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.

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.

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.

It may not be too surprising, maybe it is
But the question I field the most in high school
Has nothing to do with calculus, nothing to do with biology
Hell, it doesn’t even have anything to do with colleges
People most want to know if I’m Chinese, Japanese, or Korean

Sometimes, when they think they’re funny
They like to pull their skin back to thin their eyes into slits
And their friends erupt into prepubescent sidekick laughter
And I’d laugh right along
Not because I was a prepubescent sidekick
But because those jokes didn’t bother me
That much

The first person to ask me that was a black kid who maybe stood 6 foot
As a freshman
Wearing his new LeBron jersey with the Miami Heat logo plastered in front
Complete with Air Jordan’s and official NBA socks
He asked me politely with his head bowed
Maybe a bit too low
I think I saw him snicker, but I was too naïve to be sure

Well honestly bro, I know which one I am
But I can’t tell you the difference between the Chinese, the Japanese, or the Koreans
Or in some of your cases, the Chinks, the Japos, and the *****
Cause’ even if I could, it wouldn’t matter
I’ve seen some of you ignorant ******* taste Sushi
and widely proclaim it as the weirdest Chinese **** you have ever tasted
Sushi comes from the Land of The Rising Sun, fyi
And one would think that you Americans would know more about the country
You guys basically nuked 65 years ago

But let me tell you about being Asian
Let me tell you about the ridiculous Asian accents done by ignorant classmates and even friends
Let me tell you about teaching simple words to the curious
Only to discover they’re really just interested in learning foreign swear words
C’mon kids, there’s Google translate for that garbage

Let me express the frustrations and embarrassment when you’re young
and only good at counting thus far
Yet you already speak the English language better than your parents
I used to always insist on leaning over my mother’s lap
So I could holler into the speaker at McDonald’s drive-thru

You guys want to rip me on my own driving too
Well I got styles yo, just like my hair
I got my Tokyo Drift, my Jeremy Lin, my Mario Kart
Or my turn signal on for the last five miles
And once you step into that high school everyone,
and I mean everyone, thinks you’re good at math and
expects you to give out answers in bulk like fortune cookies
You all think that I know the clever tricks
that Asians use for their grade-point-averages
Well, I have a C in AP calc
They say A stands for Asian
Well, does my C stand for, Caucasian?

Did ya’ll know that every year, my Swim team would travel upstate to Pekin High for a meet
And until 1980, they were known as the Chinks
And every time their football team scored a TD, a white kid dressed in Asian gear
Would bang on a gong while some players and fans would bow solemnly?

And when my boy Jeremy was dubbed by your boy LeBron
You guys all laughed and jeered when ESPN was headlined the next day with the phrase
“***** In The Armor”

For a while, I felt a shame for being Asian
I would express my private desires to be White or Black if I had the choice
Drawing the patient lectures from my parents that were admittedly, in poorly spoken English

Even now these so-called friends would still rib me about my ethnicity
This is where colleges come in kids
And yes, I got into a great school
But it is not the purpose of my life to get good grades, good colleges, or
satisfaction from my dad
I only strive to do what you all strive to do
and that makes me as American as you all
So it would be fitting for me to address the jury the way I am about to
Therefore to all you calc cheaters and arrogant good drivers,
to all of the fake friends and prepubescent sidekicks
*******

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..............................................­......................

Everyone assumes
The sidekicks are always fine
‘Cause they’re too busy helping
When the hero cries
And the hero doesn’t have to worry
About getting hurt and dying
‘Cause you never **** off a hero
But the sidekick’s another story.
It hurts sometimes
For your story to be ignored
‘Cause we all got a story
But we are all told
That some are more important
Some mean more
But they’re wrong
Sidekicks have stories too
But no one cares about them
Until one of them is you.

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. *****-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.

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.

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.

the whole world is circled around them
and we are left being their sidekicks.

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.

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

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)

October 11, 2013 -*
Chloe's POV
____________

“Wonderland looks like a ******* acid trip.” I mentioned, while Hayden silently dragged me along pressing his fingers so roughly into the skin of my arm that I could feel my pulse surge through my arm. “Come on, don't tell me you don't think the same.”

“Where is Alice?”

I pointed towards the cage, containing one of the seven princesses. “There.”

Hayden took off his hood, and stepped up to the podium to stare at Queen *****. Oops, I meant the Queen of Hearts. Her square face and extremely large lips coated in a ruby waxy color along with the bad contouring made her look like a drunk housewife who hates her kids. “Who are you? How dare you interfere with my court!”

“What if I find you the real culprit? Will you let Alice go?”

“That's hogwash. Find me proof, then we'll talk.” The Queen of Hearts yelled in her unnecessarily loud and booming voice, startling even Hayden's hardass personality.

The solitaire card guards stood at bay, wielding their weapons at their sides. One of the guards locked the gate, and threw the key up towards the queen who spun the key ring around her finger. Hayden stepped back, gripping my arm forcefully again. “Dude, can't you loosen up?”

Hayden huffed. “Shut the **** up. If you don't follow my orders –”

“You'll do what? **** me? I thought you needed my soul to enter the Final Keyhole.”

Hayden tensed up the muscles in his hands around my arm, literally dragging me along with him. The moment we entered the forest, he loosened his grip on me slightly as he walked forward mumbling something about wanting to have me on a leash.

“Yeah, because I'm literally a *****. Get it?”

Hayden threw me up against the wall, pressing his balled up fist beside my face. His nose was nearly touching mine as he gave me a humorless look. I could basically see the evil in his eyes. “You're not ******* funny. After we open up the Final Keyhole, I'll finally be able to ******* get rid of you. All you are to me is ******* trash. Do you understand that?”

I spit a loogie in his face. “Get off of me, *******.”

Before I could react, he took out his keyblade and slashed up my left arm drawing a lot of blood. With gritted teeth, I said, “You – You will never ******* open up the Final Keyhole. Not without me.”

My body started losing consciousness almost immediately, and I felt my body drop down onto the forest floor. If looks could ****, I would have been dead the moment Organization XIII captured me three weeks ago. Finally, the darkness swallowed me and I welcomed it's homely embrace.

“There's a legend behind those paopu fruit: If two people share one, their destinies become intertwined. They'll remain a part of each other's lives no matter what. I've always wanted to try it."  Max mentioned, putting her bare feet into the water.

“You know legends are basically myths passed down over generations?”

She looked over towards me with this soft gaze in her face, and I felt the air ****** out of me as the sun hit her azure blue eyes the right way. “I know it sounds stupid, but I want to do it sometime.”

“Grab me the axe out the shed, Max. We're gonna chop down one of these trees.”

“Are you kidding me?” Max had this worried look on her face, and I rolled my eyes.

“Yes. Come on, slowpoke. We're losing daylight here.”

A few minutes passed as I soaked my feet in the salt water, and I laid down in the sand whenever I was met with Max who held the axe above me. I flinched, and sat up quickly. “You scared me.”

“Give me the axe.” She handed it to me, and we raced each other to the top of the lighthouse. Of course, Max was faster since I was lugging around this dense axe. When we made it to the tree, I started swinging the axe into the tree. I got tired super quickly, since we basically raced each other. “This activity takes so much energy out of me. You and I shouldn't have raced up here.”

“It was fun. Let me try.” Max grabbed the axe from me, and swung with slightly more force than I did. After several of Max's swings, we watched the tree start leaning towards the water.

“You're doing it, Max!”

“Max the Axe Queen!” I shook my head grinning as the tree finally groaned, spintered, and collapsed off the top of the hill of the lighthouse crashing into the waters below. “Oh no...”

“I'll get it.” I nodded. “I'm a good swimmer.”

As I swam over towards the crash site, I noticed that the tree has gotten caught on the gap between one of the rocks so the leaves of the tree and some of the fruits were still showing. I was surprised that the stems of the paopu fruits stayed on. “I found the *****!”

“Chloe!”*

Immediately, I recall that Max never called for me. I swam back to shore, right? Her shrill voice rang in the air louder. Then it became deafeningly loud. That's when I felt fabric wrapped around my arm. My finger twitched as I started to realize that Max was screaming my name. “– And you don't understand anything. You're just a weak kid with a keyblade.”

“I may be weak, but my heart is strong.”

“Then show me that you're strong, because all I see is a hopeless girl saturated with optimism. Like you can do anything with those doormats you call your sidekicks.” I struggled to open my eyes, eventually peeking out. This was the first time I was looking at Max Caulfield in five years, and she looked ******* furious as she held the keyblade.

“Don't you dare talk about my friends like that!”

“Try and ******* stop me, you twig.”

Her eyes immediately flickered towards me, and I did the shushing motion with my lips when I weakly pointed up towards Hayden. She looked back at Hayden, positioning herself. With all of the strength in my body, I kicked Hayden in the back of his knees making him collapse over me. “What the hell?”

Quickly, I crawled out when he grabbed at my leg. “Get back here, *****!”

Max sprinted towards Hayden, her keyblade drawn and positioned to attack Hayden when he blocked Max with his own. This gave me enough time to crawl out of his grip. Two keyblades, something I've never seen before, came forth from Hayden's hands as I ran towards Max's side, throwing out my hand to manifest my sword. My heart was beating against my chest as I pressed my back up against Max's. “Good to see you again, Max.”

“Same here. Distract him, I'm going to heal you.”

Then it was my turn to fight Hayden, who looked furious. Max healed my wound in the background as I ran from Hayden. With Hayden equipped with two swords and knowing he is dexterous with both his left and right hand, defense was very difficult on my part. Eventually, he kept on throwing slashes over at me and that's all I could do. “Come on, Max. I'm basically blocking here.”

While Hayden was occupied by me, he noticed Max was building up a fire attack which he quickly darted towards the left as the flames hit a tree in the forest. The tree slowly started building up a fire as Max and I started clashing swords with Hayden. At one point, he swiped Max towards the ground and pinned me up against one of the burning trees. “You better back the ******* right now.”

“You're ******* scared, aren't you?” I yelled at Hayden's face, who pressed the keyblade against my neck. Everything started feeling uncomfortably hot, especially the sweat that ran down my face. My eyes glanced over towards Max, who quickly ran off towards the fruit upstairs.

“Where did that ***** Max go?”

Hayden spotted Max eating the fruit high in the tree, and his face went pale. Max slowly started growing in size, and that delay was enough time for me to run from Hayden. Once Max was at full size, she grabbed Hayden like a ******* teddy graham. “Leave my friends alone.”

She crushed him in her fingers, and his body shattered into billions of pieces. After checking that he was executed properly, she wiped her fingers on her shirt. “Woah, Max. That was ******* awesome.”

“Let me get down on your level first.” Max joked, grabbing the fruit out of the tree. Once Max shrank back to normal size, the blonde haired girl with wings had came over to heal my arm injuries with her keyblade. As Max approached me, I felt my heart jolt once I saw how big the smile was on her face.

****, she's ******* attractive now.

“Cards! Find whoever made this mess, and exterminate them. Off with their heads!” The familiar booming voice of Queen ***** interrupted my thoughts, and for once, I was thankful to hear such a nasally and unattractive voice.

"Oh ****!" Max whisper-screamed, grabbing my hand.

We ran towards the tea party set up yet abandoned by Alice and her friends, and hid under the table as we heard the Queen's voice, followed by the clapping footsteps of the Solitaire Cards.

“So are you going to introduce me to your friends?” I whispered to Max who was at my side, nudged her in her arm.

“Maybe later, when we're not stuck under a ******* table.” She gently grabbed my arm, and I noticed her touch greatly contrasted with Hayden's rough one. I excused that thought as soon as it ran through my head, silencing our breathing as the cards marched through the abandoned tea party. It must have been fifteen minutes of cards patrolling the area making sure it was clear before we crawled out.

I wiped the grass off my pants when Max threw her arms around me in the process. “Max, you're a ninja. That was some quick thinking. You're still smart.”

“I missed you.” Max buried her nose into my collar bones, curling her arms around me and pressing me close to her. I could feel her heart beating rapidly from the leftover adrenaline from the fight. Almost immediately, I returned the favor throwing my arms around her neck. Something about her smelled sweet, and I allowed myself a moment of peace and serenity with my best friend.

“I missed you too, Max.” Max tightened her grip on my shirt as I tried pulling back. “What?”

“Chloe, I've been looking for you for years now. I thought you were dead.” Max was crying, but from the way she was smiling, I could tell that it was tears of joy. Something in me blossomed as I pulled her into my chest again. “It's just...I'm so glad to see you.”

“Yeah. Same here.” Eventually, she let go, and I turned towards Max's friends. “Sorry for that. Looks like my best friend can't keep her hands off me. I'm Chloe Price.”

Warren and Kate both shook Chloe's eager hand. “Come on, Chloe. We have to leave before the cards find us and try to **** me.”

“Lead the way, Max.”

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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?

So November's Come,
Hazy leaves deck the trees;
Rotten ****** wrecked the sprecht,
gotta please, gotta tease.
Cotton crusted smile
took the style while spine dumb;
Freeze as whacks churn
spurned, danced to the crime hum.
Early squeeze amidst blitzed spritz, dark romancing,
prancing picket line fum-
bled; Ambled twixt crowds antsing.
Glazed, took prior avenue
espoused culture tazed/
Fazed, ascends erased hub,
Dire mazed/Liar snubbed;
Nah crowd sourced: after-shock stancing/
Corp core flexed waves/paves vexed glancing,
Dropped four, floor to score, music cull en(c)hancing.
Enchantingly out of touch; Butchered lemming dancing.

Rupturous rapturing gospel takes all:
Sports neck line with wreck wine drenched via stall,
Appalling, talling tower looms abroad
Broad took shin dig as grin, fling; swig accord.
Objectified Subject, with verb kept in tow
flits through the fine lines, and cracks in the snow.

Noticed grave shadows, slow; ravens attest
a'Gig'a'Sibling invested in scoping, and chest;
Blooming bioluminescence scatters down/
Frothy broth fairly broiled. Scorn fawning Noun/
Habit forming, tarnished, ab(d)jectified malt-core
Verby? Nun-thank-you-muchly, Mary Mag-dolla store.

.... So November's Come,
Clubbed, stepped and altared.
Brushed away the dark hype
crowd mic check faltered.
Dastardly respite. Psyche.
Planted positively preened
nature:societal fiend
crept crudely, rudely James Deaned.
Pants 'cocked, stewed, steamed',
Megalithic mount gleaned
as posture postulates
cost you fate, spate-spoke-stake, ****-rate
vibrate denatured, protein plucked feud
fueled larger sense of afterlife tense imbued.
Spotted shortly crossèd portly,
tautly tossed courtly cost,
'nawt'ly flossed' possed thoughtly;
Sportly Mossed Kate washed
scene brimmed/beamed/loved
'Leaned' fussed. Trussed team musk/
Stock puppet power-aid, raid's pretty husk.
****** sidekicks show side slicks, stuck chiming bitty.
Flickering afterdark lark glistens, gritty-city-fitty.
Bought distorted Faster Mark, Narc acrossed shark,
passed past the Rasta Park, embarked'n'stashed arc.

Dark the dreams that crept to the fallen gate/
dazzled gems and hellish rhinestones irk fate.
Grated joy, plated coyly, then doff broke;      
spoke symphony of fattened tire/wire frame joke;
Took twisted lyre, choir, to tame my europa,
maybz next time a better luck'n'fly my eloper,
clucky chickens plucked/fussed/cussed, a fitting trend,
Spare parts missing neural heart; a plasticated end.

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

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, *******, 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

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.

this one's just an assemblage of diverse
thoughts turned I̲nto a rhymed verse
no stories (alack), like a triple-decker
turned into a roofless single-decker
["no storeys"]
best intro ever
————————————————————————————————
in mY̲ op, lyric writing is
["in my opinion"]
a type of exercising, which
along with different lyrical tricks
rap is familiar for, e[ɪ]x—
["miliar" in "familiar" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "mil ya"]
—plains why some lyrically addicted perceive
lyric writing as sport
like a gym, cO̲[ɑ]ntent has weight
but it's, bY̲ & large, curb
appeal I get fixed on, jU̲st like Max Payne (a pill)
[Max Payne is a painkiller addict]
a kind of perfectionistical stiff
who's, lyrics-wise, a fiend for technique (technique)
so, while writing lyrics, the lead
thing is rhymes, so rhyme schE̲mes must be lit (must be lit)
just like an individual with
dope delivered I̲nto the syst.
["addicted"; "a pill [appeal]"; "a fiend"; "lit"; "dope"]
[all 5 words constitute a narcotic context]
[I have no intention to glorify dope or its consumption]
in a way, rhyme's a mag—ic of syllables, which
is something that should be given good heed
like a psychopath who can easily flip
speaking of which
you want to bet whether I wI̲nd up cast
inside a go[ɑ]ddamn mad—house? inasmuch as at
["Gotham"]
times it seems I'm becoming bats (slowly)
like the Gotham order up—holder
but some lines are, by all odds, compO̲sed by, um, joker
[the Batman, who's called "Bats" by his archfoe Joker]
like somebO̲dy feeling the need
of having fun, it's a Harley Quinn you should seek
["harlequin"]
or, at least, a ******* shrink, but you keep
[Harleen Quinzel was, before falling in love with her patient Joker]
[a psychologist, which is a type of mental health specialist]
[also called by the umbrella term "shrink"]
being that dog in the mid of a lit
room like "this is fine" (not really)
this wicked mind's deprived of peace like a leak-
-taker recently finished the leak (stupid)
["****"]
how violent & vindictive it ge[ɪ]ts
sometimes, esp. when my sh#t's getting writ
guess I'm seen, like a piece of a flick
["scene"]
as a somewhat despicable *****
with all the indecency & hostility writ (like Shady)
but if there's sO̲meone willing to b#tch
about that, such type of people should twig
something: an obnoxious lyricist, which
is what I chiefly am, is by far smaller evil in this
******* world next to ones who really commit
those or other villainous deeds (smaller evil)
[everything is relative]
moral nazis, like a stripper, should ge[ɪ]t
started from the top, i.e. corrupted pieces of sh#t
upholding **** systems that ge[ɪ]t
dissidents imprisoned, or victimized in prisons, or stiffed (**** systems)
["stiffed" in the sense of "killed"]
what I do may be seen as lyrical e[ɪ]x—
["sin"]
—tremism 'cause when I fi̲ll up a sheet
for bars, I, like a jihadi mad dog, gE̲[ɪ]t off the leash
["smaller evil"; "villainous deeds"; "stripper"; "corrupted"]
["**** systems"; "victimized in prisons"; "stiffed"; "jihadi mad dog"]
[all those constitute a sin-related context]
but I'm a bored hundido that's leashed (hundido that's leashed)
bark like crazy with lines of texts I indite
that's what the reallity makes me feel like
autocracies' po[ɑ]litics make ill will rise (rise)
yeah, diving into music or some on-screen type
of entertainment can help an ill mind
to feel fine (somewhat), but that's just a ****-time (**** time)
almost nothing vis-a-vis a thrill ride
guess we all need some real high
as if we've climbed atop a prodigious cliff, right? (real high)
yeah, with this pretty skilled mind (lyrics-wise)
["pretty" in the sense of "somewhat", not "very"]
I'm like a demi-go[ɑ]d when I rhyme
A̲[ɑ]lthough sometimes
I feel so worthless & **[ɑ]llow, just like
words of someO̲ne full of lies, so wonder not why
I want to have some power sometimes
not the one of a ty—**** or a high-qualified
gunfighter backed by an army of private sublime
gunfighters; but if I̲ had such might
[on the second thought, who the hell would mind having it?]
[and that's the main humankind problem]
[given that humans seem to be highly evolved animals]
to utili̲ze, I'd not try to become the tyrant-like type
[the "lize, I'd" part is supposed to be read/pronounced as "luyzad"]
of ruler (no); it's said justice is blind
but I'm vigilante-like in my mind (vigilante-like)
so the justice of mine is more like an eye for an eye
evil must be punished, I side
with Rorschach, A̲[ɑ]lthough, as I
mentioned in one of my lines, in mY̲ judgement, vice
to apply is alright when you fight
["going against baddies with vice"]
against greater evil; I give nO̲[ɑ]t a ****, like
a dental clinic with a budget unhigh
["dam"]
if somebO̲[ɑ]dy upright's not fine with what I'm
about to say, but, po[ɑ]litics-wise, my mind's satisfied
when a power-corrupted sheisser'***** by
a ****** dO̲wnfall & I
know 'bout it, whether it's a confinement behind
bars or a violent demise (or something else unfortunate)
depending on crimes realized (crimes)
by them; all the ******-handed tyrants are quite
deserving of sU̲ch things, besides
their cold-hearted sidekicks in crime (cold-hearted)
I don't encourage violence, but my
vote goes for a tsar genocide (tsar genocide)
yeah, you barely get penalized in real life
(which is such a shame)
but, like a machine for grinding wood, I've
got you pulverized in my lines
————————————————————————————————
oh, &, in view of the higher writ lines
there's the final thing I'd
like to mention: ***** auto[ɑ]cracy, like
it's a female tyrant to swive (ha-ha)
[no offense toward women intended, I'm just an entertainer with a wicked mind]

somehow the smile squirms onto my face
simply squealing my satisfaction to the standers-by
silently shielding citizens from the sorrow stuck to my skeleton
scarcely saving sidekicks from similar sadness
In some way stopping the shameless self-destruction
sequestered under the smirk

down deep darkness develops
devouring doubtful delight that daily diseases my dour identity
Done. I Declare. Indefinitely Done
death a door to destroy my desperate dismay
despite, the demon endures to deride
deeming my demise de rigueur

a feint fulfilling my fate
finally finishing the fallacy,
from which life flooded
finally finishing the fallacy,
flicking freedom from the frame
Stopping Death From Stalking Despondent Folks

When I was a girl
Around eight years old
My parents used to take me to ice cream
Every weekend
That bell above the store door would chime
Happy to see another paying customer
Even when the snow outside howled like ghosts
That bell above the store door would chime.
And every weekend I would limp into the store
With all the excitement I could muster
And I always felt like I was being  
carried away
Into a mythical world made of frozen sugar
The perfume of waffle cones, chocolate, coffee, and vanilla
Mixed and melted into a tornado of deliciousness
That swirled around my tiny body.
But my joy would shatter like a mirror
When my mom would demand that I choose
Between chocolate and vanilla
And I couldn't for the life of me
Understand why
How could I choose?
Why did I have to choose?
Could I not have both?
Could I not have the rich deep taste of chocolate and brownie chunks
Alongside the calming smell and gentle flavor of vanilla?
Ultimately I couldn't
I was eight
Had no authority
And my mom was paying
So I always chose chocolate
Different but still safe
Still normal.
This dilemma of choice always seemed to follow me as I aged growing into a bigger beast
With each year
With each decision
It clung to my shadow
Always reared it's ugly head when I just needed it to go away for a second and let me think
Let me breathe.
Throughout elementary school
I struggled to choose between
Transformers
Or princesses
I again couldn't fathom why I couldn't choose both
Why I couldn't be both.
Why couldn't I enjoy explosive white noise
And women with pretty dresses who sang songs and had animal sidekicks?
I didn't want to choose
I again wanted both
But of course, I couldn't
Because of the fact I was destined to grow ******* in the future
I chose princesses
Pink
Pretty
Normal
Safe.
In my freshman year of high school, I yet again had to choose
Boys?
Or girls?
I felt the weight of each choice weigh on me like bricks
The pressure of the gossip and venomous whispers I could encounter
Crushing me like I was at the bottom of the sea
Could I not have the
Strength
of a man
And the soft comfort of a fellow female
I couldn't choose
I just couldn't
So I forced myself to be straight as a pole
Steady and unwavering
I wouldn't accept that I was a pole that swayed in the wind
Going back and forth like a pendulum
I wanted both
Her soft touch
His strong chest
Her honey-sweet voice
His rough kiss
Her perfume
His cologne
Her
Him
Her
Him
My mind kept swinging back and forth endlessly
I couldn't handle it
I couldn't stand the fact that I swayed back and forth so easily
I always decided
I always was as normal as I could manage
Why now?
Why this?
Why was this the thing that shattered me like glass?
I ran
I'm ashamed of myself for it
But I ran from this problem
This choice
The beast had grown too large for me to handle.
I quarantined my emotions like they were each a deadly disease
And I became numb
Empty
Cold
A blank canvas that I refused to label
So the beasts prowling in my head did it for me.
Emo
Trash
Useless
Disgusting
Spaz
*******
Freak
Lazy
Fat
Unlovable
Stupid
And many more.
But today
I fight my beasts head on
And sure I may not have a blade
But I am fighting with all I can
I fight with my tongue and teeth
Because they're all I have left.
Today  
I sculpt a new ice cream shop
I walk up to the door slowly
My heart pounding loudly in my ears like a drum
After a moment I enter
Leaving my beasts outside at the door
The bell above the door chimes
Happy to see me after all these years of emptiness
This is my ice cream shop
My safe space
And this time
I can
And will
Have it all
Chocolate swirled alongside vanilla
A princess driving a transformer.
And I shall love men and woman
Because my heart yearns for both
Life is too short for me to let beasts run my mind anyway.

I was there through it all
Through your low terrain life up to the pinnacle of it,
I miss the days where both of us were of equal heir in this norm
In this world
Though there are times i felt like robin beside batman,
But just like any other sidekicks i got your back.
But now that I am the one needing someone i could rest my burdens on you're holding back,

I'm now just a 'kick' having no 'side' to lean on
This was a mistake, dancing in your storm,
We've come so far and i think I lost you somewhere,
But the catch is
You never look back