Friday, April 8, 2011

Retired Superhero's wear capes to cover scars

Turbulent pendulum,

Swings a violent rhythm,
Over flowing gates of snow capped escapades,

Upon unnamed Kingdoms you once found for me,

Random trifling

Amongst visions scarred
Prosthetic penance broken by the stars

Stalling like a ragged bull,
Eight seconds before tomorrow,

Nine seconds arriving much too late,
As we live within a survival state,

Obnoxious fumes and toxicological taxidermy
Built on pressure pins dying to take flight,

And into severed regions we must go,
To the valley, for the show,

Whooping cough the entire ride,

Tick, Tick, Tick, a little something not so right,

Convince the saint of the sinner’s rites,
Blasphemous nameless soul,

Bartering still with the ragged man,
Who thinks he’s the king of these here streets,

Tock, Tock, Tock, blast, just my luck, it was a bomb, getting ready to go off, 
Side kick wounded by the nova down the street,

Back half alley, dark and old school,
Cape still covered in soot and booze,

What vigilante’s retired today must do,
Battle thugs for a cup of gruel,

Drown in the terror that eats from inside,

It feels like an appropriate interlude,

To mention our sponsors,
To bring this home,

Bantered visions

Of shattered men,
A Lost hero’s body in an unmarked tomb,

Unmasking the villain
Just feels uptight,

When the untold autonomy
Won’t be found,

Too proud to disconnect,

It’s all so blinding,
When you’ve run adrift,

A worn out icon,
Battling the demonization of our culture,

Upholding truth in a land of myth,
Evangelizing hope amidst corrupt society

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