Arts : Super Man


(Poem – photo : facebook)

He flew under the radar into my dreams.  His planet in another universe where they see no restrictions, no alienating judgments when two men wake up to the beautiful connection their hard bodies boast in soft muted release.  His cape never dropped to adorn normal clothes, just lingered longer, woven like dreaded locks from the top of his head to brown barefooted toes. Super Man ripped from my grasp the bed linen leaving every thread shred bare on the floor. His teeth tore off my boxer shorts leveling us more.   Proudly naked, our differing planetary birthrights, one and the same, assuring me our skin was enough, more than enough to protect from the burning rays.

His long hands scooped under my trembling thighs, resting his countenance on my body for a fleeting moment before we took flight.  Frightened blue eyes locked onto brave brown ones staring down my fear rising inside me, he knew I’d never flown free before. Obscuring my vision, exhuming my earthbound gravity, he let his long locks shroud my view tickling my face. I relaxed giggling when suddenly our bodies rose off the bed in midair. Hold on tight his tongue braised my ear speaking to me without words.  No language needed, no words could accurately describe flying through the wooden roof underneath nothing but blue, then black, then white clear diamonds racing all around us, etching our pathway far, far beyond the need for color’s hue.


Super Man’s LSD is unlike any I’d consumed during my days, years ago, when childlike innocence was purged from my soul. We all tried to kiss the sky like Jimi Hendrix with anything sold on the street, but the trip never lasted, wasn’t worth the price of flashbacks, lost loves’ and dropped out, pseudo hippy-domed grass, green mold.  I held on tight as the flight took me to places only dreamed of by psychedelic poets I thought I knew.  We flipped-flopped, twirled weightless, spiraling through universe after universe, in one glance, we had reached the end of eternity.  More like creativity in reverse; action, spoken word, beginning thought, crammed together, jammed up, destroyed by our freedom to fly through it all, no black hole nothing lost.

Not speaking only feeling as one, like psychically-blended souls, when trying to grab tight onto Super Man’s hold all that was embraced just a singular totem pole.  Was it mine?  Was it his?  Where was my man of steel with cape draped low, I could tell descending was imminent dropping me in bed, no kryptonite cold.  Early morn sun shining bright it must be Earth’s only one, I’ve grown accustomed to own.  Sleep-filled eyes matted so tight, prolonging this miraculous flight, one big jolt that suddenly shook the springs to live wire.  I did feel his long arm draped over my side, Super Man’s heated breath shockingly inspired, “Let go of my dreads, you crazy fool, it’s me your true love.  We just jumped back, our spirit’s safely inside, from astral release, faster than Super Man speed!”

David W. Bradburn   ♦    June 2013

There are 10 comments

Add yours
  1. eric

    this is not written or constructed well at all.
    and by what stretch of the imagination is it a poem?

    plus everybody knows that superman is a lousy fuck– he’s faster than a speeding bullet.

  2. Hunter0500

    Art. Not porn.

    Well, that’s not gonna go over well. Nobody can jack off to it.

    But on the other hand (pun), it is intriguing to read. And seductive in its unique way.

  3. psychophant

    A fine tribute to the man of steel. I’m sure Kal appreciates it. I think we can all relate in some way to Superman. or the idea of Superman. Of mice and men. of man and superman. Nice to see some unexpected creative work in this space.

  4. walter

    I’m still trying to figure out how that is a poem.. To me its more if a scene from some exotic romantic book that a woman would read.

    Personally i never thought superman was sexy to me. He’s too good and too perfect for my taste. I prefer a guy with mystery abd a dark side to hin. Someone like batman (even though he has issues).. Hell lex luther is sexy to me even though he bald, lol.. Love me a evil genius, lol..

  5. Erik

    Poems do not have to rhyme, nor follow a rhyming scheme. It could be classified as a poem because of its literary styling. Just my two cents worth, from a college literature professor.

  6. eric

    @ erik:

    poems don’t have to rhyme, but they do have to have structure. even rod mckuen at his worst was better than this.

    as a college lit professor, what grade would you give this assignment?

  7. Sly Evans

    You should see my apt. For my superman fandom,..even though I wld nvr equate Kal-El with being gay it’s nice that he’s recgognized even here on A4A!

Post a new comment

Like us to stay in touch with latests posts!