"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.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
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.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
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.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
**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....................................................................**
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
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.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
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.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
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.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
the whole world is circled around them
and we are left being their sidekicks.
Aug 29, 2023
Aug 29, 2023 at 2:04 PM UTC
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.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
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)
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 2:14 PM UTC
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
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
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.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
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
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
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
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 5:52 AM UTC
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
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
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
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
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
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
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
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
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.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
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
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
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
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
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?
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:56 AM UTC
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
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
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
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
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.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC