Archive for the ‘heroes’ Category

My Pawn Shop Father

Posted: November 28, 2014 in family, heroes, nostalgia

Pawn shop visitor
Price inquisitor
My dad likes to shop around
Like a junkyard hawk
Always looking for gadgets
A hobbyist by habit
A record collector
Guitar amp inspector

Fixing up the house
Working on the garden
Last jobs unfinished
But the next one is starting

Pawn shop customer
Price think then confer
Little things to fill space
Little tools just in case
Like the notepad in his pocket
Names jotted down not forgotten
A record collector
Guitar amp inspector

 

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Drink coffee in the morning trying to shore in my head
cause it’s like a beach full of dead whales the scale
of all my money problems solved with another
expensive drug cleanse only Benzedrine enema
put it in me pull it out and shout about the clout
of the honest man who drops his zen in the penny puddles
at the bottom of the wish fountain in the middle of the mall
that trickles and calls and he heeds every whisper
makes a creed of all the winters dressed up in fifty layers
a misty slayer, a player of games best left to the drifting
star readers, car breeders, robots stuck in factories
baby stuck in back store storage rooms under walls of boxes
like foxes in the foxhole, bought you like the money
un-ignorable, isn’t that Shirley Temple look alike adorable?

Sucking like a vampire stuck in a little girls body
player piano in the lobby, dead bodies in room 319
she might be the bite in the lightning that lit the monster
but a porcelain skin haunts her and I haunt my straw
and mirror, a bag I hold dear and then toss out
scratch the moss off my chin
wonder what philosophers box I’m in?
who’s cave metaphor? who’s puppet-show?
I bet it’s a real puzzler galore as I shudder and abhore
the picture of the actress of the role of the character
of the myth of the monster of the fire-lit horror story
told around the fire-pit to the child who grows an urge
that shows a word that opens a nerve and strikes an empire
like a tinderbox into a pile of ashes with the rain
of half burnt cash and black masks and shotgun blasts
and back alleys turn into plague deathbed marry-go-round
and bird faces

horses too big for the rat races, give me a saddle
for a squirrel and I’ll hurry over as your world whirls
around, a mobile over a monkey dressed up as a savior
blessed by three apes stressed out on the path
of the thirteen point star
the worst creep turned tarot card
the west wind, the dragons tooth
this mess has been my coffee
and smoke dragging me though untruth
and stop me if you know this one
cause that’s no fun, repetition happens enough in this city
we don’t need poets spewing visions
stolen from television or internet collisions of lies
and derision, cries of precision
black magic a curse religion

With a Jesus stuck in the girl child vampire body
sucking on mommy, mother Mary in blue
shooting ice blasts like Mr.Freeze
believe Joseph is the new Batman Alfred is Moses
the Joker is the fallen angel who tipped the city over
and Superman stands on the mountain counting
the sins of humans on the flaps of his cape
in the wind spending ten endless winters
in the fortress of solitude like immortal god flown
altitude, till Earth looks like a blue snow globe shaken
by the child that became a god that shames us all
that blamed the fallen that taught us and caught us
in a web of make-up, white face painting the bruises
the brand new loose tooth fresh under the pillow
stuffed with death and the mummy’s last breath…

A. C. P. M. F.

Posted: November 14, 2013 in apocalyptic, heroes, politics, spiritual
Tags:

I shouldn’t be writing this
I shouldn’t be saying this-
But lately I feel my internet
connection is dangerous-

Looking at the state of things
feel like it’s led to doom-
So I start to blog
the revolution from my bedroom-

A spiritual journey
in contact with aliens-
Sometimes it feels
like a seance inside my cranium-

Ripping through reality
like a tear soaked tissue-
A world where a messiah complex
is a mental health issue-

So I ask what kind
of world is this to live in?
Don’t think it can’t change
every change has a beginning-

Cause I’m seeing the matrix
the fabric of zeroes-
Dreaming my friends are
the next centuries superheroes-

In the post-economy
the post-democracy-
We will choose our leaders
by winning the lottery-

You might say I’m drug addled
you may claim my brain is sick-
Just because I entertain
a program of eugenics-

Sterilize the water
re-educate the next-gen-
Don’t give them pessimism
but a reflection-

Don’t shoot down the efforts
of a group of dedicated minds-
Even if we don’t reap the benefits
in our own lives-

Because change is inevitable
change is occurring-
While the pop stars and media
moguls keep discouraging-

The pain and suffering will
reach a critical mass-
Then the new children
will shake off the shackles of the past-

So join up in arms
holding hands instead of weapons-
As reincarnated spirit gods
with a thousand love lessons-

We can stop the bullying
and we can stop the bullets-
All it takes is a passion
and learning to control it-

Don’t tell me the human body
is limited by science-
That’s just a hegemonic ideology
to keep usĀ  compliant-

Cause when the people start to wake up
and listen to the skies-
The old structures will crumble
right before our eyes-

ANARCHY
CHAOS
PEACE
MAGIC
FREEDOM!

 

One Hundred Heroes Blog Day

Posted: March 14, 2013 in childhood, heroes
Tags: ,

If we upload the cloud…

WTF happens to the fame sparkle?

Does the spotlight dim?

Or does the lost son build a bigger mech camp?

Gather at a drop point,

or stay headphones and sharpie scrap your bedroom?

Conquer the bored Kingdom!

Become the avatar admiral.

I leave a wake of superhero backpacks,

My tin zombie lunch bag.

How did the heroes get away?

Aren’t our eyes tight enough to keep them in!

How can tear pillows stay fluffy,

Plastics treasures, piles and bins,

One single finger,

Ends up in the mouth…

Kill the germ giants!