Goodbat Nightman
God bless all policemen
and fighters of crime,
May thieves go to jail
for a very long time.
They've had a hard day
helping clean up the town,
Now they hang from the mantelpiece
both upside down.
A glass of warm blood
and then straight up the stairs,
Batman and Robin
are saying their prayers.
* * *
They've locked all the doors
and they've put out the bat,
Put on their batjamas
(They like doing that)
They've filled their batwater-bottles
made their batbeds,
With two springy battresses
for sleepy batheads.
They're closing red eyes
and they're counting black sheep,
Batman and Robin
are falling asleep.
poem by Roger McGough
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Related quotes
My book is very wild. But you know during the period of BATMAN, that there were thousands of Batman and Robin costumes sold and these weren't just for kids.
Bruce Wayne is Batman. He became Batman the instant his parents were murdered. Batman needs Bruce, however hollow that identity feels to him from time to time. Bruce keeps Batman human.
quote by Kevin Conroy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A locator, father and son
The way this little brown boy places
Himself under a noonday sun
Is aesthetic, in such a way
That his black hat shadows
His eyes like he is batman
And his father so fond of
Him feels so happy like
He is his buddy robin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I want to be Robin to Bush's Batman.
quote by Dan Quayle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleepy Time Girl (Song) :
Sleepy time girl.She never gets her rest.
Sleepy time girl.She never does her best.
At anything!
Sleepy time girl.She's never on the ball.
Sleepy time girl.Her words! They're always
off the wall.
That little sleepy time girl.
Sleepy time girl.Sleepy time girl.
She's always late for school.
Sleepy time girl.
She never ever seems to care.
That little sleepy time girl..
Short-Song-Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1986,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Batman
i love the way you smile
your eyes are beautiful
your dark and mysterious
you see me as a person im not
your my best friend in the entire world
you helped me when i need someone
you stayed beside my side and pick me up through that dark hole i was falling through
im glad your happy with her
i want you to be happy
with whatever discion you make
i dont regret kissing you
i dont regret annything
i was happy
i havent been happy like that in a long time
batman, i love you
no one or anything will change that
batman
i love you
poem by Jalisa Ann Curtin
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Batman And Catwoman
My glass is half-full and yours is half-empty,
But nature had put us together on this scale of love;
And like 'Batman and Catwoman',
We need to show to others how true love feels.
Take a catwalk and come to me with your love,
Down the stream where the water flows;
City-life is killing people like,
The female body lying next to me;
For i've only three days to prepare for your love.
Yahweh dried up the waters of the Red Sea and,
They passed through to the other side of the land;
So like the 'Batman and Catwoman';
Do give me the feelings of love tonight.
She got off the donkey and went to the spring of water,
But i will sleep with you like a virgin tonight;
Because the mosquitoes do not know my name and,
You will still remember the day that you stood neked before me.
'Batman and Catwoman',
Your eyes have seen me and have met my love;
And your legs do walk to my house always,
Because i am the one that your haert needs.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Gotham City (with english version)
Gotham City
Mas é preciso ser batman em gotham city,
É preciso ler gibi antigo e desfolhado,
Sendo morcego, não ser vampiro, ser beat,
Besouro caindo nos ouvidos deflorados.
Mas é preciso ser batman em gotham city,
Roncando o motor turbinado do bat-carro,
Gostar de Liszt, saber tudo e tudo cite!
Tomar copos de leite e não fumar cigarro!
Sendo o batman enfrento o coringa e o pingouin,
A sensual mulher gato que me arranha as pernas
E o peito e declara estranha paixão por mim!
Ter sempre ao meu lado um Robbin longe a tavernas;
É preciso ser batman em gothan city enfim,
Pra a luta ao som do rock, morar em caverna!
Gotham City
But is crave to be batman in gotham city,
Is crave to read old and defoliate comics,
Being bat, not to be vampire, being beat,
Beetle falling in the deflorated ears.
But is crave to be batman in gotham city,
Snoring the turbining motor of the bat-car,
To like Liszt, to know everything and everything cite!
To take milk cups and not to smoke cigarette!
Being batman I face coringa and pingouin,
the sensual woman cat that scratches me legs
and the chest and declares stranger passion for me!
To always have to my side a Robbin far the taverns;
She is crave to be batman in gothan city at last,
For the fight to the sound of the rock, to live in cave!
poem by Jayro Luna
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Night Crawler
Howling winds keep screaming round
And the rain comes pouring down
Doors are locked and bolted now
As the thing crawls into town
Straight out of hell
One of a kind
Stalking his victim
Don't look behind you
Nightcrawler
Beware the beast in black
Nightcrawler
You know he's coming back
Night Crawler
Sanctuary is being sought
Whispered prayers a last resort
Homing in its' cry distorts
Terror struck they know they're caught
Straight out of hell
One of a kind
Stalking his victim
Don't look behind you
Nightcrawler
Beware the beast in black
Nightcrawler
You know he's coming back
Night Crawler
As night is falling
The end is drawing near
They'll hear
Their last rites echo on the wind
Huddled in the cellar
Fear caught in their eyes
Daring not to move or breathe
As the creature cries
Fingernails start scratching
On the outside wall
Clawing at the windows
'Come to me' it calls
Atmosphere's electric
As it now descend the stairs
Hiding in the darkness
Is so futile from its glare
Death comes in an instant
As they hoped it would
Souls ascend to heaven
While it feasts on flesh and blood
Straight out of hell!
One of a kind.
Stalking its victim
song performed by by Judas Priest from Painkiller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robin Redbreast
Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our Thrushes now are silent,
Our Swallows flown away, --
But Robin's here, in coat of brown,
With ruddy breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin singing sweetly
In the falling of the year.
Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian Princes,
But soon they'll turn to Ghosts;
The scanty pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough,
It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,
'Twill soon be Winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And welaway! my Robin,
For pinching times are near.
The fireside for the Cricket,
The wheatstack for the Mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow, --
Alas! in Winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.
poem by William Allingham
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One Hundred Years
Now, Batman, Prophet Batman, a hundred years ago,
He looked upon this land and found it good.
"'Tis the place to build a village," bold Batman said, and so
They straight began - or so I've understood
To fling rude huts together by the swamp and by the stream,
To make beginning here and then for Batman's daring dream.
But Batman, Prophet Batman, was quite a modest cove;
His vision sought no far and fabled goals.
A village he could picture here; but no vast treasure trove
A mighty city of a million souls
A miracle arising by the swamp and by the stream
In the hundred years that followed on one pioneering dream.
Now I, far lesser prophet, stand here to view the scene
Tall spire, proud dome athwart a sunny sky,
This far-flung city basking by many a garden green
Yet hopelessly I fail to prophesy.
While earth holds threat and promise both, and high hope walks with dread,
Then who may claim the vision of one hundred years ahead?
Shall yet a greater miracle arise beside the stream,
When wiser plans of wiser men prevail
Some shining City of Content beyond man's boldest bream?
Or must a world's mad frenzy end the tale,
And, in a hundred years from now, another village rise
To shield indomitable man ‘neath ruin-fretted skies?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Locked in a Box
I'm in a locked box
and I'm searching
for the key.
The key that
will set me free.
But wait this locked box
is like no other...
the locked box I'm
in is not made from
cardboard, glass,
wood, plastic or
leather.
The locked box I’m in
is made by an alloyed created
by my own hands.
My mind is the locked
box that I'm in.
The bottom is made from
the ghetto streets
I grew up on.
And one side of the box
is made from the violence
and abuse I suffered
at home.
Now another side is made from
the drugs and alcohol I used
to escape.
While another side is made of
my own self hate.
Now the last side of the locked
box is made from the things
that used to be my hopes
and dreams,
and the lid of this locked box
is made from my nightmares
and screams.
Now, I’m scratching the walls
trying to set myself free.
Because I can feel this
lock box closing in on me.
Closing in so tight it is taking
away my breath.
This locked box is becoming
my resting place after my death.
Wait a minute death may be
the key.
For if I die I will be free.
I'm in a locked box.
Coming Down Hard On Crime
They're coming down hard on crime.
And this you can believe.
All eyes will open wide.
And deceit and thieves,
Will cease to be.
So hold your head erect!
And know this will happen soon.
And sing a happy song.
Knowing we'll soon be crook free!
Come from behind those bushes,
Children.
Come...
Come sing along with me!
The 'boogeyman' is gone.
They're coming down hard on crime.
Sing...
('Coming down hard on crime...')
And this you can believe.
('This we can believe...')
I think you've got it.
All eyes will open wide
('Our eyes are open wide...
And deceit and thieves have ceased to be.')
Very nice!
Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')
Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')
YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES.
('DECEIT and THIEVES')
Together and raise our voices high!
YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES...
HAVE CEASED
TO
BE!
Marvelous children!
Wasn't that a 'happy tune'?
NOTE:
Doesn't this remind you of 'something' from...
Let's see...
The Sound of Music?
Yes!
When the hills became alive with it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bottles To The Ground
You know it when its over
Doors are closing feel the
Sober staring at you
You better take
One last good look
One more round and
Its bottles to the
Ground smashing
Of the glass what a supersonic sound
You gotta pull the
Plug when its time
To die bottles to
The ground
Theres a suitcase
On the sidewalk
Theres a record in
A milkcrate, shell be
Staying youll be
Trowing wiskey
Over one lip
One more round
Then its bottle
To the ground
Smasing of the
Glass a perfect
Imperfect sound
You gotta pay the
Piper when the rats
Are gone whoa whoa
All bottles
To the ground
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Batman Combats Oscar Wilde
“Are you serious? ” Frederick asked.
“Yes, Oscar Wilde, the writer”, George Batman said. “We had a conversation in the park.”
“Oh”, said Frederick. “Is he not dead? ”
“We had a conversation in the park”, Batman said.
“I see”, said Frederick.
“You remember that in The Picture of Dorian Gray Wilde argues that books cannot be moral or immoral, only well-written or badly written”, Batman commented.
“So? ”
“Well, I disagreed.”
“And why is that? ” Frederick inquired.
“Look. Wilde confuses content with style. A book with a moral message can either fail or excel in its stylistic presentation, and so can a book with immoral content.”
“I see”, said Frederick. “So what happened? ”
“Nothing special”, Batman said. “We continued to argue. I told Oscar that I am not impressed with some of his witty dictums.”
“Oh”, Frederick said. “What did Wilde say? ”
“He wanted to hear examples”, Batman said.
“Did you give him? ”
“Yes, of course. I started with the ‘The truth is rarely pure, and never simple’, from The Importance of Being Earnest.”
“What is wrong with that? ” Frederick asked.
“I told Wilde that his purified statement is self-contradictory because it is so simple that it cannot be true”.
“I see”, Frederick said. “What else? ”
“Well”, said Batman, “I also told him that I disagreed with the aphorism that ‘Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood’. This is a derogatory and false comment on the psychology of women, belittling female intelligence and dignity. Besides, not only that men also want to be loved, but love and understanding can be overlapping as well.”
“What did Wilde say? ”
“I don’t know. He is dead”.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The Dark Knight Rises
When Gotham needs its hero back,
He's waiting in the wings,
The Dark Knight rises dressed in black
To bring all that he brings...
Back in the game, opponents fall,
He conquers one-by-one,
Such that for Gotham he gives all,
Until the battle's done...
The Batman's played the game before,
Surviving day-by-day,
To scale the heights, even the score,
His martial arts display...
He bides his time, then strikes so fast,
Somehow to turn the tide,
Such that for Gotham danger's past
And peace can then abide...
He sacrifices life and limb,
In fact, his very soul,
In hopes that though the future's grim,
He strives yet gains control...
Beware if in his way you stand,
He knows what he must do,
Such that for Gotham things are planned
So Batman captures you!
One man can make a difference, friends,
One hero standing tall,
One champion who comprehends,
Defending great and small...
When Batman's legend comes to mind,
He holds his head up high,
Such that new courage he will find
Before his last goodbye...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Batman
He's Batman but his true identity is Bruce Wayne.
Some people think he's a hero while others think he's insane.
He protects Gotham City from people who are a disgrace.
He protects them from the Joker, the Penguin and even from Two-Face.
The Riddler just struck and Batman has to fight.
He's the Caped Crusader and he's the Dark Knight.
poem by Randy Johnson
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Vespers
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.
God bless Mummy. I know that's right.
Wasn't it fun in the bath to-night?
The cold's so cold, and the hot's so hot.
Oh! God bless Daddy - I quite forgot.
If I open my fingers a little bit more,
I can see Nanny's dressing-gown on the door.
It's a beautiful blue, but it hasn't a hood.
Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good.
Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed,
And pull the hood right over my head,
And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small,
And nobody knows that I'm there at all.
Oh! Thank you, God, for a lovely day.
And what was the other I had to say?
I said 'Bless Daddy,' so what can it be?
Oh! Now I remember it. God bless Me.
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Sleepy Time Time
By jack bruce and janet godfrey
Im a sleepy time baby, a sleepy time boy.
Work only maybe, life is a joy.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Well have a sleepy time time.
Sleepy time time, sleepy time all the time.
Asleep in the daytime, asleep at night.
Life is all playtime; working aint right.
Chorus
I have my sunday, that aint no lie.
But on monday morning comes my favorite cry.
Chorus
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passing The Inkblot Test
a butterfly is a butterfly
is a butterfly
and batman is batman
and the clown is nothing but a clown
do not make the bat fly
do not let the clown splash in melting butter
and just be the man that you are
stay there do not float in air
it is just an ink that blots in its reflection
it is just a piece of paper on your hand
it is just stationery
do not give movements where movements are not there
always remember newton
an object at rest will always be at rest
and an object in motion will always be in motion
unless acted upon by an unequal and opposite force.
stay calm, now take your glass of water and then
swallow your medicine.
how can you ever faill this test again?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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