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Pop Culture Poetry

Never Ending Story


Walking between the statues gaze

Of the Never Ending Story

Only faith and belief will guide you

With the luck of a dragon

Your story will never end

Constructing a new world

As faith only follows destiny

Delivering the strength of Atreyu

The Indian boy of Spartan descendancy

In a desire to save the Princess muse;

A crumbling fantasy, lost in Fantasia

A castle in salvation

The last spirit of human faith



Mohammed Ali


I am the left of hook of penetrating truth

The possum as my muse

Mohammed Ali to be used

Feigning my purpose

Disguising my rise

Just come a little closer

And your fate will be mine



Louisville Slugger


I am the heavy hitter of purposeful cause

Smashing the minds of human insight

Built of this earth of wood and pine

You grasp me with intentions in flight

Swinging me is a purely human feat

Built in the America as a metaphor of strength

Hitting home runs for everyone to see

This is who we are, this is what we built

No fast ball can stop nor curve of deception defeat

As I was built for this out of pure human grit



Avengers Affinity


With my Iron men by my side

Living in the purity of the Black Panther

Marching in tandem, a brutality of aesthetics

As enemies to Infinity will soon devour

A story of Thanos, a story only

Dr. Strange can induce, a belief

Even when the mighty Thor

Hears no lighting nor Thunder

When the beautiful blonde gives

Herself for an eternity of others

Hope will always survive



Beowoulf


Staring into the tomb of Grendel's birth, a hero's tragedy plaguing his soul

Born of the mighty Kings of Gods, only the soul of Beowulf knows

Torments of hell grasped by the musing devil seducing as Angelina Jolie

A female as art told many times before, bringing even men of Gods to kneel

As the metaphor of the tragedy becomes born into the Grendel of disgust

Depicting our inward hate of a human nature sworn to ruin even those we love



Interview with a Vampire


Tell me of baton rouge

Nola's delicious cuisine

Haunting Brad Pitt

As a poodle's kin

Of Old ladies in blood;

Tom Cruise has no shame

A perversion foreseen,

A homosexual proclivity

Between two men

Denying their whims

The nature of a vampire

A sexual attraction indeed



Labyrinth


A sister living in consciousness of choices

Betraying her brother of love

Giving evil its opportunity to gain

The life of one more living soul

A story we have all heard, lived

Many of us years long before

To never give in to our worst dispositions,

Our defeat of self through inward

Frustrations of conceited concern

And when we do, we fight like hell

We enter our internal labyrinth

Discovering our journey of self

Seeing the good once again

Even in evils's realm, we find good

Turning the labyrinth of fate

Into a battle of good vs. him,

The once mighty Goblin King

Who waits and listens, to one

Fainted spirit to give him

The blood of a leach

To feast on our souls

Furthering the labyrinth

Disguising our will;

But she, just as you or I

Will not fall to the goblins disease

The King of dying hope and belief

Willing to give her soul

For a loved one held so dear

She enters to battle in this

Demon's playground of hate

Couraging inside, her soul begins

To find in this journey, human

Faith of love, defeats this Goblin

Demon twisting our thoughts

Enraging our hearts into spited

Indignity shallowing our souls;

Burying our true selves

By delivering pain of one decision;

But she does not quit

She will not fail

This princess of fate

Becomes the hero of strength

A beacon of light for us to tale

A story we can all endure

Grasping our soul, our choices weighed

You keep going until

You balance the scales

Through a conquering of our labyrinths

Good will always prevail

And Goblin Kings will always fail

As Sarah's story now tells



Existentialism


A withering venture of exhaustion of my soul into waking nightmares, a living comedy

Dante would fear; the shaking, the rattling, only pain I hear, depressing my mind into an Emotionless gaze stared into an abyss no human has perceived leaving centuries of building To my grave of Sorgen’s despair, not a choice nor a solution can rise my conscious beyond Hauntings of battled fears never conceived in reality as I am lost in reflections disturbing Bourdain in his grave with acts of destruction plaguing my body, imagery unrelenting, Pulsing beneath my skin as hope and faith live in the realms of the white witch holding me to My pain, as a story is told, the Greeks tragedy implore a Greco -Roman hold tightening the Pains of my breath as my existential existence ends in the darkness its phenomenology Entails, a Being in Nothingness Jean Paul's story being told, just like before, nothing is new, Just humans being humans, an experience I no longer know, a life I now know I never knew




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© 2019 by R. Cary