If you like words and riddles...

Posting is an interesting thing. I like to read them all...some are dumb, some are bland, some are off the wall, most are informative and smile-invoking...there are more good than bad here. Writing about the services of CGC (poor/ok/ontrack etc.) have become tiresome. They perhaps would be ok if CGC actually responded to the many complaints. But they don't, so it's just a rant fest. OK. Keep the posts coming in-case they one day read them and react.

I have some friends here and there who have prompted me to "publish" some of the stuff I write. Mainly quatrains...an interesting style that evokes quick thoughts/actions/feelings and hopefully can even carry a narrative. Maybe it's the West's answer to the haiku. Anyway, most of my work is dark and usually deals with someone dying in some strange and perhaps existential or profound way. I also delve into the comic world which I love, and the quatrains here are more "guess who I am" type of things. Don't know. Just jumping out on a limb and sharing something a little different than what usually gets posted.

A big thanks to TNerb and Screenwriter3d for putting out posts that aren't always "comic related" but somehow still fit the medium and are good reads...therefore I don't feel so "out there" posting this kind of thing.

There is a character behind them all. Most are pretty easy to guess...esp. if you are a Marvel creature.

I watched the red and gold iron come crashing from the sky,

I wondered if a billionaire could keep his soul alive,

He owns his own creations, and plans the rest at best,

He never thinks twice when firing from his chest.

Green is glory and power, no jealousy here,

With fists the size of suitcases there is nothing fear,

Except the blackout feast of gamma transformation,

Something always safeguards this desperate mutation.

I was always strong, and became thus,

Yet orange and rock, I won't discuss.

It's all about keeping a grim brutality,

I struggle to end conflicts without fatality.

By Crom I must have that thing,

Glistening in the moonlight on the summit's ring.

The Picts guard her with minute precision,

She is a Goddess! I've made my decision.

It should be a protuberance, the Earth stuck between my teeth.

Perhaps I could have used a silver surfpick to clean it underneath,

Or a nova storm to burn it clean. Oh my minion children!

One day the Earth will no longer keep me thin!

You must never free Akira,

Your life will become a cyberpunk thriller.

Dystopia regime is not the thing,

But has Tetsuo already lost the ring?

There is nothing but the fist. That is my iron core.

I've smashed six-inch canines and didn't tire,

I even mopped Stark off the floor.

Now I am looking for a hero to hire.

Red, red, red. It's the color of feasting on the fool,

I see red as blue and green as red. With that being said,

I don't understand the color of red.

Perhaps it's all the zombie blood I drool.

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