Sat on a sedan
Spiderman took her hand.

Went down on one knee
And said
Will you marry me?

I cannot face
The rest of eternity
With each generation's
Take on modernity.

It's old fashioned values
I look for and see -

Your confidence,
Common sense,
Your honesty,
Sincerity,
Your quirkiness
And peacableness.

But most of all
Your peerless take on life
Is what does it for me.

Will you be my wife?

Spiderman, Spiderman,
How you do woo!
And you have such qualities
That draw me to you -

Your patience,
Respect,
Your considerable intellect,
Your gentleness,
Strength of mind -

I could go on at length and find
You could  be my cobweb?
I could  be your fly?

Could you  be the man for me
Until the day I die?

What more can I say than
You may have concurred
That I do things my own way.

So can you guess?

Little Miss Muffet Said Yes!

And do you know what?

As they lay there
On that Le Corbusier chair
Without a care in the world -

And you know it's not novel
To be graphic -

They were not afraid at all.

There are more songs on today about suicide than love,
My beauty queen friend died of a ****** overdose
A day before her fleeting birthday.
A kid in my brother's third grade classroom
Hung himself "trying to be Spiderman"
When not even a week ago
He was trembling on the playground,
Begging for help when no one would listen.

Girls flash pieces of lumped skin called scars,
Proud of them because they have overcome.
But I guess no one ever told them that those scars
Were supposed to be metaphors,
A smoking gun at the back of a hero.

There's a kid in my class who picks at his scabs
And pulls his hair
And I can picture him
At the bottom of the bottle in a year or so.

We find more solace in fiction than fact,
Because 35 people were shot this weekend in my hometown
But in Megaman the shots never actually hurt.
We shouldn't be thinking about all the violence, though,
Because at least Miley twerked a solid and dropped it low.

A drunken fool killed an old couple last week,
But all I heard on the news was that Transformers 4 is spiking the charts
Even though Michael Bay directed it
And he can't make a movie
Without filling the seats
With people wanting to only see
******* and ***** and explosions they could see
If they looked down their own street at the right time.

Sometimes I get caught up in the mess,
Obsessed with those who post offense on articles
While we ignore the fact that a baby has been cured of AIDS!
I bring myself to wonder at the insignificance of you and I,
As bullets fly and young girls cry
Over slashes and stretch marks in their thighs.
If mirrors are out greatest enemy, than
Why are we fighting the bosses of our lives,
Ready to strike down the opposition?

Life goes on past all these insecurities.
There'll be graves to visit and chances to take
But I'm not the only one who thinks this way.
I can't be the only one who thinks this way...

So here's to Spiderman,
Who told us that with great power comes
Great responsibility.
Throw your fist in the air with me and face up to that.
We've driven ourselves to suffer far worse
Than we have to.
Fight the important battles and
Leave the rest to sand.
And come back to me,
Refreshed and renewed.

Bring my reasoning your weak and I
Will make them whole once more.

I enjoy watching my baby boy’s drama
In his room, on his bed among his toys
What a superb imagination
Translated in a form of play...
A battle between the amazing legacy of heroes
Put George Lucas in the house of shame
With his famous Luke Sky walker,  
In Star Wars saga
Have Sam Raimi’s done his research well?
In creating Spiderman 3?
With this “genius in the making” young child
Left alone to build his creativity
I am convinced  with obvious prediction...
Hollywood superheoes  would be doomed..
Here is a 2 year old boy
In Spideman suit, Acting Spiderman,
hitting the Angry bird jet
The jet punches Spiderman back.
Then, Mama is forced to sleep with Spiderman
Forced Mama again, this time to love the Man of Steel
After the gruel some battle,
Jet & Spiderman decided to sleep together
in the pink hammock with Tigger.
The proud child is happy ,
His mission is accomplished!
A bottle of luke warm milk...
Well done! He earns his trophy
Tonight  he helps to save the world.

Little Miss Muffet
Sits not on a tuffet
But on a Le Corbusier chair.

Curds and whey
Are not for her
As she is a vegan
And rarely eats between meals.

Along comes Spiderman,
Sits down on a sedan
And questions her
On all things entomological
And graphic novels.

And do you know what?

She is not afraid at all!

I always assume
that kids know how to be kids.
I'm sure we weren't taught the skills, were we?
No-one pointed to a tree and said,
"See that?  Climb it."
And if Craig or Chris or Jamie pointed a finger
and said, "Bang!",
no referee had to discreetly whisper
"You're supposed to fall down now."

But something as natural as breathing
is falling by the wayside.
These small humans aren't kids -
not like we were.
Company is a chore for them,
screen-seeking solipsists,
and I worry for their future, constantly.

If my six-year-old self
were to appear amongst them
he would stand, baffled,
full of useless power
Like Spiderman
on the Norfolk Broads.

I'm in love with spiderman
he may be called off
at any time
he goes where the wind blows
at least I know he's doing good
wherever he is

meanwhile I'm surrounded
by simple states of arousal

All my pwoblems,
who knows, maybe evwybody’s pwoblems
is due to da fact, due to da awful twuth
dat I am SPIDERMAN.

I know, I know. All da dumb jokes:
No flies on you, ha ha,
and da ones about what do I do wit all
doze extwa legs in bed. Well, dat’s funny yeah.
But you twy being
SPIDERMAN for a month or two. Go ahead.

You get doze cwazy calls fwom da
Gubbener askin you to twap some booglar who’s
only twying to wip off color T.V. sets.
Now, what do I cawre about T.V. sets?
But I pull on da suit, da stinkin suit,
wit da sucker cups on da fingers,
and get my wopes and wittle bundle of
equipment and den I go flying like cwazy
acwoss da town fwom woof top to woof top.
Till der he is. Some poor dumb color T.V. slob
and I fall on him and we westle a widdle
until I get him all woped. So big deal.

You tink when you SPIDERMAN
der’s sometin big going to happen to you.
Well, I tell you what. It don’t happen dat way.
Nuttin happens. Gubbener calls, I go.
Bwing him to powice, Gubbener calls again,
like dat over and over.

I tink I twy sometin diffunt. I tink I twy
sometin excitin like wacing cawrs. Sometin to make
my heart beat at a difwent wate.
But den you just can’t quit being sometin like
SPIDERMAN.
You SPIDERMAN for life. Fowever. I can’t even
buin my suit. It won’t buin. It’s fwame wesistent.
So maybe dat’s youwr pwoblem too, who knows.
Maybe dat’s da whole pwoblem wif evwytin.
Nobody can buin der suits, dey all fwame wesistent.
Who knows?
--JIM HALL

You're 'heroes' aren't real people
They're drawings and hopes and tales
Real heroes are the ones that help
They're the ones that really care.
Now, don't get me wrong,
Superman is great and all
But he's really just a figure
Just strong and buff and tall.
Batman, Spiderman, they're figures too,
Their stories tell ones of crime
But I know some even better ones
Some stories really worth the time.
It's the kids that don't get noticed
The ones that are left behind
You can't put the name to face,
But they've been there this whole time.
Everyone comes before they do,
They're ready to make a change
They help, sacrifice, volunteer
And you always found it strange.
Does it seem so weird, now?
Have you grown up and seen it for real?
They're the Superman, Batman, Spiderman too
They're the ones that helped people heal.
Remember that day you dropped your books?
Remember when you felt so alone?
It's those kids that helped and lent a hand
They're the ones that should be known.
So next time you pick up a comic
Even you, in your growing age,
Superheroes are the ones in real life
Not the fighters on a page.

There he was all alone
Fighting on the billboard
His relevance shown
It came with a flow
Spiderman is a teenage boy
that flies around
and lands like a toy
on the ground.
He has an African-American girlfriend
in high school
that he has to stand up
to go on a mission to fight a fool
played expertly by Michael Keaton
Spiderman doesn't have too a boyfriend
He seems "clean" to me and on
the up,
not that I would hate him
if he was for example a bisexual
They're surely not fishing
with looks like Tiny Tim
and even a *******.
They seem not fishy too
He fights mission after mission
fighting grandiose figures
seething repression
On and on the action goes
Spiderman is the hit of the show.

briano alliano at saturn club rings


hi dudes and welcome to my show, the first song is born to PARTY

you see i was born to PARTY, on a sarturday night

i don’t care what the oldies say, i will just party anyway

you see i have a reason, everything is going well



so i will just party hardy, yeah i feel so cool

i want to be like the young dudes of this land

and get into the party spirit every way i can

i don’t really need a reason, no, i am cool anyway

you see i was born to party, so i will do it anyway

i will sink into the ground man, wearing high heel shoes

i will go to my mates house, with dreams of moving in

he was a bit mental, as he couldn’t understand

that i was born to party, and that is what i do

you see we will grab a methane and squirt it everywhere

and then grab a beer or two, yeah that is quite yobboish

you see we get drunk which means we are high on life

every day of the yeah, so we were born to party

like the young dudes do, ya see don’t spike my drink, man

i am too cool for you, you see i have a point in life, to never

unattend my drink, you see i know the tablet will make you drowsy

so he could kidnap you, bu i am too cool for that

you see i was born to party, and that is what i do

i was born to party, fun for me and you

hi dudes and now here is rock the party

you see i feel like i am having fun rock the party rock the party

i wanna party while the night is young, rock the party rock the party

i cheer for the ACT brumbies, well, they lost well, they lost

you see the bar is a open a open a open, and the party is turning on all the party going dudes

and the beer is selling quickly along with the gassy methane, man

ready to tip the methane on us, man, we will party

you see i saw a house which was great, and my mate wanted me to move in

so i thought about it, it’ll be fun to party, fun to party fun to party on

moving on up and moving on down and marilyin monroe put on a broadway show on neptune so cool

then sam kinison sang wild thing, and i liked his add lib, you know my heart is longing for you dude

making you wanna scream, rock the party rock the party

then i ate some cheese and bacon *****, and gusted them down with coke

the party started to form in my mouth and making me feel so cool

before i went to sleep i listened to kiss, bon jovi and a broadway show, called spiderman

and i ate mars bars and drink juice, yeah that sounds so radical

saturday night is the night to rock the party rock the party

and i opened a keg of methane and tipped it all over adam walsh and brett

to improve the quality of the olsen twins, to make them PARTY again

so really we are getting into a great rock the party rock the party

and we’ll party all saturday night long

hi dudes and now here is another tune called my life is a stinker

you see last night i was wondering why i haven’t performed on stage

could it be that i was too **** shy, or was it i was just not ready

i really want it all so ****** much, to show the world how to party party

but this is how i just relax, and let my life pass me by

you see my life is a stinker, every day and night

i want to party, but it’s a secret just between you and me

you see i spend my money on fun and games, mainly done with alcohol

i buy my girl some raggedy old fashioned sort or doll

she yelled at me from 10 to 10, it was hard for me to cope

and the only way to get past this, is switch on the TV to hear the pope

my life is a stinker, every day and night, i wish you would leave me alone, please mate yeah alright

ooooooh cosmos

my way of entertainment is the poetry slam, and bad slam no biscuit yeah

i entertain everyone oh yeah, i shake their ****** boogie, yes my dear

then my name is called and i enter the stage and slam

my poetry like it’s a good thing, dude, every day and night

my life is a stinker, every day and night

you see we will party hardy every night, no i say no to fights

cause my life is a stinker, take me away from the psych ward

that isn’t the place for me, i am too nice for that place

hi dudes, and here is another song called fly burgers

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato and have so much fun

now at the footy, the flies are cooking on the plate

they are saying, momma, you are stopping up too late

just catch a well cooked blowie, and throw him in the bowl

where you have the burger mix, yeah that is so cold

fly burgers, are good enough to eat

fly burgers, are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato

and have so much fun

in a restaurant a fly comes in and parks on the griller

you feel like honking like dharma’s old yeller

but instead you get two buttered buns and lettuce and tomato

get the fly and serve him up, tasty as gelato

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato’'

and have so much fun

in the summer friends drop round to enjoy the atmosphere

some bring coke some bring wine

and most of them brought beer

the bbq man noticed a fly upon his back

he gets the fly and serves him up, OH HERE JACK

fly burgers, are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato

and have so much fun

the hospital has been busy this year since fly burgers were on the menu

people say fly burgers put germs right in you

an old man and a young boy, both died of food poisoning

but nobody knows if it was the fly burgers that did them in

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato, my dray

and have some and have so and have so much fun

hi dudes, this is a song called i am a family party dude

i am a family person who is looking everywhere for a party

at the club on grand final daY, and on poetry slam day

where we yell out bad slam no biscuit bad slam no biscuit

all the ****** day, we could be celebrating your daughters graduation

from a school she so adored

then we drag out the old songs, and the young dudes get bored

you see partying is so much fun, no matter how hard you try

you see you try and be a fun loving guy like who really loves to p a r t y

oooh, i wanna rock and roll all night, and party every day

how much coffee do you drink to whisk the hangover away

i used to go to the blind beggars inn, to really let my hair down

now, i party at home with youtube, yeah that sounds so rad

you see i am a family party dude, who wants to have some fun

i want music and sport, yeah alrighty, that sounds like my type of fun

cool man, cool you, i say cool me, i am a family party dude

the man of the party is here, last night i went to the club to watch the brumbies they lost i won

the chance to go home and party in front of youtube, with bon jovi and kiss as well as spiderman the musical, pretty rad

then i fell asleep on the couch, ready to come to you, and show you how to party hardy, yeah that is true blue

hey true blue, don’t say the party’s over, just because you go home, doesn’t mean you can’t party

you see i used to go to night clubs and swing with the cool dudes there, hey true blue

you see i am a family party dude, i party everywhere

i am getting younger by the minute, and i still love life, so party on dudes, no fear

i get up late on sunday morning, after this great party in the stars

and after this, i will go to jupiter and neptune to muck around in bars

tipping methane all over everyone, yeah that sounds radical dude

PARTY PARTY PARTY on saturday night, yeah i am so cool

cool you, yeah cool me, the coolest dude of the cosmic realm

ready to party yeah we will

I've had a taste of my father's medicine
But it wasn't in any way a cure.
It stung like the strongest kind of heroine
That made me prisoner in this ****** moor.

It was an addictive transformation
Where I almost lost myself
A painful venom was set in motion
Yet I didn't want to cry for help.

I don't need those foggy glasses
I'm a man with a spider's sense
I weave courage while I kick some *****
Not a nerd who cleans his camera's lense.

But how can I be called strong
If I couldn't even beat this irony
Though I save a hundred people all day long
I couldn't protect those who are dear to me.

If only I could defeat the monster
This eight-legged demon inside me
I wouldn't have to say "In great power
Comes great responsibility."

A bicycle is the most efficient transportation machine.  A little input and I’m gliding, moving a useful measurable distance but more than that. I like going fast enough so the wind in my ears is louder than my thoughts.  On a tough day I like riding until I can be grateful again; sometimes that takes a couple hours but every ride is a good ride.

My youth’s independence was a banana seat Huffy pulled from an under-appreciated pile of rust in the back of St. Vincent’s Thrift Shop.  No school bus meant riding to school, the first 45 minutes of every day in all weather. Afternoons were exploring detours; summers were expeditions to the city limits, sometimes beyond.  I needed an upgrade for high school; I found a spotless antique 3 speed Raleigh, the cultural English workhorse collecting dust in an unlikely garage for $50.

I kept it through two foster homes. The first one kept me busy with farm chores, but the second was back in town. There, I had the bike back, and as an aside, they had a phenomenally sophisticated wall sized sound system: reel-to-reel and amazing headphones. I would forget myself in records: Sgt. Peppers, Genesis, Yes, etc, and another favorite. Just a guitar and piano instrumental album with a simple melody called Bricklayer’s Beautiful Daughter. Something about that one song in particular I heard faint glimmerings of contentment that was denied to me.  I would replay it to cling to this hint of a simple happiness I didn’t understand; that if it was in the song, it was somewhere deep in me.
Without a car for 10 years, one used 10-speed or another got me to various eccentric jobs.  

Fast forward to the life-changer, after a divorce. Needing to reconnect with myself, I searched for a decent bike. I found it hanging dusty in the back of a cluttered boutique shop smelling of tire rubber, quiet with racers’ confidence. They had a Lemond thoroughbred on consignment, assembled custom 5 years earlier to race. It was slightly outdated, but a dent on the top tube put it out to pasture. It was steel though, so rideable enough for me.  My entire $300 savings and it was mine. Then I discovered the special pedals needed special shoes, so another month saving for those.  I wasn’t going to wear those silly spiderman outfits, until I started to ride more than 10 miles and my **** demanded it.  And those pockets in the back of the shirt were handy.  I met a friend who taught me how to draft: my skinny wheel a few inches behind the bike in front at 20 mph, to save precious energy in the slipstream. Truly dangerous, vulnerable, and effectively blinded; but he pointed at the ground with various hand signals to warn of upcoming road hazards. I was touched by this wordless language of trust and camaraderie. This innate concern is essential to the sport, even among competitors, so it seems to attract quality people I liked.  My new life expanded with friends.

I discovered biking exercise could stabilize the life-long effects of brain injury, lost some weight, grew stronger, and started setting goals.  First longer group rides, then a century (100 miles in one ride), then mountain biking: epic fun in nature, unadulterated happiness.  Then novice racing, then the next category up with a team, then a triathlon.  It became an admitted obsession but I won a pair of socks or bike parts every now and then.  Eventually tattooed two bike chains around my ankle, one twisted and the other broken.  I loved the lifestyle, and had truly reinvented and rediscovered myself.

A 500 mile ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles with fellow wounded veterans helped dissipate the old shame from the military.  I had joined the ride to raise money for a good cause.  I respected the program and knew personally that cycling had changed my life.  They turned out to be inspiring, helping me more than I could have helped them.  Some had only just started riding a bike for only a few weeks, some were amputees fit with special-made adapters on regular bikes, some had no legs using hand cycles.  They all joined on to the task of riding 500 miles. No one whined, and helping each other finish the day was the only goal.  While riding with them, I began to open up about my experience.  I found a few others who also had TBI, and we could laugh about similar mishaps.  The other veterans didn’t judge me about anything, like when I was injured, the nature of my disability, how much I did or didn’t accomplish. I had signed up just like them, had to recover back to a functioning life just like them.  It was the first time in my life that whole chapter in my life was accepted; I wasn't odd, and they helped close the shame on that old chapter.  (Thank you, R2R.)  The next year I took a 1500 mile self-supported bike trip through western mountain ranges with my husband and soulmate, whom I had met mt. biking.

There was one late Spring day, finally warm after a long winter, when I just wanted to ride for a few hours by myself.  No speedometer or training intervals, just enjoy the park road winding under the trees. I had downloaded some new music on the IPod, a sampler from the library.  I felt happy.  Life is Good.  Rounding a bend by the river, coasting through sunbeams sparkling the park’s peaceful road, my earphones unexpectedly played Bricklayer’s Beautiful Daughter.  I hadn’t heard that simple guitar tune in three decades.  My God, time suddenly disappeared.  I was right back in the forgotten foster home, listening for the faint silver threads of the contentment I was feeling at this very moment on the bike.  The full force of this sudden connection, the wholeness of the life and unity of myself in one epiphany, brought me to tears. I found myself pouring my heart into praying hang in there, girl, hang in there, you’ll find it and I felt my younger self hearing echoes of birds singing in new green leaves.

You have these helium balloon pair of arms, that always tend to lift me up when I fall.

You raised me as part slingshot and part boomerang and no matter how far I go in life I’ll still return home.

You've taught me that we are all keys, and if I don't fit in then I wasn't made for what’s behind that door.

Sometimes, I spend too long at some doors. And I break my edges trying to fit in, till I can never open the doors for which I was made anymore.

Some days, your lessons are like the edges of a jigsaw puzzle, they’re the starting points to fix me when I’m a mess.

Your smile reminds the super glued, ice sculpture in my chest what it feels like to be warm.

I come from a long line of glass spines and barbwire teeth and my back was as bad as my bite. But you've taught me to carry the world on my shoulders and kiss Mary Jane on the cheeks.

I see the Irony of the cobwebs on your letters.

It’s not so funny when it’s on your head stone.

This mask is alive in follows my soul,
Surrounding my body my friends and my home,
This space inbetween us decreases with wind,
The world sitting under us hiding within.

This mask is electric its forces are strong,
It shuts up my mouth and its rubber so long,
It changes my stature my face and my life,
It colors my soul and it preaches my sight.
This mask is a darkness,
Foundation of light.
It seeps through my irises and seems unpolite.
It causes me anger and stress and a fire.
This mask is a cage after all I'm inspired.

Its vacuum is black and it tears me apart.
Valueless words and valueless art.
It hides all the worth and replaces demand.
If I'm Michael Myers then you're Spiderman.

Yes ok, so I had to dress up as a nun!
Me, Jack and Bathsheba in a film about
Spiderman, and dedicated to Chris Smith.
Why?
Not sure really, except Chris likes spiderman I suppose.
Anyway, enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S6slctF2Ato

Gusto mo kape?
'O gusto mo tayo nalang,puwede
'O Teka,biro Lang
Pangako kape lang talaga,Tara na
Ano bang gusto **** lasa?
Matamis ba?
Para kahit sa pagtimpla nalang ng kape ko ibabawi yung lasa ng nais ko sa iyo'y ma-ipadama
Gusto mo ba'y Matabang?
'Yung wala ng lasa
'Yung wala ng pag-asa
'Yung kulang sa timpla
Dahil napagod na.

'O baka Gusto mo naman
'Yung sakto lang
'Yung kahit may gusto kang iba
Ako'y patuloy paring aasa
At kahit mangawit man ng sobra
At magpawis man ng kakaiba sa kakahintay,
Sa akin ay ok lang
Kahit ako'y kaibigan lang naman,Mahal
Basta ikaw
At kung ang sagot sa lahat ay pag-papakatanga
Sigurado ako ang nangunguna.

'O baka gusto mo ng 3 in one?
'Cause you want me to be your number one fan
Just like my favorite man
Superman
Spiderman
And maybe a man of mine
Nako ano ba yan!
Ano ba talaga gusto **** lasa?
Ayoko ng manghula pa
Kaya sabihin mo na
Para di nako mahirapan pa na
Ipagtimpla ka pa.

Ah alam ko na!
Gusto mo rin ba yung lasa tulad ng aking pag-timpla?
'Yung nag-kakasalubong yung tamis at pait ng kapeng barako
Oo
Kapeng barako
Parang tayo
Kapag ang mga mata nati'y nag-tatagpo na akala mo naman ay may salitang tayo
Kung nakakapag salita lamang ang ating mga mata
Sigurado
Bistado
Aminado  na gusto natin ang isa't-isa.

Pero
Teka,Kape lang ba 'to talaga?
'O meron pang iba?
Sabihin mo na
Para hindi na ako umasa pa na mahulog ka pa.
Tara kape pa
Para makasama pa kita
Ang sarap lang ma-upo kasama ka sa ating tambayan
Kasabay sa pagtanaw sa ating kalawakan.

'O kay sarap sa pakiramdam noong sandaling  ika'y aking mahagkan
At batid kong ito'y panandalian lamang, Kaya
Tara kape lang
Kahit walang aminan
Dahil alam ko naman na
Tayong dalawa'y malabong mag-katuluyan.

I love you for your laughter
your soft hair
the morning routines I tried to adopt, that you have down to a science
the way you gaze into the abyss
with tender expressions
the careful footsteps
the blushing falseness
the pretty lace and ribbons
the black eyeliner and studded collars


BUT

beards and hunting and fishing
flannels and strength and handsome fellers
truck stops and smoking
whiskey and bonfires
g i joe and spiderman

but most of all batman and joker
the complications of comics

gaming on friday nights with bottles of bud
I love men and boys and women and girls and ladies and gentlemen

Daddy! Daddy! Can I be a superhero when I grow up? Like superman. Or batman!*

of course you can. You cqn be anything you want

We no longer dream
I always wanted to be flash
Or the green lantern
I went through I spiderman phase but that passed

Then I grew up a little bit
And I wanted to be batman
I mean he is the only feasible superhero
His gadgets are possible
His martial arts are possible
As a whole he can actually happen
That's why I loved him
I still wanted to be a superhero

I no longer think it's possible
It would be fun to have laser eyes
Or sick fighting moves
But it's just a dream.....
So knowing its not possible
So we stop dreaming
We might want to save everybody
But we know its not possible

Kissing upside-down.*
At first it seems like a fun idea.
(If spiderman can, we can, right?)
But ultimately, it's clumsy
And awkward.
They say opposites attract
But when my top lip
And your bottom lip
Try to match up together,
There's no denying,
It doesn't quite fit.
A crash-collision.
With him it was like kissing upside-down:
Cool for a while
But the top and bottom just don't match
Quite like they do right-side up,
And it lost its novelty at a steady pace.
Two different halves don't always make a whole.
Sometimes it's two of the same.
Kissing her is like kissing regular.
I don't mean regular-regular.
I mean over the moon,
Past the stars,
Around the universe and back again regular.
I mean running so fast you think your legs
Might fall out from under you
And  you might learn to fly regular.
I mean spinning in circles
On an old tire swing
Until you reach that moment when you forget where you are
And feel the rotation of your organs
So you stop to watch the world swirl before you
Putting everything out of perspective regular.
As unique as 'normal' could possibly exist.
I guess
For me,
Him and her
Just didn't seem to fit
The same way
She and her
Does.
And I don't think I'll be kissing anyone
Upside-down again
For a while.

This mask is alive in follows my soul,
Surrounding my body my friends and my home,
This space inbetween us decreases with wind,
The world sitting under us hiding within.

This mask is electric its forces are strong,
It shuts up my mouth and its rubber so long,
It changes my stature my face and my life,
It colors my soul and it preaches my sight.
This mask is a darkness,
Foundation of light.
It seeps through my irises and seems unpolite.
It causes me anger and stress and a fire.
This mask is a cage after all I'm inspired.

Its vacuum is black and it tears me apart.
Valueless words and valueless art.
It hides all the worth and replaces demand.
If I'm Michael Myers then you're Spiderman

Dear Mom,
Hey! How’re things?
So, LA is weird. It’s all sticks and stones and billion dollar homes. Last week on the Metro I forgot my headphones, but it all worked out because there was a homeless man who was naked from the waist down except for a pair of Spiderman underwear with the tag still attached who was singing “Sweet Caroline” at the top of his lungs.
Everyone here is someone important. They live the philosophy of Descartes like scripture.
I think therefore I am... exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping because my mind has taken up running, which means it’s acclimating to the culture here quicker than my body because everyone in this town ******’ loves running almost as much as they love vintage shoes and car horns.
It’s strange though, I can’t shake this feeling that I’ve lost something.
Anyway, I love you.

Dear Mom,
Thank you for the eyes.
Last afternoon a stranger told me they were beautiful, and on a day where every mirror seemed to be of the funhouse variety, it was a welcome compliment.
I’m sorry I haven’t called in a few weeks, please don’t think it’s because I don’t miss you.
It’s just, lately, I’ve been feeling a bit like a marionette whose had his strings clipped.
Slumped and crumpled.
Small.
Collapsed and sprawled cracked in some forgotten corner--the hollow knock of wood bouncing across the walls of this mezzanine dressed in finer things than me that have been fostered by
Father Time and his Mistress Stillness.
And I know how you worry.
You worry ‘til bones bruise and still your skeleton aches to shoulder my melancholy yourself, so I can’t bear to bridge this distance with crestfallen phone calls where the past year locks fully loaded on six-shooter lips--the way heels cling to cliffs edge--before finally, reluctantly, free falling; firing off each round.
Six words aimed with eyes closed as if it were up to God to decide where they’d hit:
“I wish I could come home...”
Then your silent, empty-cartridge, catacomb sigh would just teach this telephone how cavernously a mother’s heart aches for her children.


Dear Dad,
I know it goes without saying, but thank you for the check and the note attached to it.
It’s hard to describe how much home I find in the deft curves of your surgeon’s cursive.
I hope you’re doing well. Last time I saw you, you seemed a bit like a lit cigarette filter tip watching the singe approach.
Maybe it was just the embers of your eyes glazed over by one too many heavy handed nightcaps.
And this isn’t to say the Superman who stayed up late nights holding me through fits of anxiety has up and flown away, this is just to say you seem to be flickering.
This is just to say I hope you still laugh at bad movies with the thunderous bass of July fourth fireworks.
This is just to say I’ve been staying up late nights holding on to yesterday.

Dear Mom,
The care package was unnecessary.
I now have more Skittles than any one human should ever consider consuming in a lifetime. So thanks. I know I told you, at some point, years ago, that they were my favorite… but *******.
Really though, waking up to that box on my doorstep choked me up quicker than a swift kick to the nuts. You have a way of weaving through this heartland like a Middle-American interstate and I love you so much for that. It’s just next time, maybe try something that doesn’t have the nutritional value of flash-fried butter sticks.
But not too healthy. Maybe fruit leathers?
P.S. Keep the homemade fudge coming.

Dear Dad,
Forgive the handwriting of an earthquake.
My hands are shaking again like when I was young. I’ve been finding stillness, though, in between sips of five dollar coffee and midnight cigarette drags beneath and incandescent moon that seems to use breeze hands to play cat’s cradle with strings of smoke.
Life is fast here. It’s all gas pedal and touch-and-go breaks.
P.S. If you see mom, don’t mention the cigarettes.

Dear Mom,
I got your e-mail about smoking and the ensuing health issues it leads to. Graphic stuff. That was super informative and totally unprompted. Thanks for that.

Dear Dad,
...

Dear Mom,
Stop worrying so much, you’re making my bones ache.

Dear Dad,
In my dreams I am a lighthouse with an unfocused beam. I’m searching for something, I just don’t know what.
At least I’m sleeping right?

Dear Mom,
These days blur together with the fading speed of a half-life hardly lived to its fullest.
Was it different for you when you were my age? I shift between a drifting stick stuck in a current and desert stone.

Dear Dad,
In my dreams I’m a lighthouse.
There’s a fog horn distant.
I’m still searching for I don’t know what I’m searching for something and there’s a fog horn far off like it’s from someone elses dream but at least I’m sleeping.

Dear Mom,
Do you believe that streams take sticks where they need to be?

Dear Dad,
Have you dreamt of fog horns lately?
I am a lighthouse looking for a nameless something in fog so thick I should be choking.
But I’m not.
At my feet there are rocks and they’re jagged but I’m not anxious because they stay up late nights holding me.
And in the distance there’s a fog horn that seems to be saying “All is not lost.”

Dear Mom,
Do you think that desert stones are waiting for something?

Dear Dad,
In my dreams a lighthouse is built upon jagged rocks that are shaped like your hands. I’m searching for something and even though my lamplit electric torch eyes can’t touch the sky through this ******* fog, I keep them burning because I should be choking but I’m not, I’m finding stillness in the way breeze plays with smoke strings and far off there’s a fog horn distant promising “All is not lost.”

Dear Mom,
This town is all sticks and stones and broken home drifters.

Dear Dad,
All is not lost.

he step out of
depressed men
like a spider
out of his web..

Hindi ako si superman,
Hindi ako si batman
O si spiderman.
Hindi ako pinagkalooban ng kapangyarihan.
Hindi ako super hero na kaya kang iligtas sa oras ng kapahamakan.
Pero kung ako'y iyong kailangan,
Ika'y aking tutulungan
Hanggang sa dulo ng walang hanggan.

SUPER...MAN!

I wanted to be
your Superhero

but all the be best ones
were already taken.

Superman...Batman...Spiderman
(oh how they roll off the tongue)  

Dr. Strange or Daredevil or
Green Lantern even!

So I had to become
my own one.

Now I hear you cry
kiss-less & cuddle-less

but have no fear
for I am here

created by your own
longing

a Superhero to suit you!

'It's...it's
Mr. Kiss Kiss & Cuddles Man! '

'To the rescue! '

'Oh...my hero! '

I have to always
catch
myself nightly from
falling
off the edge
of my anxiety

sometimes I end up
hitting
the ground,

and that's when
I wish spiderman
would come swinging
on his web
to save me.