TULIO19mx

I finished the sexytember challenge 2023, it was fun. This year I will not participate in the inktober challenge, instead I will participate in the drawtober challenge, I hope to finish it too!!!

https://www.newgrounds.com/bbs/topic/1527417/1

I just found out that George Perez passed away. And I found it out on: facebook TalonArt´s page:

https://www.facebook.com/TalonArt/photos/a.140446958139/10160246320118140/

And while 1983 may not be the beginning of my journey into geekdom, it is an important milestone. In the summer of that year, I was 10 years old and on some occasion I went out with my father to accompany him and I remember that he bought me a comic or as in those days we called them "a story".

It was not the cover scene that attracted me ( quite shocking, actually by today's standards), but the art that was represented on it. I was even more excited about the interior art... Aside from Robin the Boy Wonder, I didn't know any of the characters. I didn't know what was going on. Without the context of the previous issues, I didn't understand what was going on. But it didn't matter. I was blown away by the character design, storytelling, composition, and line work; specially the linework. I got hooked. After that day, I was a true fan of the comic, and while I loved the story, it was the art that really grabbed me. I wanted to draw like that. That was what I wanted to do with my life. That was the artist I wanted to be. The book was Editorial Novaro's Supercomic: Los Héroes Juveniles, now I know it was THE NEW TEEN TITANS #27 and the artist who changed my life one day in the summer of 1983 was George Perez.

Thank you George, for opening that door for me. And although you never met me, your influence on me is undeniable. You introduced me to a new world and showed me the path, a path I have traveled happily ever since, and so I dedicate these words to you: "TITANS TOGETHER!" #ripgeorgeperez

i.

step one

put the quarter in

prepare to beat your high score

morph into your second skin

joy comes from a joystick

or press of the buttons

mash 'em all at once

and can't nobody tell you nothin'

transform under neon lights

conquer every hurdle

whether you're as

piky-haired yellow kidor pizza-eating turtle

ii.

catch that Pac-Man fever

become an 8-bit junkie

it's more fun than a barrel

tossed at you by a monkey

find your magic sword & shield

to save Hyrule from doom

or use a Hundred Hand Slap

to prevent a Sonic Boom

prepare to hop

across the road

when the coast is clear

and finish any ninja

who says"Get Over Here"

iii.

zombies ate your neighbors

and there's no one else to save ya

so act like you're a Belmont

and this is Castlevania

defeat those Ghouls ‘n Goblins

every unholy creation

birthed from the sick minds

of the Umbrella Corporation

want the uprising televised?

you've got the solution

set it all to music

and it's a Dance Dance Revolution

iv.

you can brave the Dragon's Lair

or make Space Invaders bleed

but watch out

for that Asteroid

and stop the Centipede

you've got some dug to dig

you've got some toads to battle

there's bubbles to bobble

and snakes to roll ‘n' rattle

the time has come

you've leveled up

the power's flowin' in you

pull the flag down at the castle

save and then continue...

The power flowed into him, filling his lungs, spreading out in his blood like oxygen, and settling into the marrow of his bones. He felt himself smile in a way that he hadn't since he was a boy learning to cast his first spell. He had devoted decades to the study of magic, but now, now he was magic.

A glow lit the trees around him. He couldn't be sure if it was the setting sun, or if the glow came from his own skin. A beetle crawled on the ground nearby, seemingly unconcerned with what it had just witnessed, but yet its movements were in time with his heartbeat. A bird in the sky flapped its wings to the same rhythm.

A breeze plucked at his hair and clothes. He began to dance, slowly at first; he followed the wind, and the wind followed him. He moved faster, twirling and leaping, until even the fallen leaves were dancing around him. When he stopped, all was still.

He smiled again, and raised his arms to the sky. The first stars were visible. He watched them for a long time, and felt each twinkle as a tingle in his capillaries. By the time the sun rose, there was no trace of him.

Brothers and sisters, let me set the scene

for a nightmarish creature so foul & obscene

that penning this poem makes me want to scream,

but the timing is perfect — for it's Halloween.

So, if we must, let's just start at the top

of his oversized skull with his unruly mop

of so-called hair the no-color of dust

on a fissured scalp peeling & leaking out pus.

His locks wind 'round horns, they're teeming with germs,

and look more like the husks of a million dead worms.

You've heard of bats in the belfry?

Well, it's not just a phrase;

small ones nest in his curls to hide from the sun's rays.

One more word on his noggin, for this must be said:

it's ten times the girth of a normal-sized head.

And if I haven't yet made the case for distaste,

let's move to the horror this thing calls a face.

Skin's the color of pumpkins dying a slow death

or a failing sun breathing its very last breath.

Brows like hairy slugs perched on orangey dough

crown flat yellow eyes peeking out just below.

Those beady orbs nestled in pouches and folds

of flesh home to all sorts of fungus and molds.

I suppose that's a nose next up on the list,

but it's rotting & roaches peer out through the slits.

Lips: scaly twin creatures all coated in muck,

like two lizards who crawled in some mud and got stuck.

Yes, his mouth is a marvel of nature's mistakes.

He has not one tongue — he has twelve made of snakes.

Oh, that slithering nest-hole just can't resist

striking at themselves as they writhe and they hiss.

And it's best if we speak even less of his teeth,

but they're green as the serpents who sleep underneath.

Now, we've seen enough here, so we shall begin

to speak of the mess under his bulbous chin.

And what appears next is not what you'd expect,

but two giant flaps like his neck... ate his neck.

His dermis is saggy, his guts are all stored

in a carcass that's shaped like some mutated gourd.

Yet he wears tailored suits, expensive and fine

that cling to limbs clunky and elephantine.

At the end of each arm is a claw like a crab.

The horrid appendages pinch and they grab.

He keeps them well sharpened and shined to a sheen,

but they are so small they can hardly be seen.

This would be almost a humorous twist,

if only this beast didn't really exist.

His mountainous legs suffer from the same flaws,

capped off in feet as tiny as his claws.

His whole frame reeks of sulfur.

He's covered in grime.

He leaves a lingering trail of malodorous slime.

This journey, I know's been an unpleasant one.

Dear reader, hang in there. We are almost done.

He lives in the depths of an ill-smelling bog,

shrouded at all times in a venomous fog.

Lit by giant mushrooms

with an unearthly glow,

a sick, swampy kingdom where twisted things grow.

A pestilent monarch, he squats on his throne;

sips gallons of blood from a goblet of bone.

His subjects are legion, they flock to his side;

all manner of ghouls that the heart can't abide.

There's a pale hateful zombie,

who's bedecked in flies,

and humanoid shape that has fanged mouths for eyes.

There's a three-headed harpy who screams at the sun

and a man-eating frog that weighs nearly a ton.

One could spend forever

trying to describe

the monsters that make up his hideous tribe.

But our time draws to a close,

my stalwart friends.

Lock your doors, say your prayers —for this is THE END.