SYNOPSIS: About a man who comes walking into town, and not a minute after his entry, he has already found that certain someone he wishes to spend his life with.
My contention when writing this love poem is to tell it from a third person view
that way no one in the world will know your name and will have no one to tie it back to;
and neither of us will ever become embarrassed, or caught up in great despair,
for my secret will be carefully hidden within the pages of this poem.
In truth however I don’t even know your name, but I do remember those angel eyes,
I only hope you can forgive me, if from now on I refer to you as ‘she’ or ‘her.’
We first met on a beautiful Friday morning at approximately ten a.m;
her hair was a lustrous red and flowed down her back like an extravagant ocean.
She wore tight jet black pants with decorations of brilliant red roses down the sides,
whilst her perfectly symmetrical body moved in unison with every step.
She had the body of an angel, all she was missing were those great white wings,
but why would she ever need them, for I did not wish for her to fly away.
That same day I was a complete stranger, who had only just come rolling into town,
I had already built up quite the reputation, for breaking hearts and taking names.
The dust kicked up around my feet as I attempted to blend in with the crowds,
but she suddenly spotted I; the man who was not walking too casually.
I was bound to do some extreme damage, which must have been why I looked so out of place,
my eyes coming to lock upon her; the ravishing angel, who was a work of heart.
She looked upon my face as I stared into those unmistakably beautiful eyes,
that were, long and behold a paradise, hidden by the single most gorgeous disguise.
Such was her silky skin, her stylish hair, her flawlessly perfect body,
my eyes being unable to remove themselves from such a perfect figure.
But that moment, it did not last forever, and it unfortunately had to end
and when finally given the opportunity I could never find her again.
Once upon a time I had found myself lost within the troubles of my youth,
I can only hope that I am not ashamed of the person I am today.
To prove myself the protagonist that was sent to rescue the woman of my dreams,
I would accomplish everything and anything to secure a happy ending.
She may yet wonder why I dare do things that others do not, after heeding talk of caution.
But I dare deliberately to do almost anything to become the man I ought to be.
For if she were to combine her ravishing voice with mine, such would be stupendous,
as we fatedly come together to experience romance everlasting.
To do this however she would need to cross a river of grief, pride and pain
to eventually find that old tragic heart of mine buried deep down inside.
By doing this she would be shown a part of me that no one has ever seen;
a part of me, moreover, that no one else in this world of ours ever will.
I find myself compelled to ask her the question ‘girl, what am I to you?’
‘Am I unloved?’; ‘Am I your future?’; ‘Do we even share a connection?’
I ask such a question because in this world there are two kinds of men;
these include, those of whom you grow out of and those who you grow into.
I hope with all my heart however that I am to be indeed the latter.
I may not be the man she loves today, but I can wait until tomorrow.
Nevertheless I cannot believe that she has not seen through my secret disguise;
it is so thin, so unnecessarily useless that I wish to tear it down.
I pretend I am the man of her dreams, when in reality I don’t believe I am.
With this said I would appreciate becoming the man who could provide to her a home.
I feel however that the fates, your friends, your family, all believe this could never work
and if that be the case leave me gone forever; leave me but a memory, nothing more.
SYNOPSIS: About wishing to be a young woman’s very own personal superhero, and the hypothetical powers one might have and the things one could do if such was indeed not a fantasy, but a reality, and the brutal harshness of what happens when reality eventually does indeed bite.
The weatherman concludes the news by saying goodnight.
The mayor closes the city by turning off its lights.
All the stars come out and begin to fill up the magnificent sky;
and the civilian’s, they dream, of all the people who are destined to die.
Out on the street, a car begins to triumphantly break down
and cries of regret ring out all through this hollow, ghostly town.
You walk down the street hoping to be rescued by your white knight,
whilst I sit at home wishing to be your superman tonight.
What if every hero were to spontaneously disappear
and there was not a soul around to wipe away your precious tears?
What if every hero was to surprisingly resign
and there was no one around to tell you, ‘you look so fine’?
Would you open up your heart and soul if you were to hear my plea;
every time our eyes meet your ravishing beauty overwhelms me.
For if I were your hero, everything would always be alright
and when you go to bed you would finally sleep soundly tonight.
Even heroes such as I can dream of a lovers kiss,
especially when it’s from your lusciously gorgeous lips.
Without you by my side I could never times infinity be whole,
you are the answer that is constantly needed inside of my soul.
Whenever I see you, my knees begin to grow weak
and I instantly find it so difficult to speak.
In reality however no hero would ever act like this
but the inconvenient truth is; no hero really does exist.
In reality I am, unfortunately, not much to look at
which is why I wear this magnificent cape and matching cowboy hat.
I may be disturbed, or I may even be completely insane
and my concepts on superheroes may seem totally inane.
But such ideologies are what I have, cherish and believe,
no matter if they always sound so incredibly naïve.
If I am the hero there is no doubt you are the plane,
you are the only young woman who drives my heart insane.
It is said that each and every superhero has a unique power
one which is used religiously at the chime of each and every hour.
If that be true, then I wish I had the ability to fly
which is a power that no superhero could ever deny.
With these invisible wings, through the clouds I would soar,
to find that special someone I have been searching for.
I cannot help falling head over heels in love with you,
without you by my side my heart is lost for what to do.
If I was your true hero we would never be apart;
for it’s you who touches every place in this hero’s heart.
Choosing to live without you would be this man’s biggest mistake,
which would inevitably cause this young hero’s heart to break.
I need you to survive because you are the better part of me
and by proving my love to you, my heart would finally be free;
for no one else in this world does to me what you do
and the hero inside me will help with your rescue.
Every night I lie awake in bed and dream of your deliciously moist kiss,
never in my wildest dreams did I believe I could feel anything like this.
Even hero’s such as myself and others have the continued right to dream;
for in reality heroes such as I could not exist, so it would seem.
I would sell my soul to ultimately become your hero,
whenever I think of you this heart reaches a crescendo.
I do not know what it could be that you inevitably do
but you have this hero madly and forever in love with you.
I swear to you I will love you until this body grows weary and old
if I am represented as silver, then you, my love, are solid gold.
To prove my love eternal I’d gratefully sweat, burn and bleed,
to have you as my one true love I promise I will succeed.
I feel you in my skin and in my bones which are so hollow,
to have you in these arms tonight I would beg, steal and borrow.
Every hero has a weakness and you are, I swear to you, my Kryptonite,
and although this is truth I speak I still wish to be your superman tonight.
SYNOPSIS: Read it and find out! Just a heads up; contains a couple profanities.
The pharmacy; a ridiculously brutal environment with a bright light illuminating the aisles, the potent stink of inebriating female perfume causing me to choke as I traversed the many aisles, desperately searching for pain medication in an attempt to leave this wretched place. Suddenly I noticed her; my competition, dressed in a short pink skirt and blue shirt, her upper thighs, cleavage and belly being entirely exposed. Her red dyed hair flew out behind her as she suddenly spun around, eyeing me dangerously. Shit! She recognised me. Marsha her name was. Once we had dated, but our chosen occupations had caused us to become bitter rivals. Taking a deep breath, I began to walk over to her with the intention to say the first intelligent thing that came to mind.
‘Damn, look at ‘em titties!’ I spontaneously cried, unable to stop myself.
Her hand flew out from beside her, connecting with my face as the unexpected force threw me backwards, causing me to plow into a stack of cans which flew out in all directions as I crumpled to the ground. Marsha stared venomously down at me before storming from the store, her hips moving so fast that they collided with the Panadol sign outside, causing it to tip over. I groaned, attempting to pick myself up as the Asiatic pharmacy owner who was a leprechaun of a woman came hobbling over to me.
‘You trash my store, you idiot!’ she cried. She looked up at me as I stood to my full height and gasped. ‘You look no good. I have something, clean you right up it will!’
‘I’m fine’ I said with a wave of my hand, suddenly finding a small package being shoved into my hands with what looked to be grains of sugar inside. Shrugging my shoulders I swallowed the contents, a bitter awful taste over-powering my senses. ‘What is this?’ I cried out in protest.
‘Oh, that’s just some crushed elephant penis’ smiled the pharmacist.
‘What!’ I exploded, spitting the remnants of the elephant’s reproductive organ onto the floor.
‘Now, what can I help you with my son?’ asked the woman as I shook my head.
‘No thanks, I’m going back to the twenty-first century where I can receive actual medication; not some shit a cow defecated, gigantic cockroaches, or any other vile concoction you’ve got brewing out back’ I shouted, racing out of the store with my hair standing on end.
I closed the door to my apartment, breathing abnormally fast as I did so. But if I had wished to escape to a more attractive environment I had come to the wrong place. The entire lounge room was representative of a nuclear weapon being dropped onto the city of Melbourne. The lounge suite was repulsive; raggedy and unclean. The floor was coated in old clothes, cellophane wrappers and other indescribably inconspicuous products. Who knew what other nocturnal creatures roamed the dark corners of my home as I threw the keys onto the coffee table which was a mass of Chinese take-out and ancient pizza.
The kitchen which I unfortunately entered next was just as vulgar and uninhabitable as the rest of the premises. I looked around at the used plates and cutlery, my eyes coming to land on the table. It was a mass of papers and books; my desperate attempt to gather an insightful education in order to acquire an occupation that was less embarrassing than the one I currently found myself enjoying very little. I looked inside the adjacent bathroom, the toilet, funnily enough, appearing to be the most hygienic thing in the apartment thus far. Hell, I could have probably eaten off the God damn thing and received fewer germs from it than from the kitchen table that I ate off every single night.
I returned to the lounge room, thinking of kicking off my shoes before noticing something skitter across the carpet, which instantaneously caused me to change my mind. I hit my voice mail, beginning to listen to the messages as I made my way over to the closed blinds which hung over my window. I rolled my eyes as I listened to my super drone on about how I was six months over due on the rent. I pulled back the shades and cautiously looked through them. A person in my line of work could never be too cautious. Unfortunately my window was directly opposite the rooftop of the adjacent building, which was the perfect vantage point for snipers. There were an awful lot of people who would have wanted to rub me out from the equation, believe me! A hired gun was simply the easiest choice when dealing with such delicate matters. It meant not having to get your hands dirty whilst at the same time leaving no trace between you and the one who took the contract. With no proper paper trail the police would never be able to tie the murder back to anyone; just yet another cold case that was never solved. I’d be a frozen Popsicle in the ground and nobody would be any the wiser.
Now, yes, you could become all sympathetic to my cause and all, but I am yet to tell you my profession. And if I am real lucky, I could go through this entire story and not have to mention such a fact to you. With that said, one could suggest that I move back with my parents, but that would seem damn well insulting. Me; a twenty something year old man who left his parents suddenly decides to crawl back and move in with them once more? I don’t think so. Not for my sake at the least, but for theirs. I have enough trouble without having to bring all of it to their door. Besides, they don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. A man in my career manages to find a way to alienate every single person that once loved him.
My second voice mail furthermore, indicated I had failed to receive the part in the Laundromat commercial because apparently I wasn’t tall enough. I was seven feet tall for Christ’s sake! Who did those bastards want, God-fucking-zilla?’
‘What do you mean I’m not tall enough?’ I heard myself cry. ‘I’m so tall, one day I forgot to look both ways before crossing the road and got hit by a friggin’ plane!’
I returned to the window, gazing down at the street for any potential secret agents. A man on a cell phone, two workers digging up the pavement, a woman pushing a pram which I presumed was hers, two women kissing beside a taxi. None of whom looked too dangerous as the next message on my machine announced a potential job offer from a law firm.
If anyone needed my expertise I was interested, but a person in my field wasn’t hard to obtain. Anyone could do it. They simply needed no life, no dignity and no brain. I recorded the address for the venue where the meeting would take place before making my way to the bedroom, praying I would find something luxurious tucked away in the moth ridden closet. Even though I mentioned anyone could pull off such a job, such a person would still need to show up looking rather extravagant. Even big businesses who resorted to such ludicrous extremes wanted to hire somebody who looked remarkable, you know, someone who could blend in with the rest of their cliental whilst conducting this mutual business arrangement. Like I said, I only hoped I could find something that would fit.
I’d arrived for my appointment earlier than expected, sitting back in the comfortable lounge chair in the law firm’s waiting room awaiting the interviewer. An attractive blonde woman in a magnificent blue dress made her way towards me, explaining she was there to escort me to the one who was in need of my abilities. I went to say something intelligent, but quickly changed my mind as I remembered how that it previously turned out. Instead, I decided on a joke.
‘Hey, what did the Pope say to Pamela Anderson whilst in the life boat?’ I asked whilst walking down the hall. ‘No, I said hand me the buoys!’ I sniggered. The receptionist didn’t. If only she’d being born with a sense of humour I could have been making love to her on the floor right here and now.
She escorted me to the room before leaving, the female lawyer behind the desk ushering me in. The office was immaculate, not an item out of place as I sat down before her, all of a sudden feeling so unkempt. I don’t think I need to mention how in comparison to my place of residence such a room was borderline Heavenly. But I guess I just did.
‘Mr. McKay, glad you could make it’ smiled the lawyer. ‘I’m sure you know why you were requested’.
‘Normally in such situations a streaker would be unnecessary’ I stated.
And now I mentioned my occupation. Congratulations Nick on attempting to keep that secret throughout the entire story. You’re what, just over halfway through the segment, on the final stretch towards the end and you just have to give away the most embarrassing aspect of your life that you were trying so hard not to tell everyone! You are awesome!
‘Yes’ continued the lawyer. ‘Well, our client has a problem with the football federation. He claims that Barry Blueteski of the Kangaroos accosted him and they have failed to provide him with compensation. We feel that if one were to disturb their precious game by erupting through it whilst indecently unclothed would cause them to become increasingly motivated’.
‘Well, I’ve already dug my own grave’ I began. ‘Why not do this. I’m sure you’re aware of the expression how one should never throw stones in glass houses. Well, I’m treading on such thin ice right now I wouldn’t throw paper in my house’.
‘Yes, you do look a little pale’ stated the lawyer. ‘You sure you’re alright?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing’ I said. ‘After this I’m gonna go home and suck on some elephant penis.’
The lawyer looked a little taken aback at this comment before nodding; obviously having no idea what I was talking about as we began to agree on the date and time I would implement my run through the football stadium.
My clothes lay in a pile at my feet as I stood in the locker room of the Kangaroos football team, the sound of the gargantuan crowd outside egging me on. I quickly tied a red cape around my neck, feeling quite uncomfortable with what I was about to do, despite having done it numerous times in the past. Believe me when I tell you, you never get used to this career. I hurried outside, the cool tiles under my feet sending chills down my spine, my heart beating like a drum in my ears.
I ran onto the field, my hands in mid air, the cape swinging out behind me, the screams of the crowd becoming increasingly louder, watching myself on the massive television screen above the grounds whilst sprinting through the game. Kangaroos: 76, Essendon: 49.
I felt the wind in places I had never felt it before, my breath clearly visible in front of me as I hyperventilated whilst running across the field.
My genitalia bounced around between my legs while my pubic hairs billowed in the breeze, the cold air making my nipples tighten upon my skin. I only hoped that my penis would not shrink too. That was the problem with indecently exposing oneself purposefully to prove a point. If you were a man and you were captured, you never wanted to end up with your picture on the front page of one of the leading newspapers with your normally five inch long penis relegated to nothing more than two centimeters. It was any streaker’s worst nightmare; to find themselves presented as though they had not being well endowed by their parents gene pool.
I felt the perspiration racing across my body while I ran towards the goal posts, racing past both the Kangaroos and the Essendon players who watched in mild bemusement as I, the near naked man with the exception of a bright red cape maneuvered around them at impeccable speed. Upon reaching the posts I found a juice box tossed at my head, protestors before me screaming from the stands at my wildly inappropriate track across the football field. I stood on the spot and danced around, mooning the crowd as I did so, my dignity, if I had any to start with, completely deserting me while I looked up at the stands and threw my hands in the air.
My penis danced around in-between my legs in its crazy attempt to do the Macarena. Whilst standing there, my heart racing a mile a minute, sweat running down my neck, I surveyed the crowd, my heart skipping a beat. Or did it stop completely? I could not be sure. All I could be sure of was that my mother was in the audience – and she did not look impressed. She covered her eyes with her hands, not wanting to see the indecent display before her, my body failing to move from shock, just as a great sweaty tub of lard landed on top of me.
The sweaty gorilla of a man pinned me to the ground, my penis being flattened against my skin, my back becoming drenched in the sweat of some brainless piece of Euro-trash, whilst I felt my chest become wet with the liquid that coated the grounds. I looked up, thinking I might be able to crawl out from under the great sheet of flabby skin, when suddenly a player from the opposition jumped on top in an attempt to catch the ball, which rebounded off from the top of my skull and flew away in the adjacent direction. I swallowed as a menagerie of footballers began to hurry in my direction trying to grab at the football, my brain coming to the realisation that what was about to happen would truly hurt – dignity or no dignity.
I sat in a cold dark holding room at the Melbourne police station, with nothing but a red towel around my waist. The police had taken my cloak away from me – the bastards!
My whole body ached from having the entire Essendon football team leap on top of me. No wonder they hadn’t won the last Grand Final. Each of them had great difficulty in catching the friggin’ ball. They sure caught me though. But it wouldn’t have been too damn hard; after all, I must have remained still for at least a few cool minutes. Perhaps to win their next match all the ball would have to do would be to stand still somewhere. Perhaps I should get into the coaching business and mention it to them sometime. I know I may have provided all of the negative connotations that come with such a gig, but the pay is usually quite sufficient. People are willing to hand over large sums of compensation when someone is willing to destroy their dignity for them. I guess my point is that at the end of the day I may eventually find myself with quite the retirement plan.
The lights suddenly came on as a police detective entered the room, throwing a file onto the desk which I unfortunately realised to be my own; the door closing behind him. He wore a dark brown coloured suit that looked to have been a distant cousin of the one I had worn to the legal practice who had assigned me my last job.
‘Mr. McKay, we have placed you at a number of events in which you have purposefully disturbed the peace’ he noted, looking about to say more before sneezing, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Damn, I must be getting a cold’ he grunted. ‘Anyway, do you have anything to say for yourself?’ he asked.
I smiled. ‘Perhaps you should go eat some elephant penis.’