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Full Version: April 25 NaPoMo 2021
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Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.


NaPM April 25, 2021



Topic: Write a poem making a hero a villain or vice versa

Form: any

Line Requirement: at least 8

All he sees are needles and smiles
Cold unwelcoming tables that turn

Wonder what brings out suicidals
Lights and mirrors seem to stretch miles
All he desires to scratch the burn

All he sees are needles and smiles
Names numbers images in files
Before you leave he makes sure you learn

Wonder what brings out suicidals
The deep gas surgery high dials
Drills for hours your dreamland churns

All he sees are needles and smiles
You won't take care of after while
Which is worse, who will, or won't, return

Wonder what brings out suicidals
All he sees are needles and smiles.
The Villain Steals

Stealing a bag of milk isn’t right you know.
But when you’re the hero, it is alright though.
When you die a hero, no one will remember you.
When you live as a villain, everyone will seek,

Out this new villain, being the one they hate.
If it is alright to steal, then go on and partake.
The scooping of hands on the bag and run.
Into where the open street are all among.

The gas station is where you spend your time.
Making a villain out of yourself, so be inclined,
To be the bad guy, it is really that fun.
You’ll be the villain on the run.
X M.M. X

Mr. trouble never hangs around,
when he hears this Mighty sound,

The Mouse knows the thirty-two caliber
serial numbers of the dead.
The Mouse knows where the bodies lead.
Black market magic carpet machine guns.

Here I come to save the day!
That means that Mighty Mouse is on the way!

The only day he plans to save
is the day his serial number comes up.
Life with the Mouse is always a bullet circus.

Yes sir, when there is a wrong to right,
Mighty Mouse will join the fight!

The Mouse can shoot electricity from his fingertips,
Oil Can Harry once tied the Mouse to a railroad track
with a bomb strapped to his head…

On the sea or on the land,
He's got the situation well in hand! 

Got out of that one 
by turning a train into an accordion,
And Pearl Pureheart?  
What would a Gable-moustached cat in splatterdashes and zoot suit
do with a virgin mouse?

We know that when there's danger, we'll never despair;
Because we know that when there's danger he is there…

The Mouse has no right to haunt me, 
not 65 years later,
I know the number of my sins, the sin is the punishment,
even the Mouse knows the buzzsaw of that tune.

On the land on the sea in the air.

I need to finish off this mouse,
and if he is immortal, I’m checking out
of this hotel called The City of God.

We're not worrying at all
We just listen for his call

“Listen, you’ve got to listen to me! I’m not crazy”
Last words of the whitecoat brigade
that tangled with the Mouse without me.

Here I come to save the day!"
That means that Mighty Mouse is on the way.

I just need an acetate gun and Pearl Pureheart’s address,
one zap and an immolated mouse,
last rites will be me painting my face with his ashes.

When there is a wrong to right,
Mighty Mouse will joint the fight

I will be righteous down the line.
Ask Oil Can Harry, ask the hillbilly wolves, ask Pearl.
The Mouse likes to turn the Wheel of Fate just for fun.

Here I come to save the day!"
That means that Mighty Mouse is on the way!

Now it’s gonna turn for him.
HOA Hero

After last weekend, the neighbors held a meeting to try to find out
who’d been trashing the playground down off of the trail with broken
liquor bottles.  Ralph spoke up that he’d seen kids down there about
noon, raising hell, and they were drinking right out in the open.

The next weekend after no bottles were found, everyone agreed
that Ralph had done well, and they sent him a great thank-you card
for keeping a good eye on the neighborhood.  “That’s what we need 
around here,” they all said.  He replied that it wasn’t so hard. 

“I guess those punks got a good talking to,” Ralph thought.  “I think
they’ll stay gone, and I can get some peace. A guy needs some peace
and a place to be by himself.  Somewhere to be alone and drink.”
He kept extra quiet, and was careful to throw his bottle into the trees.
That troll, again.
Blocking him as usual,
Lizzy sighed, but it was okay --
her friend Fran had slayed again
   (as she called it),
hurling insult for insult
until he got tired.

Fran PM'd:
   You okay hun?
And, as usual, Lizzy confided,
grateful to have found a friend online
amidst the incessant taunting.

After their conversation
Fran smiled as she set up another account,
an anonymous one again,
perfect for trolling.

Perhaps, she thought, it was time he... escalated?
All the better for getting closer to Lizzy.
Friendly Fire

The propeller note drones through turbulence,
breathing is heavy onto glass and leather.
Underneath, it taps in the slip stream,
trapped on the wing, unable to drop.

Farm yard kitchen, tea towel over sink, bacon sizzling,
tiny shoes have just brought in fresh eggs.
She smiles at the whistling, looks up at the morning,
as the bomb slams through the roof.

A paper theatre for the home coming hero,
figures move to an airstrip embrace,
our pilot cups his only child’s face.
Heroic Measures


As God’s my witness
I did all I could to save
that guy he was down
breathing like a saxophone
struggling like my own kid
with colic he was so weak
trying to fight me off
I thought I knew how
to give him CPR
and mouth-to-mouth
but I forgot steps
he got still and
I smelled piss and shit
he’d aspirated vomit
but all that cheering crowd saw
was a black man pushing his chest
and holding a white man down
and yelling in his face
when I tried to keep him with us
turns out he was
a police detective
I didn’t know that
all I know is
I killed him doing it wrong
and now
I’m their damn hero.