An Ode to FINAL CRISIS 1-28-09

Final Crisis 4The moon weeps as Darkseid gets in Turpin’s pants.

God bullets fired from the gun of Kirby shatter the illusions of shackling continuity for a new dawn of infinite confusion.

Darkened calculus suffocates hope;
Salvation in face painting gives purpose
To elementary school art teachers at last.

Horsedogs ride the night,
Their battle armor under a red son, 

A crimson beacon to warn the talking kitty cats
That cough hair balls of justice.

Boobies and boots,
A Marvel versus an El.
If only they didn’t fly,
Then Jello their battle would be bathed in.

The Rubik’s Cube of discord realigns the trinity
And bleeds through the parallel universe lava lamp.

The death of the Bat, 
Resurrection by a naked aborigine.

The Monitor’s world goes white,
All hail the 5th world. I think!?%

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