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"sidekicks" poems
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
0
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
generation Z
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
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39
I am a nerd Who finds pleasure in books of fiction Of life in fiction Of pain from fiction A fragment of my being I am nothing without a book I am a nerd Who finds pleasure in comic books Whose mind comes alive in their pages Of heroes and their sidekicks Of villains and their lovely vile I am nothing without a book I am a nerd Who finds pleasure in rock as a religion It's transitions and it's leads Metal as a denomination So electric; I come Alive over and again I am nothing without my music I am a nerd Who finds pleasure in Mangas Their Naive heroes and their half clad villains Their pervasions and their strengths Their one-on-one battles and defeats Their awesome storytelling and the twists I am nothing without my Manga I am a nerd Who finds pleasure in video games The difficulty levels and their walkthroughs The vibrations and the boss fights The sleepless nights and the highs The shouts of victory and the barrage of curses I am nothing without my Video games I am a nerd Who finds pleasure in surfing The endless chasm of the world wide Web, of knowledge and terrifying ignorance Of horrors and uplifting humor From one end to the never ending I am nothing without the Internet I am proud to be all of these and more I Am Nerd.
0
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
I am Nerd
Brothers on the beach, Seaside in reach, The two amigos, Blood brother bros, Fraternals and kin, Pals and companions, Sidekicks and playmates, Coastline siblings, Buddies in the shingles, A forever brother band, Golden memories of the strand.
0
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
BROS ON THE BEACH
**IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH.  ALSO, ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, **** DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, ***** ***** VAN ***** **** VAN **** LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER. BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME. ........................................................................BA-ZING....................................................................**
0
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
SPAMMER SMACKDOWN
**IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH.  ALSO, ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, **** DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, ***** ***** VAN ***** **** VAN **** LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER. BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME. ........................................................................BA-ZING....................................................................**
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4
Dinosaur bones, discovered under an overturned rock. Dust-covered and forgotten photos in the attic. The rug pulled out from under us. Highway patrol of a distant creature. I woke up on the wrong side of a very terrible generation. Just when I thought all was good, it wasn’t. Giant ego ruined their reputation. Lost on the beaten path. My faith smells like ***** dishes. Heroes come and go; villains will always be. Dramatization of the fire. It’s up, up and away with a feeling of mutilated pasts. A young woman in a bad man’s dream. Keep a cool head while we enter the jungle. Booby-trapped instincts. This plan was doomed from the start. Let’s go back while we still have two of our appendages. The dog stares at the door, waiting for a Drunk. We both drink, but we’re not arrogant ****** The love I have for a friend of true nature. What’s that in the shadow of the empire? A rebellion. Smoke out the rat. The back door is a fire lane. A simply-put puzzle. Razorblade Cake-Mix. The sound scared the children. Candy from a stranger, candy from a friend, both will likely **** you in the terms of very end. I’ll stand on the first fallen soldier. He doesn’t know me in the meantime. A happy face for all those once told to forget it. My dignity in a department store lost-and-found. Jump for joy, parade for unemployed. A long line of henchmen waiting to be sidekicks. Watch where your education gets you when us dropouts change our pace. You’re better than no one, we’re better than no one, but we faced the facts about this a long time ago. Convincing isn’t working. A dark hole in the bottom of the bird-feeder. No more nourishment for your ill-advised brain.
0
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
Razorblade Cake-Mix
Dinosaur bones, discovered under an overturned rock. Dust-covered and forgotten photos in the attic. The rug pulled out from under us. Highway patrol of a distant creature. I woke up on the wrong side of a very terrible generation. Just when I thought all was good, it wasn’t. Giant ego ruined their reputation. Lost on the beaten path. My faith smells like ***** dishes. Heroes come and go; villains will always be. Dramatization of the fire. It’s up, up and away with a feeling of mutilated pasts. A young woman in a bad man’s dream. Keep a cool head while we enter the jungle. Booby-trapped instincts. This plan was doomed from the start. Let’s go back while we still have two of our appendages. The dog stares at the door, waiting for a Drunk. We both drink, but we’re not arrogant ****** The love I have for a friend of true nature. What’s that in the shadow of the empire? A rebellion. Smoke out the rat. The back door is a fire lane. A simply-put puzzle. Razorblade Cake-Mix. The sound scared the children. Candy from a stranger, candy from a friend, both will likely **** you in the terms of very end. I’ll stand on the first fallen soldier. He doesn’t know me in the meantime. A happy face for all those once told to forget it. My dignity in a department store lost-and-found. Jump for joy, parade for unemployed. A long line of henchmen waiting to be sidekicks. Watch where your education gets you when us dropouts change our pace. You’re better than no one, we’re better than no one, but we faced the facts about this a long time ago. Convincing isn’t working. A dark hole in the bottom of the bird-feeder. No more nourishment for your ill-advised brain.
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1
childhood is full of once in a lifetime experiences. it is full of smiling, living in the moment, not worrying about bills or mortgages, or gas money or grocery shopping. childhood is something we always wanted to grow out of moving away from our barbies and bionicles and trading them in for make up and playboys. even though, sometimes, when heads were turned away, we dug up our favorite plastic friends just to see how they were doing in the darkness. childhood is something we always wanted to leave behind when we were children become big adults with our fancy clothing happy homes and lack of vegetables. and yet we forget that childhood is, simply, full of laughing. and fully grown i now live on the memory of my sandbox sidekicks and their laughter.
0
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
childhood.
you who swayed on stoop-steps and picked bits of teeth from your knuckles, your fantasies, your crouched in blood giggles; monologues. you who wrapped knives around tree hides and in carvings found your way back to days of love & dead wet leaves. you who rattled in hate of sweaty girls but smeared out on the boulevard for girls anyways & made those girls sweat. you who ****** in the snow and wrote out all the names of your far-fallen friends and sisters in just one stream. pacific coast highway. you who soaked back in the trans-fat pools of employment to grip at tips and taste at ***** in this fine phase we call fermentation. you who came hurdling down from hills and hallways with navajo sidekicks, your battle-axes sweetened with sugar powder flecks; for flavor while dying. you who peeled skin from your fingertips in protest of the war on whales, warping you irrevocably down the path of a whisky avocado diet.
0
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
moses
the whole world is circled around them and we are left being their sidekicks.
0
Aug 29, 2023
Aug 29, 2023 at 2:04 PM UTC
Heroes
Guns Slick metallic Fully loaded sidekicks A right held higher than most Opinions vary, more or less For laws and restrictions For availability and freedom A country divided, a hot topic debate And while you ponder your side of the fence Remember that the leaders and lawmakers Prefer prayer as a means to relieve such tragedies There is no plan to change how things are There is no answer from the left There is no answer from the right Accepting complacency and prayers Prayers, which have done nothing, not a thing at all.
0
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
Complacency of Guns
the woven intercept *the crescendo soft ascending, commandeers our riveting, we do not surrender, taken, nonetheless, our deference to an elegant wand wave, combo hopeful and all encompassing, the helplessness both well understood the progression higher, steady on, a rapture going to a defined ending, concluding voyage occluded, for now, but the setting sun rays us a plan, a path, teasingly, soto voce lips moving, “this way” follow on the unsteady water restraining resistance failing, flailing weakly, it is both early morning and late afternoon, the light warms, but each, a timbre different, the pitch and intensity tho one and the same, yet, order confused, still, we are given-in giving in unwillingly absolution unrequested, but awarded anyway, shelter from the storm of safe and warm, children begin first school day, but adults know better, beginnings full of risks unforeseen, the season changes, normalized, but would be refused if we could the waiver offered, the woven intercept read, emotional intelligence so fragile, on and on, sidekicks, lovers, connected by a dotted line highway, the space between permitting anything we want, but contradictories say, wanting everything, impossible but the viable solution singular how do we leave it then? we leave it thus, clarified, separation is a kind of attachment, voidable, when, kissing comes calling, from all around the world, the crescendo ends, we each have read the intercept, it concusses, interpretations differing, yet we don’t care lying through embracing lips* our tune is a mismatched matching, a vision ending and yet anew hatching, this is love, understanding, undefinable, undefeated, a changeling definition, paths possessing multi-endings, loving is the unceasingly, desirable imperfect struggling unique, singular just like everyone else’s 9/4/19 9:07am nml (she'll know)
0
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 2:14 PM UTC
the woven intercept
the woven intercept *the crescendo soft ascending, commandeers our riveting, we do not surrender, taken, nonetheless, our deference to an elegant wand wave, combo hopeful and all encompassing, the helplessness both well understood the progression higher, steady on, a rapture going to a defined ending, concluding voyage occluded, for now, but the setting sun rays us a plan, a path, teasingly, soto voce lips moving, “this way” follow on the unsteady water restraining resistance failing, flailing weakly, it is both early morning and late afternoon, the light warms, but each, a timbre different, the pitch and intensity tho one and the same, yet, order confused, still, we are given-in giving in unwillingly absolution unrequested, but awarded anyway, shelter from the storm of safe and warm, children begin first school day, but adults know better, beginnings full of risks unforeseen, the season changes, normalized, but would be refused if we could the waiver offered, the woven intercept read, emotional intelligence so fragile, on and on, sidekicks, lovers, connected by a dotted line highway, the space between permitting anything we want, but contradictories say, wanting everything, impossible but the viable solution singular how do we leave it then? we leave it thus, clarified, separation is a kind of attachment, voidable, when, kissing comes calling, from all around the world, the crescendo ends, we each have read the intercept, it concusses, interpretations differing, yet we don’t care lying through embracing lips* our tune is a mismatched matching, a vision ending and yet anew hatching, this is love, understanding, undefinable, undefeated, a changeling definition, paths possessing multi-endings, loving is the unceasingly, desirable imperfect struggling unique, singular just like everyone else’s 9/4/19 9:07am nml (she'll know)
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46
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
0
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Forlorn Xanthic Flowers
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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39
Road Runner is my all-time favorite- I like the song by Junior Walker too. He, Road Runner, that is , reminds me of mentally ******** friends of mine who always strut around in a huff. "It"'s a scream. Bugs Bunny and Mel Blanc (Mel, one of Jack Benny's sidekicks) voice for him - Bugs was frothy with my kind of sarcasm. Mickey Mouse I thought of as a kind of a put-on for guys that look like that a little who were always cutting up. I used to get that song Hey Mickie by Toni Basil read piped in loud in my mind, it seemed when it played on the jukebox at that sports bar I used to hang out at. Yosemite Sam is like some of the severely mentally ill guys on my geriatric psych ward who are really abrupt, loud, and whose bark is bigger than their bite. McGruff - I wrote a piece about him - he's not of course from a cartoon - but from my yesteryear, who was under the weather, hence the crime wave. Just like Smokey the Bear, he was a lovable character. I like King of the Hill and Family Guy at night for yukks. On Sat morn back in the day I guess when I had enough time I used to get a bit of a kick out of Fat Albert cartoons and the Jackson Five stuff on lonely, for me, Saturday morning to perk me up for the rest of the day. Back in the old days, they reminded me of figures I knew like them in real life. Sylvester the Cat, Felix the Cat, Hekyll and Jekyll, Daffty Duck, and Might Mouse tickled my little boy sense of humor. In comic Books, I was impressed with the sense of humor of Little LuLu. In the newspaper, Hagar the Barbarian and Beetle Bailey tickled my funny bone a little. That's all, Folks.
0
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
Memories of Cartoons of Yesteryear and Impressions of Primitive Cartoons
Road Runner is my all-time favorite- I like the song by Junior Walker too. He, Road Runner, that is , reminds me of mentally ******** friends of mine who always strut around in a huff. "It"'s a scream. Bugs Bunny and Mel Blanc (Mel, one of Jack Benny's sidekicks) voice for him - Bugs was frothy with my kind of sarcasm. Mickey Mouse I thought of as a kind of a put-on for guys that look like that a little who were always cutting up. I used to get that song Hey Mickie by Toni Basil read piped in loud in my mind, it seemed when it played on the jukebox at that sports bar I used to hang out at. Yosemite Sam is like some of the severely mentally ill guys on my geriatric psych ward who are really abrupt, loud, and whose bark is bigger than their bite. McGruff - I wrote a piece about him - he's not of course from a cartoon - but from my yesteryear, who was under the weather, hence the crime wave. Just like Smokey the Bear, he was a lovable character. I like King of the Hill and Family Guy at night for yukks. On Sat morn back in the day I guess when I had enough time I used to get a bit of a kick out of Fat Albert cartoons and the Jackson Five stuff on lonely, for me, Saturday morning to perk me up for the rest of the day. Back in the old days, they reminded me of figures I knew like them in real life. Sylvester the Cat, Felix the Cat, Hekyll and Jekyll, Daffty Duck, and Might Mouse tickled my little boy sense of humor. In comic Books, I was impressed with the sense of humor of Little LuLu. In the newspaper, Hagar the Barbarian and Beetle Bailey tickled my funny bone a little. That's all, Folks.
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16
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
0
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
Xanthic Flowers
Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes Counted each the millimiles covered Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly. Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides Beated around the alcoves amok Ridges passed the marooned trails Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled Blinked all the roof to rugs Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow Only the body grazed the maps with pointers Though insatiably leveed Kept retention the coursing shadow Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits Life was near but the abstainer failed Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique There appeared Scorched canopies along wilted flora Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death Physique deceived self the core truth Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna Several followed the imperishable conflict trail Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers Raise up , were the victories thristled down? Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow Flip sorties pariance spurts "The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow
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39
Reposted by special request from a very special friend: Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone    that can evoke such heightened fear- And the superpowers I thought I had,    suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed, the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
0
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 5:52 AM UTC
(My Short-lived Career as a Caped Crusader)
Reposted by special request from a very special friend: Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone    that can evoke such heightened fear- And the superpowers I thought I had,    suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed, the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
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73
Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone    that can evoke such heightened fear- And the superpowers I thought I had,    suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed, the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
0
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
Regress III(my short-lived career as a caped crusader)
Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone    that can evoke such heightened fear- And the superpowers I thought I had,    suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed, the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
Continue reading...
72
Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone that can evoke such heightened fear- And the superpowers I thought I had, suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
0
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
Regress III(my short-lived career as a caped crusader)-repost
Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone that can evoke such heightened fear- And the superpowers I thought I had, suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
Continue reading...
72
Reposted by special request from a very special friend: Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone    that can evoke such heights of fear- And the superpowers I thought I had,    suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed, the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
0
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
(My Short-lived Career as a Caped Crusader)
Reposted by special request from a very special friend: Cowboys and sidekicks, were not the only heroes We idolized, and ran to see at those "Saturday picture shows." There was "Superman, and "Batman", and that magic word, "SHAZAM." The "cliff-hanger" serials we hoped would never end. There were all types of villains- even "space invaders"- It was then, that I changed my mind- to become, a "Caped Crusader." As those Saturdays passed by- how I wished that I could fly- And all I needed was a cape to soar throughout the sky. I grabbed a towel, to make a cape, the largest towel that I could find- And I didn't tell anyone what was really on my mind. I went thru the kitchen out the door, into the yard- Mom thought I went out to play, so I caught her off her guard. A couple of the neighbor kids, I now call my "entourage" gathered with excitement as I climbed, to the top of the garage. I stood there with my legs apart- I could feel the pulsing of my heart- hands, braced against my hips- then, the tightening of my lips- I knew that somewhere in the city- Crime was out there brewing- and then I heard my mother's voice- "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!! Well, I tell you folks, there's not a tone    that can evoke such heights of fear- And the superpowers I thought I had,    suddenly disappeared(as did the other kids) There was screaming, and yelling- and amidst the clamor and the din- Neighbors, looking out their windows- saying, "it's just that kid again." I didn't know what she was saying- but I'll never forget that frown, And her words  got a little worse when she had to help me down Banished to the bedroom- on my bed, with the cape that I had wore- Contemplating what dreadful fate my future had in store. I heard the doorknob turning- then dad stepped thru the door He knew I had been crying as my head hung toward the floor. What I thought would happen, didn't- as he sat down on the bed- then with his hand he gently brushed, the top of my head. He explained to me the difference of what was real, and fantasy- That those movies are adventures, not real, just fun to go and see. Here I am, seventy-two and still alive- and sometimes I wonder how I've managed to survive On my mantle are two pictures that make me happy, and make me sad- for those real superheroes- They're my mother, and my dad. copyright: richard riddle, August 05, 2014
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73
America wake up the country is in despair rid yourselves of Obama make it a quick affair vote for good representation vote for the good of the country's well being tick all the squares give the opposing party a whopping share tis the voting season tis a time for reason Washington cannot be in the hands of Obama and his sidekicks they've damaged America so dreadfully be active at polling stations for the betterment of the nation show Mr Obama that he is losing a large proportion of his voter share
0
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
Wake Up
I have asked myself a million times a day How an eighth of my life took so much away... We met when I was twenty-one, Drinking, partying, having fun. Wild hearts, crazy dreams, living for the moment; From that drunk first kiss, my steel-made walls were bent. I never partied much,  but I thanked God I did that night; From silly dates, inside jokes, that spark in our heated fights, Our feelings stayed strong, in tact, when push came to shove And from that sober first time, we soon called it love; Movie nights in our dorms, summers spent missing each other, Sleepovers, phone calls, and the first time you met my mother; Wishing in wells, eleven-eleven, shooting stars; Graduation day, no one thought we'd make it that far. Working doubles, living cheap, We soon took that big old leap; Rented an apartment in the city, internships at hand; Didn't have much but I had all I needed in all the land. Partners in crime, sidekicks in love is how it had always been; They thought we'd marry; who would've known we'd prove them wrong again.... An eighth of my life was all, for sure; Three out of twenty-four years, you were Yet all those years of childhood mean nothing-- We talked of our future children--does that still mean something? Remembering the past, I don't ever want to start anew... Yet here we are, maybe a million miles apart; I can't hold back tears, I still have you close in heart. But perhaps we've moved closer to the truth: An eighth of my life is over for good. And, as much as I'll try, a part of me will always love you-- That eighth of my shattered--mending--heart that will always stay true.
0
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
An Eighth
I have asked myself a million times a day How an eighth of my life took so much away... We met when I was twenty-one, Drinking, partying, having fun. Wild hearts, crazy dreams, living for the moment; From that drunk first kiss, my steel-made walls were bent. I never partied much,  but I thanked God I did that night; From silly dates, inside jokes, that spark in our heated fights, Our feelings stayed strong, in tact, when push came to shove And from that sober first time, we soon called it love; Movie nights in our dorms, summers spent missing each other, Sleepovers, phone calls, and the first time you met my mother; Wishing in wells, eleven-eleven, shooting stars; Graduation day, no one thought we'd make it that far. Working doubles, living cheap, We soon took that big old leap; Rented an apartment in the city, internships at hand; Didn't have much but I had all I needed in all the land. Partners in crime, sidekicks in love is how it had always been; They thought we'd marry; who would've known we'd prove them wrong again.... An eighth of my life was all, for sure; Three out of twenty-four years, you were Yet all those years of childhood mean nothing-- We talked of our future children--does that still mean something? Remembering the past, I don't ever want to start anew... Yet here we are, maybe a million miles apart; I can't hold back tears, I still have you close in heart. But perhaps we've moved closer to the truth: An eighth of my life is over for good. And, as much as I'll try, a part of me will always love you-- That eighth of my shattered--mending--heart that will always stay true.
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31
In those days of "yesteryear"- those days my memory holds so dear- Days that filled my heart with joy- all I wanted to be,was a ...... "Sing'n Cowboy." Our hero was a special man, to reach that level of acclaim So, if you'll please allow me- I'll explain. Our hero, leading a wagon train, three thousand miles from East to West- Surviving the elements and indian raids- his clothes were always freshly washed, and his pants so neatly pressed. Our hero always had a horse- so smart it could pass a college course- Our hero, tied up, and in a terrible spot, that horse, with his teeth, Could untie the Gordian Knot. All successful heros had to have a friend- A trusty, loyal, "sidekick" that stayed with him to the end. All the movie "sidekicks," as often as they could- Had a very simple job, to keep our hero "look'n good," They had to have a funny name- "Fuzzy", "Gabby", and "Ukelele Ike", names known from coast to coast, and up and down the pike. There was one that stood alone- taller than the others Often called "The Best of theWest", none other, than "Lumpy Covers." So, our hero, with his 'ol guitar- just kept on a'ride'n, toward the horizon- as far as the eye could see- Sing'n, and strum'n, all in the Key of G. copyright: richard riddle 07-14-2014
0
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Regress II (Heroes and other Things)
She's the most alive, when it's two. Planning for things, she won't grip. Writing drafts, she won't speak. Paper and ink, her only sidekicks. She's the most alive, when it's two. Laying, grieving, contemplating. A war between her aching heart, a war between her craving brain. She's the most alive, when it's  two. Ecstatic and melancholy, the two extremes. Scribing something she won't think. A smooth verse of her insomnia. n.e
0
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
2:11 am
Themes running through me pulsing beats only I see, can you hear them? Is Zen audible? The vaudeville show starts at five, the theatre's alive with the comics, the sidekicks and the stars of the show. If I go will you come? will you run through the night and flash into the sun with me? will you? Themes running through me, a haunting, Excalibur and Arthur on a roundabout table, in the stable, stands Trigger, Roy is much bigger than me. Voyages, years in discovery cover me, only I see, is Zen audible?
0
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:56 AM UTC
Linkage
People never listen anymore With ears They seek out the one who loves to spread words People never care anymore With ears They thought have understood the story from the narrator Infact they were the sidekicks The insignificant petty villagers While they could have asked the characters themselves Paint the picture themselves They don't care anymore To put the effort in They would rather just hear it from somewhere Then pretend they learnt everything there is to learn about the story Fact is It wasn't your story to care for at the first place It's not caring it's plain boredom and hopes to be the holy judge of 'none of their business' Care is not like that When will the peasants see The truth the truth that lies lies between the teller and facts the teller and players
0
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
Listen without ears
Regress II (Heroes and other Things) In those days of "yesteryear"- those days my memory holds so dear- Days that filled my heart with joy- all I wanted to be,was a ...... "Sing'n Cowboy." Our hero was a special man, to reach that level of acclaim So, if you'll please allow me- I'll explain. Our hero, leading a wagon train, three thousand miles from East to West- Surviving the elements and indian raids- his clothes were always freshly washed, and his pants so neatly pressed. Our hero always had a horse- so smart it could pass a college course- Our hero, tied up, and in a terrible spot, that horse, with his teeth, Could untie the Gordian Knot. All successful heros had to have a friend- A trusty, loyal, "sidekick" that stayed with him to the end. All the movie "sidekicks," as often as they could- Had a very simple job, to keep our hero "look'n good," They had to have a funny name- "Fuzzy", "Gabby", and "Ukelele Ike", names known from coast to coast, and up and down the pike. There was one that stood alone- taller than the others Often called "The Best of theWest", none other, than "Lumpy Covers." So, our hero, with his 'ol guitar- just kept on a'ride'n, toward the horizon- as far as the eye could see- Sing'n, and strum'n, all in the Key of G. copyright: richard riddle 07-14-2014
0
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
Regress II (Heroes and other Things)-repost
Your life is a book and you should live it page by page. You shouldn't skip ahead and read the ending. You are the author and you decide what happens. Don't let anyone else tell you how to write it. Don't put down the pen and end it just because someone else doesn't like it. Fill your story with romance and heartbreak, adventure and mystery. Fill it with evil villains and trusty sidekicks. But you are the hero of your own story. You don't realize what an amazing impact you have on people. You save people's lives everyday. People love you and you don't realize it. The story could end one day and everyone would be devastated. The character that changed their lives would be gone, forever. Don't let that hero die. Never put down the pen no matter what happens, because believe it or not people love you and your story and they don't want to see either come to an end.
0
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
Life is the Best Book