NaPoWriMo 2016: Day 9

This poem was written after a day of listening to the awesome poetry on display at CUPSI 2016 in Austin, Texas. Throughout the competition a central theme was racism. While I agreed with 99.9% of the things that were being said, it was still quite difficult to listen to hours of poetry which singled out straight, white men as being THE problem when I am a straight, white man. This poem is an attempt to sum up my feelings and kind of act as a response of sorts to the poems I heard.

Side note: If you ever get the chance to see the CUPSI tournament then go! It is an amazing event filled with amazing people who were all super friendly and welcoming.


There is an issue of Marvel’s Uncanny X-Force

[Uncanny X-Force, The Apocalypse Solution (Part 4) to be exact]

In which

Deadpool feeds pieces of himself to Archangel

In order to transfer some of his God-like healing ability to his damaged body.

I want you to take this skin

I want you to take pieces of it anyway you can

If it will make you feel safer

Hannibal Lecter my privilege

And make a three course meal of my security

I promise you I can take it


Are dying

And i don’t know what else to do.

I have heard so many poets tell me

That I look


Like the problem

Like apocalypse with a capital A

It is an inheritance i never asked for

So carve it out of me

Grind it down

Use it to cover the door posts of your bodies

When the angel of death comes

I hope there is a new passover

When the angel of death comes

I hope he is not a he

I hope death is formless



A thousand shades of colour

I hope death lives on the other side of somebody else’s mirror

So i don’t have to check my reflection for the smile of his scythe

So i can stop looking for the blood and the bones

In my voice

Every time you walk on stage.

I want death to work like he does in the comics


Keeping an open handed grip on souls

So that all these heroes can one day come back

And if death isn’t looking too closely

I want you to take this white boy healing factor.

And i know what this sounds like

I’m not trying to be a Mr. Fantastic

I’m not trying to save you

I just want to be standing beside you when you save yourself.

Remember how we started this poem.

Deadpool feeding pieces of himself to a dying angel

Maybe one day

We’ll finish this poem



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