"ultra" poems
You are beautiful
You are tremendously beautiful
You are marvelously beautiful
You are astonishingly beautiful
You are magnificently beautiful
You are breathtakingly beautiful
Inner and outer
You are beautiful
You are the definition of Beauty
Or shall I say, what is Beauty compared to you
What is Beauty compared to you ?
It feels shy and ashamed when I describe you
A weak meaning it has when I describe you
A meaningless meaning it has when I describe you
Never existed it wishes when I describe you
You are beautiful
For your beauty I searched
Every language ever lived
And every word ever existed
And the romantic era that occurred
Could not find a way to describe your beauty
Could not find a way to tell the world about your beauty
You are beautiful
Vocabulary will be invented
Words never existed
To the dictionaries will be added
In the dictionaries will live
In the lovers tongues will breath
To describe your beauty
The one and the only beauty
The living and the dead will forget about Cleopatra
Because your beauty is ultra
A new period will start, The Beauty Era
Your era
--Hisham Alshaikh
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:20 PM UTC
National Liberation Day Of Korea
Freedom means August 15, 1945.
Koreans celebrate their day of liberation.
Freedom is like a Magpie,
Flying in the morning sky,
Above the ancient palaces of Seoul,
Freedom is like the Rose of Sharon,
Growing in "The land of morning calm."
Freedom is like a river named Han,
Unstoppable!
Freedom means flying the Taegeukgi.
Outside and high!
Freedom is Lively,
Freedom is President Moon Jae-in
President of South Korea,
Freedom is vibrant!
Freedom is festivals,
Freedom is unhindered!
Freedom is a Buddhist monk,
Everland!,
Freedom is unbound!
Freedom is tasty Kimchi,
Deoksugung Palace!
Freedom is lively parties,
Freedom is dancing,
The greatest Palaces of Seoul!
Freedom is treasured!
Freedom is a green bottle,
Soju!
Freedom is Arirang!
Korea's song,
A gift to the world from Korea,
Freedom is Queen Min; Still remembered,
Resting under a cherry blossom tree,
Freedom is Seoul!
A wonder to be seen on the Han River!
Freedom is luminous,
Busan Nightlife,
Changdeokgung Palace!
Freedom is unchained!
Freedom is sports,
Jeju-do!
Freedom is escape!
Freedom is honor!
Battle of Inchon!
Freedom is rising in the sky,
One of the most dynamic cities,
Seoul!
Freedom is no longer
Imprisoned,
Freedom is camping,
Freedom is priceless!
Freedom is one's honor!
Deoksugung Palace!
Freedom is treasured!
Freedom is the miracle,
Seoul!
Freedom is food,
Freedom is Kimchi,
Freedom is hopeful,
Freedom is Yu Gwan-sun!
Long live Korean independence!
Freedom is a Buddhist monk writing,
Freedom is thinking about your dreams,
Not looking behind your back!
Freedom is a child going to school,
Freedom is ultra-modern,
Seoul!
Freedom is escape!
Freedom is music,
K-POP!
Freedom is Arirang playing,
Freedom is essential,
White Day!
Freedom, people, shining in the sun,
Freedom is loved,
Yuna Kim!
Freedom is essential,
Freedom is "The March 1st Movement",
Yu Gwan-sun!
Freedom is shopping,
Freedom is walking our dogs,
Freedom is writing what you think,
Freedom is Sejong the Great!,
Hangul!
Freedom is bringing your dreams into the world,
Freedom is poetry,
Yun Dong-ju!
Freedom is traditions,
Freedom is wearing Hanbok.
Freedom is being empowered!
Freedom is.
Freedom is.
Freedom is.
A United Korea!!!
Copyright © 2013 - 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables,
square and socially pyramidal,
and I'm at the bottom.
But they're just fluorine factions,
bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity
with their negativity.
Because I'm light,
Ultra-violet violence to the eyes,
Magnesium burning.
Anti-matter meets matter.
And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive.
And they see me. They see, see, see,
But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality.
I'd better balance myself
Or I'm not getting a good reaction.
Classic ionic, ironic idiocy.
I've bonded with you,
just compounding the issues.
'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution:
now all I've got are problems.
Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me,
because over the years what was a bond
became a partially negative charge
against me.
I was your oxygen, and you were carbon
-ated, bubbly and explosive.
We would Combust.
But now all's left but to see, oh, two
of your new girlfriends flanking your sides,
'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things.
Monatomic monotones lace my speech,
and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell
that is myself.
'Cause I miss what we had.
We had chemistry.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
Extravagantly exorbitant mentality panacea
Pretentious eidetic’s ubiquity mnemonics
Extraversion embezzlement extortion mens rea
Endergonic laconic cacophony phonics
Preterite rendition enclitic equilibrist motion
Mystic symbiosis dharma spiritual sky
Brusque macabre abjections the gist of the potion
Straight up forever ontology on high
Obdurately abstruse vituperatively vociferous
Juxtaposition apparition myriad avarice
Orotund sonorous diction obliquitous
Multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis
Mirador bartizan phantasmagoria aesthetics
Guidon gyration excursion integration
Sorcerous alchemizing interstitial endemics
Chaos charisma objectified tribulation
Conjurous apothegms clitoral apomixis
Exude emote surrogate extrapolation
Astral projection littoral hypotaxis
Kinetic supremacy homogeneity gravitation
Coercible coalescent cohesion dexterities
Adjunct conjunction conjecture acuity
Platonic pragmatic prosaic austerities
Extemporaneous impromptu innuendo fortuity
Propinquity habitation harbinger spectra
Perplexing paradox tenacity rostra
Intensely cogitational abstract mantra
Penumbral exigency , umbrage per contra
Theoretical incursion grandiloquent ne plus ultra
Exogamy of homoplasy sic itur ad astra
Quiescent serendipity surreal anestra
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
Ultra Violet magnetic field of high voltage adrenaline showers the streets like speeding sports cars.
It's a rare occurrence of unregulated foreign madness.
I felt my inner chambers open and through them I explored my city in a new fashion.
Pulsating skies and electronica vibes.
Golden halos fall all around and the people, all friendly faces, liberated from their steel rooms.
I can hear the cries in the air.
A step closer, a heart willing to beat louder. A flower courageous enough to grow within the industrial tombs of the living dead. A divine light is what is lighting their way out of miserable decay.
- C.Ek
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
Walking through a field,
Bountiful with flowers,
Their aroma caring my senses.
Green grass in plenty,
The sun shining down,
The ultra violet rays lightly touching my skin.
With so much beauty to scan my eyes over,
I’m not entirely sure where to begin,
Within a few steps Im paralyzed.
What I see is absolute bliss,
A single lotus surrounded by wildflowers,
By roses and tulips.
I’m set back by the luck I have to come across this.
Unsure of what do first,
I stand back and gaze at the perfect and breathtaking natural beauty.
Yes there is a few broken leaves,
Yes there is other lotuses in the universe.
However, this lotus has come into my life.
At a time where im walking alone,
Where my mind is flooded by screams.
I decide to take a step closer,
And another,
Then another,
Till finally the lotus is within my reach.
The screams have ended,
In their place is a beautiful song being sung,
Overcame with joy I lean down and smell the lotus,
At that moment im sent through the galaxy,
Witnessing pure amazement,
Simple pleasure,
My heart swells and my throat tightens.
I feel a single tear leaving my eye.
I begin spending moment after moment admiring the lotus,
My eyes transfixed upon it,
I forget im even in a field surrounded by other wild growth.
Then I notice the sunset,
The moonlight shining upon the lotus,
Revealing that within its broken leaves there is light and color.
I’m entranced.
I reach out to touch the lotus
But stop.
I realize I cannot pick this flower for it would stop growing.
Instead I go day after day,
Watering and caring for it.
Watching it grow,
Watching it become more gorgeous by the minute.
With every hour spent my happiness grows.
With every second passing,
It’s my heart I surrender for the lotus to hold.
Several years pass,
Still I visit this magical field,
Still I care for and water the lotus.
Learning patience,
Gaining strength.
This lotus is conforming me into a better man.
I’m growing older now and soon my life will end.
When that time comes I hope to be buried in that flowery field.
Next to the lotus ive surrendered my soul to yield.
With hopes that I can spend forever with it by my side,
Sprouting into something as blissful and breathtaking as the lotus.
To my lotus, for taking my heart.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
She was my lover all night
sensual perfection we held each other tight
We eloped into our anechoic room
Escaping the world I was her groom
I kissed her slender feet and hands
The only thing wrong she was married to another man
Honeymoon in Singapore
It was unplanned but meant to be
I wonder if she still remembers me?
Housewife and mother of two
Sinful synchronicity rendezvous
On vacation when we met
Our lust was hot and so very wet
We kissed and bared our souls
Hard and soft in loves loft we rolled...
Honeymoon in Singapore
His wife was my bride tonight
we both cried in the morning light
We were one in flesh she took off her wedding dress in wanton caress
The only thing wrong she was married to another man!
Honeymoon in Singapore
It was unplanned but meant to be
I wonder if she still remembers me?
True story of a *** lustful night with a pretty married ultra exotic Chinese-Filipina girl in Singapore
Oct. 2009
Singapore is the microcosm of urban perfection
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
us humans haven't quite cleaned up
everyday we send nasty chemicals spiraling up
which invariably stuffs the ozone layer up
our polluting of this rim of protection
continually goes on we're not holding the pollutants in retention
which shows we're damaging its convention
there needs to be more
innovative ideas developed
to subdue the ***** air
which we humans
keep overly producing
here and everywhere
so as the ultra violet streams
don't not become too extreme
they do irreparable harm
and give cause for alarm
we humans have an obligation
to our planet's ozone cover
by not sullying its protective sheath
with tons of polluting smother
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
When I was thirteen, I had a running coach.
He was short, lean, and muscular.
An Italian man
with a whistle hanging around his neck,
farmer's tan, and below his black widow's peak
sat silver aviators, propped upon his shiny beak.
I ran miles and miles a day, but,
no matter how much I'd run
he never followed. He always trusted me to
stride my roads and lift my knees high
during the kick at the end of the races
against myself.
"If you want to run
you gotta drop that baggage," he'd laugh
between sips from his water bottle
as he towered over little me,
panting and red. We both stood
tall under the blazing sun.
I couldn't comprehend exactly what he meant,
I mean, I told him,
"I have ultra-light, top-of-the-line shoes,
compression shorts and athletic toes,
a hairless chest for maximum speed,
sweat running rivers down my spine,
legs that never exhaust, and,
above all, Coach,
a spirit that can move mountains." His response,
silence and a smirk.
Who was he to teach me about running?
"You're weighing yourself down boy,
you gotta drop that baggage."
It was his motto for me
every time my time would increase,
because, you see, when running,
increase is bad. Except for hills.
I can still hear his voice in my head,
"Uphill, increase exertion."
He never ran with me, he just told me to go.
He showed me the route and I did as expected,
six days a week, sometimes three miles, sometimes ten,
day after day, again and again,
shoulders hunched and me out of breath,
"runners high," they called it.
I hated running, I hated my coach,
I didn't understand why
anyone would want run to anywhere.
Not now. Now, I love it.
It has become my hobby, a specialty
for when one grows up,
your body is built for it, and your mind
has been ready to run since junior high.
It starts as a seedling, when you're barely able to walk,
and by the time your cardiovascular system
has been assaulted by packs of tobacco
and rolled marijuana, it blooms green.
That's when you realize:
Running is easy.
And coaching?
Don't even get me started on how easy that is.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 1:12 PM UTC
I want his look
not his favourite Ironman T-shirt
I'm not an Irongirl
I'm not an iron anything sort
I want him creases and all
not his “to infinity” golden band
it has the ring of something too definite
I want him here
“and beyond”
just how far
I'm not yet sure about
not his ultra clean pair
of New Balance sports shoes
I'm not the run around sort
wet trackies pants hot and loose
I want him caught off balance
bare footed on the grass
I want his look
and when he gives it
straight back
into my eyes
I know what...
I'll look away at the skies
and hope beyond hope
he'll interpret my act
ironman out my shyness
ring the changes I want
and run beneath my disguise
to find an orange not a lemon
only trouble is
I think he won't
because at this early stage
we don't have much in common
O ******
he's looking...
the sky's so bright!
like he's going to...
I squint!
blind!
eyes shut!
be just my...
I'm so silly!
.... dotage
huh! maybe I should try...
courage?
a comic character?
hypnotism?
an older age?
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
Being attacked En masse by zubat
Oh excuse me I meant Woobat
Send out my Rapidash
Its a pity it knows flash
I leave a trail of Pokes behind
This is what happens when you grind
Saving up for an expert belt with a buckle
So i can give it to my shuckle
I run into a snorlax
Its ok i relax
I have 99 ultra *****
And one good Stalls
Catch him in no time
Ran into a female Mister Mime
Freaked out i back up into little caterpie
But I already have a butterfree
Spray some repel
Avoid the weepingbell
Make it back to pallet town
Gary and i ready to throw down
Mar 16, 2011
Mar 16, 2011 at 1:12 PM UTC
Dull does not become me, pale, monotonous I laugh at, for they never defined me.
A world in black and white would cause me to shrivel up and die for I am as bright as the brightest butterfly.
The little girl inside me screams to show off the colors that make a girl girly, a woman a woman.
The color pink is my absolute favorite, it brings out the very essence of who I have become.
The little girl who loved pink candy cane, pink bubblicious bubble gum which made the biggest pink bubbles no one could miss.
Pink skirts, pink shorts, and my dazzling pink sunglasses made me look like a princess from another era.
The sheer color of pink, and the flamboyance nature that it adorns with that dazzling ray of different shades.
The world would be a simpler place if colors were lighter for it would bring about so much laughter.
A night on the town and ready to make a splash is what it's about.
How about a blue dress and what accessories could I wear to make me look so debonair?
I got it, what goes with blue? Why pink is a good mix. Pink pumps, pink bracelets would catch someone's eye.
Definitely not blah looking, more like dazzle, razzle superstar in the making.
The trees are green and that's amazing, the clouds are white and that's also amazing.
The earth is brown, the sea is blue but without a dash of rose pink, ruby pink, ultra pink and creamy pink tell me where would we be?
In a world lacking in fashion, pizazz, creativity, no future insight to vanity.
We need flair and dramatics, fashionistas in our market and I propose to get us started.
We need to paint the town and make it look oh so **** Pinktastic.
May 28, 2020
May 28, 2020 at 11:07 AM UTC
Yeah it's one shot one ****
Plottin' against my enemies will soon to be killed
Bullets feedin' ya last meal
Dope rhymes sedatin' like pharmacy pills
Since hataz got no chill heads I'll drill now you leakin' out like oil spills
Or a radiator angelic caters none could create a
Flows nasty as mine poppin' a multiplicity of shells I'm one of a kind
Thoughts intertwined
****** into a demons intervention contenders in suspension from the soul lynching
Caught in the realms of heaven and hell & you can smell
The ashes burning fermentin'
time runnin' slower than molasses
My murders be classic enemies dramatic causin' static
Shoot more than Bird combined with Magic
Workin' my Johnson on the tracks tonsils sittin' as a hip hop consul underground magul
**** longer than Repunzels hair follicles
Cookin' up sigils into a *** of gold no rainbow snortin' sir nose
D'void of Funk rattlin' the earth from the bass in my trunk blazin' skunks
Abraxas I'm embracin' one of my goetias when facin' ain't no replacin'
Fools givin' chase
and to tastes of demonic faces
My flows replenish like **** laces
Blunts turn into ashes dump it out on the masses
Epidemic mase deaden your pace hazardous like toxic waste
Adversaries don't wanna face
Off like Nicolas to Travolta livin' in an ultra violent culture
Cleatin' into ya flesh I be the stalkin' Vulture mulchin' ya
'til ya
A dissembled particle blank photo in the article from curvin' emcees with my surgical
lyrical sickle stare into ya eyes as the blood trickles
Down ya body you easily brickled rhymes artificial
My soul sour as a pickle no tickles
Could move me or influence thee my legacy
Lay cinematography like A. Hitchcock in the 50s huh
Ya soon to be a death reel for thrills
Rememeber
All I need is one shot one **** forreal!!!!
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
remember...
when you were young,
very young,
recently untethered from
proximal parental strings...
that liberated freshman
rushing into a .... cave
of independent studies
and uninhibited sexuality...
that mulligan phase
of impulse and irrationality
and...yes...experimentation...
of wide-eyed science interns with
mother's cheeks, daddy's visa
and the best animal-testing lab
on the planet...
with live uncontrolled studies of sleep deprivation,
orgiastic tolerance, *** toxicity
and the effect of extreme jello-shooting
on graduation rates...
and, of course, the ultra-rad LUG/GUG philosophy,
the ultimate pregnancy-avoidance plan
guaranteed
or your STD back...
then you got a degree,
a real job,
and a surreal 5-figure
student loan balance...
or was it 6?
or maybe you just
dropped out
like
bill, steve or mark...
and started a revolution...
~ P
(7/21/2013)
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Once of a bride was I by a belle informed;
Who, on the very night of their honeymoon
Upon sighting her groom's dower, screamed
And would not let him in for his ***** boon,
Until she's taken thru the script the following
Morn by her parson's wife in cool counselling.
Many things in morals and etiquette do
Parents their children ever and anon teach
Except on this single unfolding issue
Will they falter to them plainly preach:
The act of marriage in its detailed image,
Cause it's found nay on their nurturing page.
An African mother will quiver her girl to lecture,
For instance, in the subject under review,
But will leave it to the Omniscient Nature
To instruct her like cry to a curlew.
So the bride's mom will not to her say:
This is how you should roll in the hay.
Neither will a father his son likewise tell
Explicitly of this duty--this too I know--
How to make his led-to-the-altar angel
Fly on cloud nine during their maiden show.
My pa never me of this nuptial scene told,
How in bed my lady I should stylishly hold.
Yet instinct, that great ancient teacher,
The green Adam and ****** Eve taught
On man's debut moment of ecstasy ever,
And did lead him to her piquant spot,
Whilst one another they caressed for affection,
Premiering for all couples conjugal copulation.
And the animals who do not the wisdom
Of man have, even every diminutive creature,
How each by divine smarts in their kingdom--
Like the fish in the sea of their rapture--
Do with themselves mate with none
Giving them tutorials nor showing them ****
To close this up where it had first started:
The *iyawo after the pending deed was done,
As it should betwixt man and wife, delighted
Was and with glowing warmth did thence burn
In the hearth of her *ókò with ultra joy,
Who at the beginning of performance was coy.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
She remembers the day the stick turned blue, “wow for **** up the spout”
He remembers her smile when she told him. Smile, really?
Then there was telling her parents, “okay we'll make this work”
Then there was telling his parents, “You threw your scholarship away for this ***** you're a dumb ***
She remembers the morning sickness
He remembers the hangovers
She felt warm inside when he said it was her choice
He felt like dying when she said she was keeping it
She framed the first ultra sound photo
He deleted his Myspace page
She noticed the day she started showing
The same day he noticed the legs on the waitress
She was snickered at behind locker doors
He quit the team
Her mom brought home baby shoes
His mom circled the classifieds
She got peanut butter cravings
He got hand gun cravings
It's a girl
It's a girl
She remembers finally talking again after four months
He remembers being cornered after 3rd period
She wanted to pick names
He wanted to hang up
She remembers their second first date
He remembers how nice she was
This could really work please kiss me goodnight
We'll see how this goes please don't kiss me
The doctors say the shadow on the ultra sound could be nothing
What if the thing on the picture is something
She prays for the health of Amelia
He begs God to do something about this
They have such a bright future ahead
He had such a bright future ahead
She goes to Goodwill for maternity clothes
He rings her up at the cash register with a kiss
She remembers buying baby clothes at the mall
He remembers how cute the onesies were
She sees him smile
Amelia...good name
She's due next week
He packs his cleats to make room for the crib
She packs to move into his house
His dad packs for a motel
She's still craving peanut butter
He's still craving the waitress
She ate peanut butter
He ate the waitress
She's in labour
He's in traffic
Hold my hand
Ouch...Okay breathe honey...ouch
There's no crying
Nice, quiet baby
Amelia's dead
I'm not a father
She cries into her shirt
He leaves the hospital
She cries into the onesies
He returns the crib to Wal Mart
She burns the ultra sound photos
He grabs his cleats
She gets a hair cut
He quits his job
She returns the diapers and shower gifts
His new Myspace says “single”
She shops for a prom dress
The waitress finds out he's seventeen
Her mom hugs her as she falls asleep
His dad pats him on the back after wind sprints
She can't stop starring at him during prom
He wonders if she went to prom
She writes Amelia in bubble letters on a piece of paper she hangs on her wall a reminder of what's important
He buys a Costco pack of condoms and tacks one to the wall a reminder of what's important
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 10:17 AM UTC
The question,
within its very core nature ..
almost solely hinges around
our own deeply hidden,
internal self-betrayal:
In the creatively-covered up alliances
we make..
In order to prop up, the parts of us
that refuse to respond in any growing,
self-sacrificing way, that would lead
to the true growth of change.
And so.. within our own,
internally/externally-manufactured,
form of consent, comes
a smile-washed, deep contempt
for anything, and everything
that would (or could) expose
Just how deeply we have
sold ourselves out
through the ultra-fine art,
of alliance.
And like a lamb to the slaughter
are those who choose to unknowingly
(or with agenda-based blinders)
Love, defend, and support
those who use such an alliance
to prop themselves up,
from falling over.
But the Universe..
within its deep ache for us--
It never stops asking of us
the Primal question
We can respond through
the suffering of the self
(leading to true growth and change)
Or make alliance with Death
as a way of short-cutting the answer.
#
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 1:22 PM UTC
A head
A giant boney mass
Many mouths and eyes
thoroughly babbling,
whatever,
etc.
Snapping and blinking
Mouths Melded together on this ultra cranium
Yapping on and on
On and on and on
Yellowed teeth and bedazzled grills
Botnet mods and crop tools
The most dastardly of all -
An infinite production of fuzzy,
Buzzing noise blobs.
And Attempts to add me
To its mass connection-collection head
Leave me offended.
"What's on your mind?"
Go away.
You ******* freakazoid.
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 3:26 PM UTC
When I was 15, I wouldn’t have believed you
if you told me all of this about constant lament
in a Red painted Animal House of scapegoats
that I’ve yet to see
it’s
streets of beige
it’s
fast food bad food no food spilled milk or beer
it’s
the South no the East maybe West probably North
it’s
in the air the water the meat there’s just too much heat to breathe or hold a job
it’s
hourly wages and daily commutes of gypsy peddlers in a town I’ve never been to
it’s
the cigarettes or nicotine my useless spleen filtering things I should never inhale or drink
it’s
divorce rates leading to ***** flicks c-sections finding acquaintances on monitors after dark only able to generate laughter over years of tears
it’s
women
it’s
pain
it’s
the migraines we get when we're waiting on the rain to paint the beige streets bronze
it’s
rolling trees metal trucks frozen lakes lumber jacks and ice fishing
it's
the anxiety of right wrong bad good all grey in the sunshine without you
it’s
the words of times you said meaning more to me than it ever could to you
it’s
the colossus of Wall St. overbearing my own suit and tie un-ironed or cared for but necessary none the less
it’s
CCTV the fight for power Government foreign travelers or terrorists Project Paper clip MK Ultra Plum Island persuasion propaganda Paul Wolfowitz
it’s
who governs what you can afford when you sit tattered on a curb after earning another mans bread
it’s
what has or has not been said 7 times or none that still lingers on the grass out front of home or house
it’s
no matter how big you are you still answer a toy phone handed to you by a two year old
it’s
the tears of Alexander when he realized there were no more worlds to conquer
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
I'm long overdue thanking
The heroes of my youth.
Thank you Superboy
For teaching me how
To read plot and character
And dialogue.
Your comics
Brought phonics
Alive.
Thank you Bouncing Boy
For being somewhat chubby,
And teaching me
Patience and understanding
Of those not quite the
Shape of me.
Thank you Mon El and Ultra Boy
For helping me focus
On one strength at a time;
I've held my
Weaknesses back from
Overpowering me.
Thank you Lightning Lad
For teaching me that
Accidents happen;
I can move on,
Learn and be stronger.
Thank you Karate Kid
For teaching me that
An average boy,
Through practice and determination
Can achieve what
I dreamt.
Thank you Cosmic Boy
For teaching me to channel
My energy, work with forces
Greater than myself,
And maintain control.
Thank you Chameleon Boy
For the lesson on
Adaptability and attitude
Adjustment.
Thank you Colossal Boy
For making it resoundingly clear
That stature and success are fleeting.
One always returns to
The one before.
Thank you Invisible Kid
For teaching me that I
Will not always go unnoticed
In an opaque world.
Thank you Brainiac 5
For teaching me the importance
Of education and life-long learning.
Thank you Sun Boy
For teaching me to
Shine and look my best,
But never forget
What's inside is brighter still.
Thank you Elastic Lad, Jimmy Olsen,
Who taught me that a loner, a cub,
A red-headed, freckled-faced boy
Could stretch himself,
Can walk with Heroes.
Thank you Shrinking Violet,
Saturn Girl, Phantom Girl,
Lightning Lass, and Supergirl
For all the shapliness
And upskirts
A young lad needs;
You saved ***** Lad
From a life of celibacy
In a Jesuit Seminary.
A Big Thanks!
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
We are the disconnect community.
We think, therefore we are.
We blink, therefor we see the
ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
A personal "connection-collection" of mine.
500 pieces of redefining human identity as bees in a hive.
Buzzing. Whirring. Chatting.
A world can be displayed on a single screen
of ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
All tuned in.
*All turning into hive minded creatures.
Degeneration at it's best.
For the most advanced generation,
We are zombies disguised as cyborgs;
carrying our hearts literally out on our sleeves.
For home, I'm told, is where the heart is.
And though books say it's in our chests,
One look and tell you "Homepage" is handheld.
And with the world in the palm of your hand,
the rest comes fast, calm and easy.
Like breathing,
But without feeling.
Invisible networks bond the inner workings
Like an ultra-cranium.
Or a hive, dangling precariously over the valley.
Lives, carelessly unaware that a bow can break
when it forgets it's roots.
Like jumping in puddles in rubber boots.
The difference between what's easy and what's simple.
The little girl on Youtube who can't flip a page of a magaizine because all she know's are HD touch screens.
Learning to type before learning to write.
Obesity, skyrocketing to a sun we barely lay eyes on.
One by one, we stop hooking up, and get hooked up to the trending crazes.
Hang up. Telenophobics praised.
E-mail and texts.
Social skills wrecked.
Eye contact replaced with descontent looks.
Pirating crooks
Torenting video games, DVDs &books.;
The 25th of December is more for toys than the son of God.
You can't remember the last time you went fishing with your dad, because you've been too busy playing C.O.D.
Unplugged is savagery.
but escapism with a drug by any name is just as inhumane.
Just as fatal.
For all the blinking,
and thinking,
chattering,
babbling
500 redefined "friends",
Can you easily feel alive when it's more simple to call us dead?
Do you know all your neighbors names without checking online?
Can you understand relationships, as they were meant to be?*
We are the disconnect community.
Cut out "unity".
Leave the rest for our virtual home page address.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC