The Legend Of SuperTodd
I am not the same that I once used to
Be. Very few can recall the awesome
Sight of tricycle parades in tutu's
Made from duck floaties or refreshments from
Shaking bottles of colored water. All
That remains is to salvage the remnants
Of the unknown story responsible
For a dynasty and its eminence.
As I aged in years my super ego
Looked beyond its stay on the ground. No one
Would Ordinarily see this seagull
As it perched on its watch, but there were some
That would spark to life the monotony
Of a towel into the admiration,
Awe, and mostly wonder that was to be
Incited by the cape; a migration
From the ordinary to the super.
The invisible enemy prolonged
Each day, melting our thoughts into stupors.
The scorching monotony was strong,
Save for the radiant water beneath.
For hours on end this sultriness taunted
The strongest from not falling underneath.
The swelter deliriously haunted
As it blinded from seeing nothing could
Stop the burn. The taunts of the water teased
As splashes depressed where we understood
Drying out clothes; demeanors turn displeased.
With The towel tied on, a new world unleashed;
Flying through the water was the only
Decision. One simple act brought to reach
A sudden growth of popularity.
Sultriness was no longer the ailment.
I climbed as high and far as could bolster
After a short hesitating moment
My feet left beneath me to get closer
In search of the answer that could deny
This pain. A flight comically uncertain;
Lunging out like Icarus soaring high
With the cape flapping in the wind and then…..
The victory, albeit small, was not
Won by the sun but by the wondrous one
Who flew out against nature's harsh onslaught.
Many times over this noble action
Was witnessed and requested by legions
Of admirers and every time since
There would always be an elevation
In moods and everyone became less tense.
Parading around in a towel-made cape
Empowered my stature to grow.
Beseeched with requests I could not escapeThe jovial want for more of the show.
Only for a short presence, I thrived in
The ecstasy of the emotional
Energy I received all belonging
To the flight inherently wonderful.
Now I sit in reminiscence - it seems
Where all of those once eccentric and fun
Memories people remind me and beam
To tell me I am still a super one.
NOTES
I am not the same person that i once used to be. I am laying at the bottom of a pool . . Still Trying to make one last save not realizing i needed saving myself. As i aged in my years my super ego looked beyond its stay on the ground. It looked towards the sky where more freedom roamed. Ordinarily no one would pay attention to some one with a towel on but When the cape came on i was revered by my clout. I was looked at in awe and wonder . . But mostly awe. I was no longer ordinary i was super. The days were long and the heat from the invisible enemy melted our thoughts from coherence . The monotony of the heat was unbearable save for the glaring water beneath. For hours on end it taunted even the strongest from not breaking and falling in. Heat that blinded; heat that made people delirious. Nothing could stop the burn. The taunts of the water teased the slashes grew sullen even the realization of getting our clothes wet dried in the hot sun. But the towel . . . . . Tied on and the world opened. But the heat grew stronger ever trying to penetrate. The next step was to fly into the water towel and all. With One simple act and the popularity grew. The sun was no longer of focus. Higher and higher became the flight the show the whimsy. Climbing as far and as high as i could closer to the sun only to fly further and further into what ultimately would defeat it. Then i began to be asked for more. Parading around in a towel made cape has empowered my stature to grow. In a final showdown with the sun . . I got as close as i could as high up as possible and stopped hanging from the balance. After a short hesitating moment i jumped higher to get closer and higher . . . . lunging out like the guy with the wax wings trying to fly cape flapping in the wind and then. . . The sun came and went and the heat grew stronger most days but the victory albeit small was not won by the sun but by the one in the cape who flew out against nature. Note to self maybe put this in before the and then . . . . Many times over this noble act was seen and many times since there was am elevation in moods among everyone who saw . . It was that flight that changed me and opened me up. Only for a short existence i thrived in the ecstacy of the emotional energy i recieved. Where i am now is the reminiscence of all of those once fun like biking around in a tutu and trike . . Maybe elaborate on that . . . But where i remember all that was fun i can still say i am the super one.
What is included above is the original draft. I wrote the first draft on my cell phone and then transferred it to my palm pilot.
The dates of work on this, since I lost my first draft of notes, I have discovered that I began sometime in September. Possibly around sept 10, 2007, which is the date of the last SuperShelly Story (that I have on file). I would have started this poem around that time, and I know I had work done on it before sept 29th which is when I went to Christine's wedding in Oklahoma. So around my birthday I may have begun working on this. I may not have made mention until Oct on Shelly's Myspace page, as I was holding off on that on purpose, being an aniv for myself and melissa, who Shelly is beginning to epitomize, ironically ending in Jan. The other month. Though this has nothing to do with her, she wanted another story, as did Daniel.
This story is about the SuperTodd dive. It comes off as another version of the Creation of Supertodd. But its not. The dive was not mentioned I do not think until the 4th story (super KAM) and I did not actually DO the dive until 98.
Why the Dive became the central focus of this story is that the Dive itself is what seems to have been the greatest thing ST did. People still do the dive, and people still come to me, remembering that I dove off with the cape. I actually still get comments on that every now and then. So it seems the ST dive made some impact.
The way I wrote this poem – well…
I wrote on my cell my story, and kept it fairly short, more to the point, knowing that I would be editing and poem-ising this. The I transferred it, as I mentioned before. From there I began to reword everything. I wanted this poem to be an iambic pentameter style poem. Whether or not its iambic, I cannot say. I feel I used huge words and over did that, to keep a metaphor stream going. However, I did make a point to rhyme every other word. ABAB CDCD style. I carried that throughout the entire poem. In the event that the poem uses the same rhymes, is coincidental.
The poem was being aimed for 40 lines, and ended up being 60+ lines. So I feel that accomplished what it was aiming for.
In my extensive search for dates, I did come across the original narrative that bombed that started ST. I may do something with that. We'll see.
I ended work on this on 1-2-08.
I did the notes 1-3-08.