Load Ditko Ditko
Existence of rooftops, pentrooves & pentup angst
(I am spectral, tenacious, teneral Spiderman),
banging my head against unwell updraughts
from Bat Pleb City below.
My pigeo'lante perchspective is
dibble-vizzle-proof bartizan:
noone watches the watcher
who watches the aggro.
Bug guy goggles glued to Burberry busters
(wiggas, birdshits - los gueros son guano),
all the homicidal Waynes 'n' Darrens
are in my violent Stylite sights.
Above the chatoyancy streets,
keeping dog & keeping doggo,
till some hue & cry cries out for
an unhinged spandexy lychnobite.
W/ acrospastic techbrechyerfeckinique,
blunderingly I brachiate,
oppidan orangpendak
blowing his crypto-
zoological cover, along
stumblesome slackline I tried to angulate
outta the grapnelhook gun
on which I blew my crypto.
Down to streets of infinite provocation,
to twitchells of selfsale th'asbo-
cratic pleets long ceded to the
NEETS. Yet sherlock qualms
don't hinder me, I'll kapow
the crapow outta yobbos
because even the most innocent Molotovs
betoken behavioral Napalm.
Tonite, a fairish thot is quarry for
her embonpoint, harried thru Bat Pleb City
by Nickelodeon Cottons, ratboys
on the ravish. Tomorrow,
gammoflakes can testify before the
Left Behind White Pupils Committee,
but tonite Wee Willie Weinsteins will
be stalkers stalked across terra indigo.
'Oi, wozzat?' Dread froufrou of my
90s trenchcape pricks honcho's
silver maggot-studded rat ear.
Badly I slink, clumsy as irony
of Eddie Brock dying of kuru. Still,
the first tearaway is K.O.'d ,
as my ol' A-Team vertical bum's rush
lowers him to the flagstone velocitously.
Another babyface hood was heard to
hastily nuncupate that his
sister could have his bedroom
once mortal beanjuice flowed,
for I came at him w/ gowpenful
of Ginzu hilt. Loutish homies missed
his last request, skidooing aceldama-
rama I rubylube, new pantomaim hero.
So what they didn't carry lengs
or nanks or a fuckoff tyranno-
sawnoff? They may very well have been firefly
kids from the orphanage, but lone
blartlette found bull's noon bullocks
minacious I bet. Besides, I torpedo'd
my speechbubble, skipped ad quipping.
Incommunicommando, I switched my phone
to a solemn volume, honoured the fallen
Shane Thing, Gary Driver or Jordan Boi
I stabbed up for the Public Good. L/
vinyl pylons glint vertical ghettos,
yet I'm relegated to drainpiping
it for my victorious coup d'oeil
- grapnel gun from Taiwan's jammed! Behind
extemporising droogs, there's a maestro
of malfeasance, the unmoved mover of mens rea.
Big Bads own plazas, dontcha know?
Kingpin of Bat Pleb City is Michael Kill,
Nighttime Industries Association President.
I'm not some loco yokel, Tony Martin
cosplaying as a pine marten w/ mundo
ammo. No. Underworld Strombolis
are firststringers superjacent,
I've grasped that (a criminological
redpill I necked l/ a nettle capsule).
I'm spilling blood l/ it was
pick 'n' mix, but my nutso gusto
means more than knives in the guts of young punks.
Rough justice is my brooding fuel,
not just piquerism or ephebephobia.
In the straight & narrow shadows
of respectability, Michael Kill is cloaked.
Pathetically fallacious lightening
nudges its symbollic elbows at turgid
flashpoint within my creatine breast,
sarcoline steel flex. I must kill Michael
Kill for killing a beloved McGuffin
of the human type (wife, brother, foster
cousin). That's my beat 'em up quest.
But Michael Kill is a Dr.Jeckyllroy
& Mr.Hyde 'n' Silk dissembler,
whose crooks scam nannies in the nooks
& crannies, whilst craven sparrow-
cops prefer busting Pret-a-Manger
Boy Floyd, crumb thief. Rozza choppers
must be his rumoured moles in high
places, searchlighting for barrio Zorros
such as me & Mark Fowler, cockney Shadowhawk,
who kept his armour under his barrow,
until his T-cell countdown relived him
of duty. No volucrinal disruptors
us, us nonsupedup apterous dogooders
under a blitz of bizzies and balenio
evade the bacon budgies' stringy strafing.
Those semper supra partypoopers
scupper our parkours of duty (no bus subsidies
for fleeing the authorities). Once
my sable sense of stealth secures me a momentarily
stable sense of self, a centring vertigo
upon some ad hoc Gotham-grotty mirador,
then some relative omniscience,
a sentry's shufti at the sinful ginnels,
the maffickers & mollishers beneath prow
of my perching knees, is a prelude to a purged
pisgah, subdued streets: crime rate zero.
His racketentacular stranglehold
I'll spikebozzle, I'll knife, throttle my
way thru to crime-Chthulu, Michael Kill.
Acharné city on the hill, brute euno-
mia shall takeover your Toytown Macoutes
& sniktable mooks (numberless ninjas/ninjae).
Should 1 of my upstanding chivs
breakoff in some chav's sternum,
nil poinard, I'm still as hard as
Medusa's nits. Whammo!
Fists (plus pantherinely jockstrapped fondle-
berries) l/ knosped squids will disestablish
latrociniums
of assembled hooliwags & scalligans,
sent spartling l/ tanto-
ny tarantulas. Exfiltrates stage left
(I'm spectral,
tenacious, virile sterile neutrino),
a holy Goetz untraceable as patsy pimp,
Jamaican Rolf, secret son
of syuzhetsam woven by Weird Freddie's
west wings of whoppers. Aeo-
lian witness intimidation:
wheeliebin not foreseeably going on
any wheeliebinges, overturned,
buffetted across the urban ténéré
l/ a 70s coproll performed by
a choadnosed dalek (R2-Dildo).
Corpses & other rubbish, rubbish &
other corpses, of my laudable lethal myway leeway
daren't say much
more than Harpo.
Everything imaginable creaks. Nooks possibly
stoop. Holes definitely cringe. No-
cifensive noshows the offenders now razorjolly
Rhadamanthus patrols stacked Rachmanism
that's Bat Pleb City, this Erewhon Wen
only a Michael Kill-killing blow
can deliver from rife reoffending rates
(rough justice cures recidivism).