Four characters make the fantastic team,
after cosmic rays exposure in the outer space
on an experimental probing mission,
each member acquires unique prodigious abilities.
Fantastic Reed, the leader, a virtuoso scientist
and a shape-shifter intellectual strategist,
his wife Sue, with empowered invisibility weaves
force-fields as formidable defense asset.
Her younger hot-headed brother, Johnny, the human torch,
turns into flame and a blaze in flight.
Reed’s best friend, Ben, the thing, a mutated rock-skinned
superhuman monstrous powerhouse with a tender heart.
The Fantastic Four's adventures involve
exploration of the different spatial aspects,
roaming with fortitude through dimensions,
in the uncharted regions of the universe,
from the Negative Zone to the stellar space,
facing and dealing with cosmic and evil threats,
as a family team, dynamic albeit dysfunctional,
amalgamated by interpersonal relationship and solidarity.
An iconic and long-term segment of Marvel comics,
its impact extending beyond comics into other storylines,
The Fantastic Four are more than superheroes,
they are the first family of the Marvel Universe.
.
Have you
read where
In The Bible is written
Jesus called fisherman, come
They were all busy fishing
So many different temper a ments
Peter fast, quick to anger, and to disappoint ment
John also hot-headed called Boanerges by Jesus and
Bartholomew who had deep thoughts, trustworthy Jesus knew
So different were they, as are all believers
But loved so loved loved
With His agape love as no man can love
unconditional love that last forever
F o r e v e r
Meet Tweedle Dum and Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they lived in a tree
Way up high on the upper most branch
Not afraid of heights but why take a chance
I fail to see why they're living up there
They don't have a bed, they don't have a chair
Must be uncomfortable and hard on the bum
Hope they're not bothered by splinters, by gum
These guys are strange, they're nincompoops
They've never liked living in community groups
Independent old souls most all of their lives
Some call 'em snobby, these guys they deride
Society is made up of all different trolls
Some are hot headed with holes in their souls
Some are real happy, like those guys the best
Sure happy I got that stuff off of my chest
Meet Tweedle Dum and old Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
If you want my opinion and very sage advice
Get the hell down I won't tell you twice
The magazine cover page had a picture
Strange,
Out of the norm.
All those expositions of creative writing
are not pure and divine, nor sober as well.
A hypothetical extravaganza of law-breaker laws.
There is no validity of empty or full glass
No chance of any logical input , there.
Breaking that glass introduces the possibility
Ultimate materialization of the ulterior climax
Little to do with a softer pencil mark
No way to erase that either.
Permanent stains, long-lasting, durable.
Sophist hallucination of a strange life
One cannot deny anything through escapism
Thinking aloud, Thinking a lot.
But then, why me?
I am just nobody
With a sky darkened with ages of improbable fall out.
Perhaps, there is not much left
But to be red through emotions,
red like blood. Red, a hot-headed color.
My meager plate gets lost with
innumerable calculations of priorities...
and the room floor with hypothetical extenuations
everything, everywhere.
A series of happenings of world with no far-reaching continuity
A groaning pain of a hopeless night, and a day too.
Thinking aloud, thinking a lot.
I am numb…
Can’t you see?
I hate you so much,
Please set me free…
Things are different now,
I’m just being me…
I want some peace,
Within me…
I want some rest,
Near the sea…
Where I can dip my body
Skinny dipping
I want thee
To savor the splash
Through nudity...
Hot headed and hot body
I need the sea to calm me
I want to ease
These feelings from me
From the painful memory...
Please, please hatred, let me go
Freed me from your woe
I want now to go on
I want another love to last long…
Every single time we fight, the honesty seems to kill him,
He would rather turn his back to it than to humbly admit them,
He will search up every justifiable cause to make him look like the victim,
And then takes absolutely no responsibility for his actions when they hit him,
When out of love the truth comes out, he points his finger to blame,
As if I stole something precious to him, but he forgets he gave it away,
And then I sit and ponder, why in the world he would give his heart to me,
If when every time I tell him the truth to protect him, than I'm the enemy,
Can't he see what it is he's doing as he throws this love away,
And yet every time he's down in the dumps, he comes back to me again,
And every time he ventures back and wants an honest opinion,
I pray God gives me the words to say with an open heart and a ton of patience,
He's got a hot headed temper that drives me up The wall,
But I love him so much, I let him blow off steam, and wait for him to get calm,
I can stare straight into his eyes and say I love you any way,
Sometimes he even gets mad at me when I remain calm, but my love for him will never change.
I talked to God to find a way to maintain the beast in me.
Struggling to hold onto my last bit of decency.
Just looking for him to shed some light upon my darkest hour.
Wise words told me to find a higher power.
I'm laying low and can't achieve any highs.
Life puts me into predicaments
and I have no answers to why.
I go through the motions,
holding back all emotions,
until I feel like I'm floating.
Hot headed and absent minded.
Can't find common ground.
What I've found is a lack of love
and I can't feel or hear the sound.
Senseless because I'm numb.
Dumbfounded, but far from dumb.
I chose to believe in victory,
but I've lost all I've won.
I resort to the beast in me
and howl to the moon once the night has begun.
And all morality will be done once that fat lady has sung.
Dead end jobs,
We all got those,
The ones that hurt your feet
And the bottom of your souls,
Customers complain ***** and moan,
For items that have been long gone,
Get hot headed when their sizes are not in,
We have to stand and hold in our screams,
Keep our cool, when really we just want to say,
Hey why don't you walk in my shoes If it just for a day,
Just for a while maybe you'll see,
We got more problems then just your sizes,
Come on jump in my shoes, I be happy to do it for you,
To feel a day with no pain,
Maybe to smile truly stunning, then this faked smile,
So before you moan about all the silly stuff,
Take a look at the staff,
Some are hiding most pain,
In shed of moaning why don't you say,
Hey are you okay.
Written by Davina Browne
25 / 01 / 15
Judgement is a funny thing we all do.
It's been fashionable for centuries,
Yet still we scorn those we deem judgmental.
The great Shakespeare practiced in the humours
To entice his vast audience to judge,
Yet today it's a problem to spread lies;
To voyeur someone's traits for protection.
Today, someone who values the mellow
Is prude for excluding the hot-headed;
The knowledgeable, too proud for the clutz.
And so why do we scorn the judgmental
Yet hold writers to such a high esteem?
For in our writing, we are all critics;
In our writing, we are the judgmental.
Police brutality
should not be
ignored, but
exposed.
Excessive force
is being used on
innocent civilians
over petty ****.
Protect And Serve
they pledge, feels
more like a purge
instead.
Hot headed cops
above the law,
breaking the laws
they sworn to uphold.
Seems more like
thugs dressed in
uniforms.
I see them everyday
on cellphones driving,
parked at fire hydrants
on non emergency...
Going through red lights
without their sirens on,
with no care for human
lives at all.
Bullying, patronizing our
society, causing fear, and
bloodshed.
When will this nightmare
end ?
When will police brutality
come to an end ?
Written by: Poet Shi
Meet Tweedle Dum and Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
Way high up on the upper most branch
Not afraid of heights but why take a chance
I fail to see why they're living up there
They don't have a bed, they don't have a chair
Must be uncomfortable and hard on the bum
Hope they're not bothered by splinters, by gum
These guys are strange, they're nincompoops
They've never liked living in community groups
Independent old souls most all of their lives
Some call 'em snobby, these guys they deride
Society is made up of all different trolls
Some are hot headed with holes in their souls
Some are real happy, like those guys the best
Sure happy I got that stuff off of my chest
Meet Tweedle Dum and old Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
If you guys want my opinion and advice
Get the hell down here and I won't tell you twice
© Jack Ellison 2013
Hot headed asses
Filled with commie bastards
Social disorder in the brain insane with pain
As if socialized wandering wizards chicken gizzards
My breaking point to no return hero burn
In sweat caged fury everything scarey
Shaded pine in derision chasing after delusion
Fought back the pain with a smile on the dial
To frolic in the whisper almost a certain Hitler
Shadows filled up with asps darkened portals pitch black
Her memory haunts me to this day I pray
Shortness of breath in pitch blackened vest
Let me take the time to get some things off my chest then rest
As if a caged rat that was hiding in its tiny hole death stole
The memory of a whisper pitch black death hero's vest
No time to rest & watch any double feature
***** with the sneakers!
Sadness in the soul portal going viral as it seems
Lethal demise yet one word to the wise
In recourse blackened pilgrims with skulls & crossbones to prey on the dead!
Shall I compare thee to your mother's ****?
Thou aren’t more lovely, but more flatulent.
Rough winds do shake it; and bring on a farce
And all her clothes hath all too short a rent
Sometime too hot-headed of hell doth burn,
And often is the true nature exposed;
And every foul from fowl; my stomach churns,
By reason, or by nature's raging closed.
But thy infernal diet shall ne’er start
Nor gain possession of which now I grasp;
Nor shall we meet again; let’s stay apart,
When in eternal sounds the voice does rasp,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can cry,
So long lives this, and I bid thee goodbye.
Now I’m beginning to like me
There’s been no change in appearance
Something inside has been set free
An unusual experience
In the past I was hot-headed
Now I’m beginning to like me
Maybe it’s because I’m older
These things no longer upset me
Yes, I was stubborn as can be
And yes, I was “set in my ways”
Now I’m beginning to like me
Willing to try a different way
Not sure how things got turned around
No need to change that I could see
But I do like what has transpired
Now I’m beginning to like me
A Cowboy Is:
A cowboy is rough, rugged, willing to fight.
Accepts challenges from natural plight.
Fearless when danger passes his way.
Honorable when justice needs his stay
A hardworking, relentless, cattle driving man.
Eagerly pressing as hard as he can.
Hot headed at times insisting with flair.
Wielding a rifle, throwing a chair.
Singing his heart to the light of the moon.
Wolves and coyotes along with him croon.
Howling their souls upon the night breeze.
Hoping one day to feel true love’s squeeze.
Persistently trekking to the journey’s end.
Working together securing every bend.
When at last their steer is sold for meat.
They hoop and holler down the dusty street.
But when it all is said and done,
And cowboys finish that tiresome run.
They hold their women very near.
To a cowboy, family is mighty and dear.
© March 12, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Related Poems