Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Thomas Newlove Oct 2016
The world needs a hero.
Someone who can steer us
In the right direction.

The world is ******,
Out of luck, divided by factions,
Borders, rules, laws and orders,
Created by selfish *****.
***** politicians.
Men who treat human beings like fractions. Corrupt.
The kind of over-the-top villains you read about in comic books.
Or maybe it came to be by the Almighty all-seeing ****.
Another dastardly, ******* who is as ridiculous as he sounds or the world looks.
Who decides who lives or dies like a dictator murdering for sport or kicks.
He (because it's always a "he") picks which child kicks the bucket
And which rich, white man gets the luck.

The world needs Batman.
Not a bad man with a bad plan
To rid the world of different colours, customs, looks.
We don't need several bland, blonde shades of white.
We need the Dark Knight.
Someone to fight and rid the Joker from his rise.
Someone to take back what was taken, what they took.
Bad jokes everyday that make you choke
On the water that you **** as you watch the morning news.
A fish dangling on the media's hook.
You can't breathe but contradictorily you can't help but be amused
At the crazy things he's said or done.
The media controls our mind, our thoughts.
We've been bought by the capitalist system that we took
To be our salvation.
We need to look forward as one world, one nation
And fix all the massive cracks and little nooks.
And pray that when it's time he doesn't win.
And pray that the Earth doesn't reject it's kin,
By punishing the people who did it wrong.
We need to learn from our perpetual mistake song
And act before the world dies
When big business lies, and the waters rise,
And we continue to drive and live off burgers and meat pies.

We need a hero who can fix the mess
Who looks like Christian Bale or Adam West,
Who can fight for human rights and save the day,
And still have time for dinner by candlelight
With ladies without groping them for kicks
For not all men exclusively think with their *****.
Just the ones with big egos, small brains and smaller ******.

So we need action, we need a plan!
Some way to finally stick it to the Man.
A way to fix environmental disaster,
A way to feed the starving and the masses
Without death and destruction fattening our *****
And eating up the planet on a platter.
We need to find a way to cure disease
And stop the greedy, bring them to their knees
And act to put our collective minds at ease.

So what's my grand suggestion for this plan?
When you vote, you vote with what feels right
Not what's comfortable or written on a t-shirt -
At first it could be difficult and may hurt,
But it's essential for the future to be bright.
Look to the skies at every possible night,
And give the stars and clouds a thorough scan,
And when you find that eerie, striking, stark light
That issues the coming of a dark knight
Make sure you give your vote to Batman.
Bit of a rough beat-poem. I got the idea from a tweet that said: "Clowns terrorising the street. A real life billionaire villain running for president. We need you Batman"
ivory Jun 2010
Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking
Most likely considering the effortless exchange of our thoughts
It happens more than I let on noticed
Each hiding beneath the same shell with the illusion of invisibility
Contradictorily with razorsharp X-ray vision
I see right through you and you see right through me
The most introverted extroverts and pessimistic love addicts
Sometimes it feels as if we are looking at a mirror and there appears the other
As if we are the same person
And if I changed a perspective
Would yours shift as well?
It is these wonderful similarities that make us magnetic
And our bipolar tendencies that make me objectively view the potential
Our evolution is stumbling when we are wearing such armor on our hearts
What if my confusion is brought on by yours?
Why are we so scared?
The answer to that would probably be the same as mine
But we are both too stubborn
To surrender.
© AlyssiaAnderson

Awkward reactions encouraged.
Alex Teng Apr 2019
I'm sorry for being me
I thought we connect idealistically
I thought you will act differently ,
But apparently,
You don't see what I see.

I'm sorry for letting you be,
To not be able see who you are to me
To think that I will act cowardly,
And to see me as ordinary.

All I am looking for is tranquility,
Unfortunately,
You are trying to achieve spiritually,
But let me tell you blatantly,
You aren't that different from me.

You told me,
You need the sense of security,
And the sense of certainty,
But my darling,
You aren't wiling to dive deeply.

Tying a knot does not provide security,
Nor does it ensure certainty,
I failed as a lover,
Because you didn't realize,
what's reality.

If all I am looking for is just to be *****,
I won't come up with all the activity,
I won't be able to make you cry softly,
Or even to share my thoughts to you
genuinely.

The fact that you felt guilty,
To love comfortably,
Believe me,
That hurts me.

So here I am telling you directly,
I couldn't be with you in this journey,
Cause it's a pain for me to see,
You suffer and torture yourself mentally.

I will never be who you want me to be,
Because we were all designed differently,
You said I treated you disrespectfully,
Without realizing my insecurity.

I'll leave for now so that you see,
I am not acting contradictorily,
I am just being me.


But please,
blame it on me.
She is a caregiver.
She who gives complete care is she whose care is completely given -
So much care to give yet none remains for herself.

Built 6 ft. tall she carries:
A Rolleiflex 3.5T,
A phony french accent
And an enigmatical past.

Ms Mayer.

As her lens soaks up the quintessence of normality in
A diluted Chicago suburb or
The emphatic streets of Manhattan;
She was wired to observe.
Her nature, craving to sustain unrepeatable moments.
Instances so human,
A simple photograph just isn’t quite enough
To capture them.

V. Meyer.

She relies unwaveringly on an object whose sole purpose is to
Look through,
To surpass.
But to her it acts contradictorily as
A barrier,
A rationalized blindness.

An outside eye peering into the lives of others
But never within herself.
She is the lady who would rather look through a lens than into a mirror
Because her refracted self is slightly easier confronted than that reflected.

Vivian Maier.
Ruled his hare'm
nsync with trumpeting Donald Duck,
(loud enough to arouse Daisy),
the former cartoon character,
a pensive searing black kind Roebuck
heir to a fortune hauling trash and *******,

whereby dust bunnies repurposed
into environmentally friendly
electric kool aid acid tested batteries
powering many an electric truck,
which wolfed, kick/jump started
and guzzled down
synthesized reconstituted quality product.

An atypical genre I did tender
wherein I nestled inside warren
peaceful nested litter,
impossible mission fat chance
otherwise odds being slender,
not me mien tubby an offender
courtesy yours truly a heterosexual,
he considers himself thoroughly
one hundred percent male gender.

Anyway Harold's velvet teen,
fluff filled, carrot topped, R2D2
and humanoid C-P3O constituted two
mottled robots quasi manned motley crew,
where sniffling nose appeared blue
then twitched as if affected with
Bugs Bunny syndrome
also known as Oryctolagus cuniculus flu
asking What's up doc
ready to sneeze atchew
parallels to doe eyed Jewish herd -

mentality and sympathy for the devil
whose hooded guise did accrue
(to figurative rolling stone)
quite a reputation toasting with l'chaim
Herr heralded as germane
Semitic, laconic and genetic brew
stirring demagogue foremost
thru arduous peer review
of course primarily
commingling with ******* bunnies, singing
acapella like foo fighting goo goo
dolls, who blithely balleted,

be bopped, formed a choo choo,
bunny hopped, and
followed bunny trail
toward their hidden
underground treasured slew
of carrot stocked burrow
affecting captivating family
portrait, sans Leporidae, queue
essentially creating live floppy hoo
chee MOMA actionable

art, viz chiaroscuro,
though if his highness Harold
displeased with performance with Urdu
subtitles hissed, growled, foot stomped...
exhibiting cry and hue
threatened troupe, albeit playfully
tubby rabbit stew
otherwise he purred,
hummed, and clucked
contradictorily all the

while scrunching furry furrow
cuz the codas of Peter
Rabbit the Great did eschew
excessive helpings of
soft purr rayed coo coo
wing snapchatting accompanied
soft as butterfly effect
across webbed wide world flew
with faux paw gestures
being lovey dovey gentle foo foo

affectionate grand poobah
versus parochial orthodox pew
yule hating as much
as being sent to Peru
particularly match chew pitch chew,
where convincing reincarnation
of Edward Roscoe Murrow
aired broadcast Run Rabbit Run
intended for **** sexually repressed updike
such as yours truly, hence obviously
above reasonable rhyme not true.
spry buck analogous to energizing bunny
jump/kickstarted procreation ruckus.

Home on the range
cacophony quite absurd
******* Bunny herd
and felt ingratiatingly inured,
nevertheless colony or nest
of doe eyed demoiselles
stewed over their
kit and caboodle being cannibalized
gourmet chef “coney” or “lapin”  
delicacy the magic word.

Ruled his hare'm
nsync with trumpeting Donald Duck,
(loud enough to arouse Daisy),
the former cartoon character,
a pensive searing black kind Roebuck
hare to a fortune hauling trash and *******,

whereby dust bunnies repurposed
into environmentally friendly
electric kool aid acid tested batteries
powering many an electric truck,
which wolfed, kick/jump started
and guzzled down
synthesized reconstituted quality kosher product.

An atypical genre I did tender
wherein I nestled inside warren
peaceful nested litter,
impossible mission fat chance
otherwise odds being slender,
not me mien tubby an offender
courtesy yours truly a heterosexual,
he considers himself thoroughly
one hundred percent male gender.

Anyway Harold's velvet teen,
fluff filled, carrot topped, R2D2
and humanoid C-P3O constituted two
mottled robots quasi manned motley crew,
where sniffling nose appeared blue
then twitched as if affected with
Bugs Bunny syndrome
also known as Oryctolagus cuniculus flu
asking What's up doc
ready to sneeze atchew
parallels to doe eyed Jewish herd -

mentality and sympathy for the devil
whose hooded guise did accrue
(to figurative rolling stone)
quite a reputation toasting with l'chaim
Herr heralded as germane
Semitic, laconic and genetic brew
stirring demagogue foremost
thru arduous peer review
of course primarily
commingling with ******* bunnies, singing
acapella like foo fighting goo goo
dolls, who blithely balleted,

be bopped, formed a choo choo,
bunny hopped, and
followed bunny trail
toward their hidden
underground treasured slew
of carrot stocked burrow
affecting captivating family
portrait, sans Leporidae, queue
essentially creating live floppy hoo
chee MOMA actionable

art, viz chiaroscuro,
though if his highness Harold
displeased with performance with Urdu
subtitles hissed, growled, foot stomped...
exhibiting cry and hue
threatened troupe, albeit playfully
tubby rabbit stew
otherwise he purred,
hummed, and clucked
contradictorily all the

while scrunching furry furrow
cuz the codas of Peter
Rabbit the Great did eschew
excessive helpings of
soft purr rayed coo coo
wing snapchatting accompanied
soft as butterfly effect
across webbed wide world flew
with faux paw gestures
being lovey dovey gentle foo foo

affectionate grand poobah
versus parochial orthodox pew
yule hating as much
as being sent to Peru
particularly match chew pitch chew,
where convincing reincarnation
of Edward Roscoe Murrow
aired broadcast Run Rabbit Run
intended for **** sexually repressed updike
such as yours truly, hence obviously
above reasonable rhyme not true.
For I am only a coriander seed
Would it be appropriate of me
To believe contradictorily
That what is appropriate
Appropriation must agree
If after all a waterfall falls
And the sound resounds
Until it's still, echoing
Within and all around me

— The End —