,
By slander, blackmail, and betrayal;
Somehow you still stand undefeated,
No one has seized you to fail;
You are a heroine, a matriarch
A woman of admiration in any degree;
Willing to give and help from your heart,
And that's the superwoman you are to me.
Dignified, poised, strong,
A superwoman you are to see;
Confident, able, young,
The superwoman you are to me;
What a superwoman, to the rescue
Even for villains whose ridicules tested you,
They cannot outwit the superwoman..
You are to me.
It's Superwoman!!!
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
*The two felt a chemical attraction.
Serotonin leaked onto his uncovered skin.
He couldn't speak, his tongue dried, dehydrated by her heat.
**** those eyes were like Kryptonite, He had pride in himself for being a statue.
Smooth as a razor blade he came out of that conversation dull.
The wrong impression was given since he had handed her rotten flowers.
Give me a second to recollect my thoughts and bring them back from the stunned blackout, wow, you are such a powerful knockout.
I'm fixing my posture and choosing my words right.
Our symbols are well matched and I'm not talking astrology, I'm talking chemistry.
Two different colors mixed together makes her blush and makes me crush.*
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
"silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.” ― friedrich nietzsche
like poking the hornet's nest with a stick, you are a rose with stems and thorns so thick,
your skin is protection from oppression, keeping the world out of your private channels
like i'm AM and you're FM all of which are static with distorted voices only science can pry through your enigmatic cacophony on a molecular level, and any evidence of who you are, i couldn't find with years of knowledge, a indestructible ship could speak more evidence about
why it was annihilated, obliterated, disintegrated under the ocean for months at a time without
any current survivors, and the last person i could be described as would be Sherlock Holmes
every detail washes over my head like a flood of details that can't enter because a force field
surround my head like it's a crown being so clueless, but it feels like i'm wearing a dunce hat
and maybe i do realize that there will be a position where you will be put out into light
there is no way out of your mind, like a schizophrenic, if kryptonite killed superman,
can it **** the infectious virus spreading like wildfire through these veins, can you stop
worrying about when you will finally break down and open up to someone?
****
- kra
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
Lust is craving
The flesh of another
Lust is desiring
a late night lover
Lust is grinding and biting
And soaking covers
Lust Is moaning and begging
For the moon never to go under
Lust is powerful,
It's the mortals kryptonite
Lust has driven the best of us to madness
All over the experience of one night
Lust is desire,
expressed through the body
Lust is wanton sin that the devil
Wouldn't relish in
Lust is... this night
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC
Im watching over them...those freaks and perverted beast...the dark flesh that owns the land..I save them from there doom...keep them out those tombs...my job is to protect the sick...as I sit...I glimpse and I see a ray of hope...
Purity...from the ***** of my imperfection...I began to be aroused...thought about swooping down, in a single bound..being so cliche'..but I've since grown from my stereotypical ways....Cuz this world here ain't kind to no hero..this worlds only sin painted in a mural...But she could be the one...my chance to save the day!!...But they wanna **** the hero...they say **** the hero....Try to save the hoes...but I think I save a woman...kryptonite to my sins...She could be the cleanse...I could actually win...
-Dairy of a ****** superhero.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
Kepp working, stay on my grind. God, school and moneys only on my mind. Lovely women happen to come by and that's fine. Touch my paper and I will decline.
Stress build, heavy weight on my mind. Trying to walk with god and take life one day at a time. People take what they want and ask for more. I don't hustle because I am poor (I'm not), its in my blood (a clot).
Had my hustle ever reached my core, it would attack me and stop my beat. Soul song silenced for eternity for desiring to achieve greatness. Such a paradoxacal oximoron drifts throughout my body keeping me alive unbeknownced to my concienceness.
My kryptonite is infact what makes me a super solider. For ever I will fight waging a mental spiritual war. I pull the trigger at whatever stands in my way and eliminate the prey for I am the predator. In future roles will switch and I will hear the heavenly bell ring, such a divine pitch.
So for no I fight and fight I will. Untill the kryptonite reached my heart and it attacks me. My internal double edge sword. Hustle.
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 7:11 PM UTC
there nothing left
he says I'm so sorry
as superman eats kryptonite
it burns inside
the pain almost as bad as has been his hole life
but it's familiar
like a face you haven't seen in many years
Lois lane was shot and killed
because superman had loved her dear
and the farm was sold when Jon and Martha ran all out of years
so he sits around and wonders
hanging hollow from his fears
so he looks down at the bottles that have gathered on the floor
and calls up old Lex Luthor in a move to end the war
when he came his nose constrained as the smell of ***** pervaded
supper man gave him a gun
thanked him for the games
he told the tale from his perspective and asked lex to deal the blow
because he new he had worked for it and didn't want to take his goal
so with a bang his life was ended not a word more ever spoke
and to this day the name will still make pore old lex tear up and choke
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 3:28 AM UTC
I don't
claim
to be
a superman
but I can
tell you
this,
my
kryptonite
is alcohol.
Just pour
me one
straight up
and watch my fall.
When
I die
I want
my spirit
to fly,
lock in on
my prey
from far,
far away.
Only rattling
bones
I can assume,
will be rattling
around
in my tomb.
Perhaps
it is better
to scatter my
ashes to the wind.
Because
really all
I will do
is just carry
my light in
to another room.
That's it,
I'll just
carry my light
in to another room.
© 2014
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
You know,
I've realized
that you don't need
to fly
to be Superman.
You don't need to be strong
to be Superman.
You don't have to be fast
to be Superman.
You don't have to have super vision,
super hearing,
super intelligence,
or super breath
to be Superman.
We all have a weakness,
yours is said to be
Kryptonite.
You don't have to have super powers
to be Superman.
You don't have to wear an S on your chest,
to be Superman.
People don't have to know you
to be Superman.
To be Superman,
you just have to fight for what you love.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:55 PM UTC
My kryptonite?
That's a good question. I'm no superhero, no, my limbs too fragile for any crime fighting, any dark lighting of the night, I can't be a Batgirl.
But everyone still has a kryptonite.
I jokingly tell people ice cream, or inappropriate musicals, or turtles, or writing. Writing is a good one. I will do a lot for the sake of the written word.
But that's not what truly gets to me, what breaks me down every time.
Change and love.
Changing love.
It begins as perfection, as bliss on a stick, like a Firecracker Popsicle, delicious until you get to the part you don't like, or, when you get to the end. All you have left is this disgusting flavor in your mouth or the taste of bark, and neither is pleasant.
Everything ends.
That's what kills me. That is my kryptonite. Endings.
In so many facets, this thing kills me. They are my favorite part of every story, but my least favorite part of my life. They are what I spend the most time constructing in a paper, but they are the thing I avoid the most in reality.
I have been taught, in my life, that everyone will leave. There's abandonment sewn into my heart that I'm not sure can ever be erased because, unfortunately for me, its always been true. Almost everyone has left me, and I can't help but assume the rest will leave too, until I am alone.
That's what I love about writing. When you write, there's characters, a new world, a new life. You're never alone, and you're never yourself. When you despise who you are so much, its a dream to try on a different coat and live another life, even if its for only a few minutes.
Another flaw of mine; getting off track. We began on kryptonite, and then I turned it into a tale about the wonders of writing. Typical Grace, distracted about words. Words, words, words, but are they real?
They're real to me, so I guess that's all that matters.
I guess it all circles back to my original kryptonite. Love.
I love too much and get hurt too easily. Its the struggle of my disorder and the folly of my far too large heart, far too large for my little body. Sometimes I wonder if my entire body is one larger, misshapen heart ***** I fully realize the heart is not where emotion comes from, but I'm certainly not all brain. Heart is the only ***** that makes sense. so strong, so vital, but so breakable.
Maybe that's why they call it falling in love, because even Superman can't fly away from it.
Its kryptonite.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Superman ain't super anymore.
He snorted all the kryptonite
and spilled some on the floor.
His cape is in the lost and found
somewhere on the underground
Superman ain't super anymore.
The Man of Steel's heart, colder now than steel
Lois slapped him on the chops
for trying to cop a feel.
Front page of the Daily Planet
Lois wouldn't let him have it
The Man of Steel's heart colder than before.
The problems of the world knock on the door
Superman has fallen down
he's sleeping in the hall.
Crying between fits of snoozing
wishing he could stop the boozing
The problems of the world knock on the door.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
You’ve made me believe that today I can fly, that I can touch the stars as I pass by.
You carry me past galaxies floating on clouds, wrapped in a dream and loving out loud.
The magical carpet that sweeps me away, leaves me breathless, helpless, wanting to stay
on Kryptonite, that mystic existence beyond, where time does not matter and magic abounds.
On top of a mountain on a planet beyond I cling to your safety and hold to your calm.
Can I speak of the beauty that you have shown me? The doors you have opened, the wonders I see?
My lips cannot form the words now in my mind, the heaven you’ve brought, the expressions now hide.
The life that I knew before this was full, yet lonely and bland, bereft of a soul.
I stood all my life alone, apart without you, now you’ve come to my rescue in your red and your blue.
I look at the others who have been there before, look back at their lives to what theirs had bore,
I smile at their journeys, as they’ll never know, for the heavens I’ve reached on my ride do not show.
The best part of the journey is yet to explore, as I take to the skies on my carpet once more.
I stand here with Superman close by my side on the mountain of Kryptonite ready to ride.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
i say all the right things
always thinking ahead
never fully present, just
hoping you won't recognize the mask
hoping you'll fall in love with
silly old me
i wear my skinny jeans as a mask,
ironically to conceal the fact
that i'm both skinny and pale
i drone on about helping people,
when all i really wanna do
is help myself
only i can't
does that make me a bad person?
mostly, i'm pale because i live
in a pitch black cave, forever
haunted by bullies and ancient wounds
it's the wounds that get you early,
that are the hardest to heal
still,
i sometimes venture out of the cave
recklessly careful,
tequila is my kryptonite
upgrades my powers to carefully reckless
only i'm no superman
i'm the clown that paints his wounds with bright colors
that's a lie
i'm more like cinderella with a beard
always on the clock,
waiting for the glass slipper to crack
my **** is pretty cute though
no kidding
it's out there somewhere
looking for that beautifully complicated wound
hoping,
wondering,
is it compatible with mine?
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
This Love Song seemed like a safe place to unpack my ****
But a safe place is where Lyrics go to die.
And this is Not a Song.
and it starts like this. all the time.
II
i fella sleep in a widdle boat and told a seagull that i was having a dream
about talking to seagulls and he was astonished to have the pleasure of meeting a boat
that had the good sense to plug the hole with a poet…. because they never wake up
and they do so with extreme prejudice. that simply screams Resident.
In Fact!
He’d never even seen a boat. So there’s THAT. I offered Seagull “ The Cool -Side of The Pillow. “
So I could sit upright for a moment and jot this down. He was like “ What’s a pillow? “
And I had no idea what it was that brushed against my legs
but It was There. then It was Gone. when i stopped using the metaphor.
I was treading a fathom
of pixie dust and transgender proto-gods, all cuddling in a huddle of metaphysics
as adorable as a radioactive abrupt
stop.
III
Ah yes… someone was cooking bacon… and bacon is sleep’s kryptonite. so the dream was a wrap.
and i had a bird’s nest woven from the silk of my discarded cocoon. codename: Chrysalis.
and my mouth was dry. a stubborn dry that follows a deluge of phantasmagoria
on a Futon that is a God to cat hair. My Futon is Oblique and Omnipotent.
Apparently.
Uber Mecca for Cat Hair. I fell asleep on that.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
I am no Superman
for kryptonite doesn't make me weak
I am no Hulk
for i have no love one to protect
I am no Batman
for I have no scary thoughts inside my head
I am no Achilles
for my feet and ankles are just fine
I am no Hercules
for love doesn't make me weak
I am no hero
for I cry weep and bleed
But I am superhuman
because I capable of being one
but most importantly
I am superhuman
because I am able on being human
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Krypton didn’t fit with anyone,
as it was the unfriendly one,
it never went beyond it’s limits
even if others did loose their limits.
It was from a forlorn world,
nobody cared to say a word,
to this enigma of another world;
no one wanted to share a word.
The nobles were always preoccupied
with their occupied shells,
they never hung out with the occupied,
nor the unoccupied.
Krypton was mistaken for kryptonite.
It wondered every night,
Why they accused it for the assassination?
it didn’t have the power of absorption.
Krypton had very few of it’s kind,
it didn’t know where they were aligned.
He held the hope of being able to be lined,
with the rest of it’s kind.
Poor Krypton, he was on the farthest
arena of the periodic table
it wished if it could turn the table,
so that it can at least act a bit feeble.
Experience taught this novice,
it calculated the calculations,
to traverse the long distance,
fear hindered the transmissions.
Krypton used to think without links
he was one of the stable nobles,
he wasn’t the one that wobbles
and, one of the table’s baubles.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC