He woke up
next to the empty spot
where Wonder Woman had been.
He puked in the toilet
slammed down a forty-ounce Miller High Life
and started putting the suit on.
boots
the gray and black tights
the gloves
the yellow utility belt
and the cape.
It was leather.
He put the cowl
under his arm and left his apartment.
It was a late start
nearly noon
by the time
the bus got him to
Mann's Chinese Theater.
He saw a lot of his
friends and colleges
as the bus went down to his stop.
It was a regular day
all the characters were
in their usual little groups.
Spider-Man & Captain America
two Mormon boys that had been
excommunicated from the church
they got caught **** *******
each other
now they were stuck in Hollywood
like everyone else.
The X-Men
or H-Men as most people called them
were a group of junkies.
One of them had a cousin at Fox
and they got four replica X-Men costumes.
So that's how they scored
their junk everyday
garnered pretty good tips from the tourists.
Cyclops, Jean-Grey, Storm, and Wolverine.
It was a good grift. **** good idea.
Then you had the impersonators
plastic surgery freaks
obsessed with Michael Jackson
creepy bald men dressed as Dr. Evil
and there was always
a lazy fat guy
that would do Elvis.
Not know any of the songs
and saying the catch phrases all wrong,
"Well, thank you Ma'am....thank you so much."
Those guys never lasted too long.
The cutesy cartoon characters
were almost always
pedophiles or ******* ladies.
The horror people were hands down
the most bat-**** insane of the lot.
They got into the most fights
they terrorized the kids
and they talked a lot of ****.
Would bate guys into fights.
Michael Myers would always start ****
with guys that had beautiful women with them.
It was ****** up.
The LAPD took away Freddy Kruger last month
for beating up a guy
right in front of his kids.
There was talk from the cops
about shutting down their whole thing down.
Making it illegal to dress up in costumes
and get tips.
'Panhandling' as the office had said.
But
Batman hung out with
Superman & Wonder Woman
while doing his thing.
The night before
Wonder Woman and him
had been drinking, smoking, and
they ****** once
before she asked him
what she needed to.
"We got two new guys starting tomorrow."
"What?"
"Yeah. They came up to me on the street today,
wanted to know if they could hang with us."
"Wha? What? Well...do they have costumes?"
"Yeah." She said, exhaling smoke, wrapped in the sheet on the bed.
"These guys got a Green Lantern and a Robin costume. Really good quality,
they showed me pictures. Hey, you finally got a Robin now! Isn't that great?"
"****...I don't know Diana...I was kinda liking our little *******.
"Oh come on, Bruce. It'll be good." She said, wrapping her arms around him
as he sat on the edge of the book, looking out the window.
"We can finally get the big, group tips. Like what the H-Men got going."
"Alright. That's fine."
And the next day
there they were,
Green Lantern & Robin.
Wonderful costumes, like she said
their hair color and overall appearance
spot on.
"Hey there!"
"Hello. Robin. Green Lantern."
Their gloved hands all shook.
They got acquainted and he couldnt help but like them.
Nice guys, musicians, Rockabilly guys, from Venice.
They went out into
the crowd of people
Superman's voice booming over the crowd
telling everyone that they're safe from
evil and wrong doers, blah, blah, blah,
the usual ******* that Superman always said.
Batman yelled to Robin over the enclosing crowd.
They were now fully entrenched by people
fat & sweaty
Batman's panic attack took over.
"COME ON!" He shouted over the rising crowd noise.
The dynamic duo
shoved & pushed
parting the sea of fat tourists
and breaking out onto the sidewalk.
"What's up, Batman?" Robin asked
looking up to him.
The size difference was just like in the comics
Robin was a little guy.
"I just needed to get outta there. Let's go take a lap
down Hollywood Boulevard...see what kinda cash we can grab."
"Okay, Batman."
They walked
up and down
the walk of fame
posing for a few pictures
making some kids day
with wide-eyed excitement
that will be with them forever.
They made forty bucks too.
"Alright, that's good for now. Let's grab a beer, Robin."
It was a small dive
on Hollywood Boulevard
they were two beers in
and Robin was learning a lot
about how Hollywood really was.
Some real talk from Batman to Robin.
"Yup. I moved out here in 1997. I saw that movie 'Swingers' and I thought...
I could do that, that could be my life, I want that."
"And what happened Bats?"
"Well...I came out here, went to film school, did everything I was told, and...
I still got ******." He said, taking a long pull from the bottle.
"Well what happened exactly?"
Robin's green glove, gripping the brown bottle
tilting it back, bubbles rising
"Well...ya see...when I was in film school, the instructors all told us...you either do your internship here in Hollywood or go to New York. Anywhere else and you won't be able to make it. That's what they said."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. So I did my internship here in Hollywood and it was for nothing. The whole two years that I was at Faramount, I was never allowed to even touch any film equipment. Well, just to dust it off and clean it. But they didn't even try to teach me anything there. I just did food runs at lunch, got them their Starbucks in the morning, and took out the trash. Swept the parking lot, cleaned the toilets, I was a ******* janitor at that place. And you know what happened next?"
"Huh?"
"One day they just fired me. Just like that. After two years of being their ***** boy. So now I have $50,000 in student loans that I can't pay back, and a degree that got me nowhere."
"****." Robin said, finishing his beer.
"Yeah. So what do you do?"
"I'm in school for audio engineering."
"Ah...the music business eh?"
"Yeah, Batman."
"Hmm."
Batman grew silent then, just finishing his beer, and staring into the mirrored wall.
He wanted to say,
"I have 117 scripts sitting in a stack next to my t.v. That's eight screenplays a year. Robin, I've been at this for fourteen years and it doesn't get any better. I never stop trying and I keep at it, year after year. But I'm done. Get out while you
still can Robin. This city will eat you, **** you, **** you. If you still have a home, I suggest you go back to it."
Batman sat there, his beer finished, still staring straight ahead.
Robin pulled out a ten dollar bill, smiling, calling for the bartender
with that sparkle in his eye
of youth and hope.
He didn't want to say all that ****
crush that gleam in Robin's eye
like he once had.
Those were the best days
the great days
the glory days
to be young, handsome, poor, and hopeful
that you could make it
that it could happen.
So Batman didn't say another word about it.
Nope.
There were things
Robin would have to learn all on his own.

Brooke hit it off with Edric from the moment they met.

The dangerously ****, tattooed ex-SEAL and always a poet, Detective for the LAPD, remains as one of the best friends she’s ever had, the main star in her wildest fantasies.
When they met he did not see her that way. And she would have died of embarrassment if he found out she was still a ******. And he was about to stake his claim, struggling to keep his attraction to the beautiful, blond dancer a secret.
He was not good enough for her; that is what he thought. On a day when an attacker targeted Brooke, Edric’s protective instincts went into overdrive.
With the attraction between them burning like a torch flame, he would do whatever it took to protect her and tell her they were meant to be together.  
One evening, deciding to express her love for her, Edric waited outside the door, keeping watch over the woman he loved secretly. Then he saw her through the curtain, dressed in her black fur coat.
Not realizing that she was being watched, yet fantasizing about the man of her dreams, Brooke lowered her fur coat standing in front of her mirror.
Her soft ******* protruding out from her black lace bra, in her mind waiting for Edric’s hands to touch her love her, want her like she wanted him... As the coat slipped down her black lace skimpy ******* seemed so inviting. Her dreams of him were getting so vivid. She would imagine him standing over her, kneeling, as he slipped his hand under the cover, exploring her body, wanting her, making her desire so real. Seeing Brooke in her lingerie, he was awestruck by her beauty and wondered what to do next.
Hesitatingly, he moved towards the door and to his shock saw a shadow, moving slowly, stealthily, trying to pry the windows. Failing to open the window, he moved towards the door. He pulled out a bunch of keys trying out one by one. Edric’s first response was to call for backup. He called leading detective Donovan Mallow his partner. Then the shadow opened Brooke’s door and started creeping in, Edric wasting no time, Edric charged to stop him. Suddenly he heard a shot that rang out into the night. There was Brooke standing in her black lace bra and *******, holding a gun and the intruder lay dead on the floor.

“Brooke drop the gun, please Brooke drop the gun.” Brooke was shaking… “Brooke, sweetheart, drop the gun. “She looked at Edric and let the gun fall to the floor softly.  On the verge of tears, petrified out of her wits since she had never used a gun before,  and to **** a man, she shook violently. Edric walked over to her and picks her and covered her half naked body with his coat.
When Detective Donovan showed up, Edric held her close while the former checked  the body and called for the paramedics and further back up. When the police came, CIS took finger prints, investigating the crime scene.
Edric found Brooke some clothes and dressed her, escorting her to the precinct for recording of her statement. She was questioned and released.
With Edric’s story and Detective Donovan backing her up, she was released. Not wanting to disturb the crime scene, Edric escorted her to his home and put her in bed. Brooke, I need to tell you something, is what he said.
“I am listening”…Brooke was shivering after having gone through the trauma, yet attentive listening to the man that she had secretly admired. “I want you to know, I love you”.  “You love me? I love you too. I always have.” Brooke looked at Edric with an adulation emanating from her very soul.
As an instinctive response, shivering, she let her head lean on his shoulder. “Edric then please make love to me. I have yearned for you so long”.
As the sun slipped from its perch in the sky slowly, drawing well into the darkness, the shores where the waves would roll and sigh, Edric slowly undressed Brooke, one piece at a time. As he took off her blouse admiring her beautiful soft protruding ******* with each moment her ******* getting hard. Taking  off her pants and there were the black lace ******* he had seen from the window. Her firm and tight stomach and legs, she looked so delectably **** and beautiful. She was lying with a look of anticipation on her face. He enveloped her with his arms and kissed her softly, passionately. He didn’t want to scare her.
“Edric, I have to tell you.” Brooke whispered in his ear. “Later Brooke, you can tell me later.” He was so aroused and was getting so hard. “No, Edric now.. I have to tell you now.” Edric stopped and looked at her, “What is it darling?”
“Edric I am a ******. You are my first man. I have never been with another man.” Edric sat there and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew then that he had to be gentle. A wrong step and he would scare Brooke. He held her hand and kissed it.
"I kind of suspected but am surprised. You always had a naïve gentleness and girlishness about you. You always seemed so vulnerable that I always wanted to protect. You always had affected me in a way that I couldn't explain; no other woman has ever done that to me.”

Saying that he helped her dress and holding her hand led her towards the ****** beach outside his cottage. Wrapping her in his arms, they watched the beautiful glow of the stars, eyes aglow with passion of locked hands. Edric spoke his favorite lyrics, into her mouth as he started kissing her.
What a poet was he!! Impatience getting the better of her, “Edric, please make love to me… Oh! how I want you.”
His kisses were soft but passionate; they started at her lips to the base of her neck sliding down to her *******. When they got to her stomach her breath trembled, yearning for more.
Electric shocks ran down her spine. She almost screamed. The winds gently swirled, dancing to their rhythm of their passion. A girl, morphed that sweet evening, as Edric make sweet passionate love to her and made her into a blossoming woman.
Guess, there is nothing in the world that matched the feeling of eclectic emotions that were born that night. When a tired sun finally arose as a grim reminder of the end of an ethereal night, it sighed endlessly, spreading a gentle caress across Brooke’s cheek, pledging that she was bound to Eric for eternity.

Debbie Brooks 2014 -

I love the way the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences let Will Smith sit there, for 40 minutes, preening in the front row, in plain sight, after he assaulted a black man at the Oscars.

I know what you're thinking - wait, isn’t Will Smith black? Well, obviously NOT. In an America where black men are routinely murdered for selling cigarettes or having a broken taillight, Mr. Smith got to commit his crime in front of millions of people. Then sit around like a three-piece suited sultan for over a ½ hour to receive an Oscar and a (reflexive?) standing ovation.

Will, in an effort to make his violence palatable said, in his tearful acceptance speech, that he was protecting his wife. Chris Rock made a joke about her hairdo. Was she actually in some kind of unseen danger? Perhaps this is some kind of new, Muslim “honor” slapping?

The very function of comedian hosts and presenters at the Oscars is to take-the-**** out of these overpaid actor-celebrities. If you multi-millionaires can’t take a joke, stay home or wear a **** wig.

I’m curious, we know Jada and Will have an “open” marriage - because they have said as much. Does that mean, in “Smith” logic, Chris could have *** with Jada but not comment on her looks?

How far does Will’s privilege extend - could he have *****-slapped Betty White (she was pretty salty sometimes) - for instance? I mean, Chris Rock is half Will Smith’s size. Do you think he would have launched up at Dwayne Johnson, Idris Elba or Jason Momoa? I doubt it, even if Will did get to pretend, he was Mohamid Ali for a while.

Chris Rock is a trooper, he took the hit and carried on like a professional. He’s going to be ok. Chris is in the middle of a national comedy tour, and it completely sold out the night of the assault. Even with ticket prices jumping from $49 to $340 per seat. I can’t wait to hear his new bit. I’m fairly sure every comedian in the world will now make a point of making vicious fun of Will - who’s made himself a punchline.

Will Smith will now start an apology tour. “It was a momentary lapse,” he’ll say - like every guy who ever slapped his wife or punched-down on someone weaker than themselves. From now on, whenever Jada’s invited anywhere, she’ll be asked if her husband is coming too and if he can be counted on to behave himself.

Chris Rock generously declined to press charges, but the LAPD doesn't need him to charge Will with assault. I know he’d only get a slap on the wrist, but someone should hold him accountable.

I was a Will Smith fan once.

1.
I flew into LA
At sunrise:
Clipped wings,
Pockets of nickels.

2.
I could have died
With my heart exposed
And lips silent
(It would have been easier).

3.
My repressed homosexual tendencies
Got me into your veins.
I can’t taste coffee any more,
Even if I drink it off your smile.

4.
Yes, my mind did go there.
My stomach knots when
I realize I want your hands
Hovering in the darkness.

5.
He doesn’t watch me at night
When your name is fleeting
And my heart throbs too fast.
This could have been ours.

6.
I don’t think women
Look as good in blue, with
LAPD adorning their heaving *******.
The gunshot still rings in my eyes.

7.
I wish it were zombies.
Let’s start over from here,
And you can wade my shallow puddle
To begin our end over again.

8.
They’re like us, but older
And younger, and blonder, and
More human than I could ever
Pretend to be.

9.
Goodnight.
It is empty in the abyss
That is the absence of
Your smile.

Boom boom
Ratatat
Organized thugs
Navy blue hats

Singing songs
About murdering kids
LAPD
Pleading the 5th

Boom boom
Ratatat
Organized thugs
Carrying bats

Jumped the turnstile
That fare ain't free
That's 10 from behind
In the SFC

Boom boom
Ratatat
Organized thugs
Pointing gats

New Years passed
Face down on the ground
Fruitvale Station
A pop the final sound

One day I woke up in the middle of a train station that belonged to a city I never even been to. And when I pulled apart the curtains that covered the windows to my soul. I saw this girl standing over me. She had on my mothers smile l,she had my sisters eyes,she was wearing this perfume called 1620 and the scent reminded me of a slave ship. She had middle passage stamped to her back, a noose around her neck and a shackle still dangling from her left wrist. I grabbed her by the arm whispered in her ear, I said "Sweetheart no one escapes history." See our ancestors they had wings like butterflies and we are tornados on the other side of the planet disconnected to our story and this girl she wears the generation Gap like she bought right next to Banana Republic. I found this poem in the basement of her self esteem, it was mounted to the wall right next to her ethnic background as if they were both hunted before. She wears these coats made with the skin of black men that have found her attractive, she shoots them down like LAPD,she's the KKK's stunt devil. A menstrual show turned upside down, with a white face, lip gloss, and UGG boots. She's a blonde hair,blue eyed, black girl praying for lighter skin. She tells me that she is so ******* tired of being ugly. And I know, I knew that she was drunk on the Molotov cocktails that the media has thrown through her eyelids. Deep down inside really, I wanted to blame it on the alcohol but when she said those words I felt like she stabbed me in the chest with a sharp shank made out of her broken heart. I felt like she sliced my throat with the jagged edges of her shattered dreams, I was hurt and it took everything in my power to try to hold back the tears but they were stronger than me. My eyes,felt like 300 Spartan soldiers trying to hold back the Persian army. That day, yo that day I cried for her. I cried so hard, that my eyes bled three frozen lakes and gave birth to the coldest winter ever. Despite my mixed emotions, despite our differences I still spread my branches as far apart as I possibly could and offered to keep her warm but she said.......she looked at me an said.....I would much rather die.

Tiny Tim with droopy eye went out
with corpse-woman (she’d heard
he’d died)

Had a cigarette between two finger’d
bones called life and when living
ladies heard he’d died the world
began its wailing from the other side.

LAPD roped off the scene but the
ribbons were too low for ghosts and
all his demons.  Detective Mister
found his ****** revolver and no cell
block too secured assured for dead
men so police officer said, “Tiny Tim
was too beautiful but he died today;
the judge had verdict match the
coroner;  misadventure in love case
closed casket so move along move
along my fiends.

:: 03212016 ::
Copyright © Ernest Robles

[Part 1 - Undone]
I got in the shower with my headphones on, listened to my favorite singer sing about getting naked and I haven’t related to a song as much since the time she sang about being born to be the other woman, cause I was born to be the other man and I made my peace with that.
Maybe we’ll meet in another life.
Maybe then I’d be happy by his side.
Anyway, I’m gone now.
I had no reason to stay.
Call me up if you want me to do something for you
like run an errand
or ****.
Ima set this as my voicemail, so all the men who things haven’t worked out with will hear it.
I could still give you something.
I’m not over you as much as I wish I was.

[Part 2 - Bitchslap]
My baby is the biggest sadist under the moon
You create mayhem but I can’t stop loving you
You make me sad like the ******* sky’s blue
You inflict pain and sweetness and I can’t break loose
It’s just circles, it’s just dead ends for you.
I could be a god, but still not good enough for you.
My baby is the biggest sadist under the moon
You paint me blue but I can’t stop liking you
I’m suffocating when we’re in the same room
You don’t give a ****, but I’m so obsessed with you.
I need a distraction
I need to take action
He’s sweet, but I’m auto-destructive with my fantasies.
I’m so not over any of them,
but I’m choosing to forget that I can’t have them.
I could still give them something.
Am I the only one who feels this way?
Do they ever think of me?

[Part 3 - Candy Crush]
Takes me to the Hamptons, I’m the apple of his eye.
Sings Dylan up real close, I’m his groupie for life.
Sweet like coca cola, I get high off him at night.
Chews me up and spits me up like I’m cherry bubble gum.
Takes me to festivals, I’m his vintage money.
Drives me to the vistas, I’m his bitter honey.
Without him I’m nothing, I’m the light of his life.
I’m his little baby, every day and night.
Sweet like sugar baby,
Only ride or die.
Nothing to lose baby,
Like Bonnie and Clyde.
I got nothing to lose now,
I’m his baby for life.
I learned to flirt from TV,
Decipher me from WikiHow.

[Part 4 - Errands]
Pick me up from school, we can run some errands.
Drive me to your place, choose the fastest highway.
Handle me with care, I go ahead like a Ferrari.
I speedrun relationships, ***** I’m motopapi.
Let me run my hands up your thighs, hang on your shoulders.
Let me caress your hip bones, gently collide our foreheads.
I can sleep on his hips, I ain’t going anywhere.
Follow me on socials and then to the shower.
Once you go bad, there’s no going back.
There’s no going back.
He can play some hip hop, so his neighbors won’t hear.
Crash me into the ocean, LAPD in the rear.
Once you go brave, you won’t ever give a ****.
You won’t ever give a ****.
I can undress him slowly, I can drive him like a Lambo.
Run my hands upwards like I’m doing a glissando.
Once you go to town, you’re a local there.
You’re a local there.
My consciousness is calling, Ima call you back in two weeks.
My senses are calling, Ima call you back in never.
“What the hell are you doing?” they keep asking me.
Running errands, that’s what I am doing.
I never had a boyfriend, but I’ve had fun in spite of that, that’s the least I could have so why’re they surprised I did?
Now I want the bare minimum and I wanna get it daily like I’m buying groceries, meet somebody new, write his number down on a Walmart receipt, call him up and get my hopes up, get hooked up and give him up.
I’ll see him in another life.
I might love him in two.
He might love me back in ten.
You’re hella cute, hella cute when you stutter, I like your face but you’re also hella outta reach, nowhere close to my dominion.
Hell, at least run an errand with me, it’s the bare minimum.
Pick me up from the gardens, we can waste our time.
Drive me to the riverbed just to break my heart.
Don’t ask me for money, hit me up to chat.
I got nothing to do, nobody here to love.
So it’s no wonder why I want all the things above.
Treat me like a ghost,
I’m gone as we’re speaking.
At least give me a call,
I’m not gone entirely.
I don’t regret what I do, even if it winds up fruitless.
It’s the minimum of it, both its grandeur and crudeness.
It’s a crazy thing.
You and I both know this won’t work, but it’s the best we’ve ever had.
It’s the best we’ve ever had.
The hardest thing is knowing when to give up and I made my peace with that.
I made my peace with that.
Run errands with me, take me to your place, give me what others have.
Get naked in the shower.
Get drunk on hope.
Give up, repeat, crash into the ocean.
Let’s do something together.
Just to stop feeling lonely.
Get high on the minimum of what we’ve never had.
Even if it’s for the night.
Drive me to your house.
Don’t blame me for being this way.
I gave up on the good life long ago and I made my peace with that.

Image is everything according to spoken voices.
But some must admit and adjust their image isn't held out.
Especially those in uniforms of law.

Black no one but yourself?
And quick crying Blue Lives Matters because some wear grey.

Bull Connor, boys of Alabama destroy apart of your respect.
Attacking innocent people for any and every reason imaginable.

Rodney King attack, then LAPD like their east coast counterpart NYPD image is held high.
Except in police officers' eyes.

Then George Floyd's death brought about by a veteran clown.
Who?
Now have a target on his back.
And they crying for respect.

Think about the race you constantly seem to attack.
In all three mentions above they were black.

Respect is earned and not gain because you wear a gun and a uniform.

Image is simply a tool to represent yourself accordingly.
Even if you the police.