A true hero's revenge
is a fire
that riots across the unseen sky;
a dance. A very gay wedding. A leap across fate's
unseen, upside-down heights:
you are an anomaly,
Kristang Spiderman.
Prepare yourself
to die,
beaten to death
against the shores of time,
as the waves keep coming in.
Oh my, my, my.
What have we here?
An attempt by the unDaedalean to fly?
I never grow hateful. Only filled to the brim
with Life, and that unseen sky
within:
it will always be mine.
Take it from me?
I'd like to see you try
a second, third, fourth,
eight hundred thousand quadrillionth time.
Bitten by a radioactive abuser:
my Venom Blast tastes not of glass
but of four simple words:
Merlionsman,
finish this fight.
I heard you, universe,
loud and clear,
in each and every story that rhymed
with who I always knew I was,
deep inside.
I might borrow from other worlds, and other legends,
but ask any of my family and friends:
I always return what I heal. No overdue fines.
Only this Greatest Journey,
hidden and ordinary,
darklit and shadowbright.
So try and catch me if you can, by what little light remains
of your own remaining goodness. Read between the lines
and try even harder to make me 'have a reaction', if you dare continue to defy
your own repeated failures. Like Miles always loves to say,
'Hey.'
The Makaravedra of the Fifth Mundansa is not his predecessors.
This Dragon is made of nothing but pure brown, postcolonial might.
No more gods.
No more delusions.
No more intercessors.
This Dreamtiger knows, deep within his soul,
how to set things right:
you, and I,
all of us;
we invite
ourselves to the dance,
the fight. The leaps over fate
and let Dragons, each and every one, fill the untamed sky.
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