Today, without charge or payment, NaPo poets were to write a poem involving a “superhero” (a fictional hero having extraordinary or superhuman [as in not human] powers).

Actually, and indirectly, I’ve already quasi done this. But is not a superhero (SH) a matter of opinion?

What’s My Measure?

Superhero (SH), Man! Impressive!!
How good are you? How real?
How many followers you got?
Seventy-four million “yeas” gets you funded,
your lawyers and other whores paid as well.

What do you call Batman and Robin
after they got run over by a … never mind.
Then, Rock-in Robin came bopping in—

When the Dell Comics (Marvel?) boys called
wardrobe for a masked sidekick for the real
Caped Crusader. Shazam!

Batman sales doubled, thanks to Robin.
The value of America’s superheroes
took a new low bow but made high book.

Robin aged-up from (tweet, tweet, tweet)
and morphed into superhero: Nightwing,
when that role wasn’t confused with,
or filled by a morphed Superman.

Yeah, Babe, it’s all about cold, hard sales—
product endorsements, shoe sales,
pizza stores, and insurance coverage
(and now bibles, for Christ’s sake).

Is there anything in this country
not all about, and measured with, money?
Is that our reality? TBF, even Wikipedia
and self-pubbed twit poets (like me) need money.

Is wealth and value our true measure?
Are our real SH’s Bezos, Musk, Gates,
Zuckerberg, and Buffet? Even God
seems to constantly need more money.

Look both ways and wonder where your money goes.
Mind the gaps for anything that makes us feel better,
anything that will push product out the door.