What would Peggy Carter do?
She’d happily fight anyone who’d gotten in her way
What would peggy carter do?
She wouldn’t listen to what the haters have to say
She would catch all of the bad guys and she’d do it looking great
Peggy Carter is my hero, and she’s why I’m here today
“What Would Peggy Carter Do,” an anthem from Kate Nyx.
Generals ain’t easy to love and they’re harder to
hold
They care more about the next battle than diamonds or gold
DeathStar destroyers and Amazon Heroes
And Dora Milaje are proof
You may not understand her, an’ she might die young
But she’ll shake the world to it’s roof.
Mamas, raise all your princesses up to be Generals
Instruct them in tactics and honor and pride
How to stand fast when they’re on the right side.
Mamas raise all your princesses up to be Generals
‘Cos they’ll take on the world and they’ll fight like a girl
To save the ones that they love
Generals take lovers who know that they go where they have to
Where the troops need them, and where the foe gathers to fight
Empires tremble when they take the field and then Fall in their moment of triumph
Cause they don’t know surrender, and if they retreat
The trap it leads into holds tight
Mamas, raise all your princesses up to be Generals
Instruct them in tactics and honor and pride
How to stand fast when they’re on the right side.
Mamas raise all your princesses up to be Generals
‘Cos they’ll take on the world and they’ll fight like a girl
To save the home that they love
What a vision of darkness, creeps in with desperate sharpness, lecherous grafting of knowledge to my young mortal subconscious.
Words writ by breath of the ancients, wiser than even the pagans, or the wizened old men with wands and white beards that once were ensconced in my pages.
Obfuscated by doom, and laden with arduous tasks are the pathways laid out for the lot of us.
Mages and witches and princes and maids, pages with inches of space for mistakes.
I am the beast, I am the light, I am the blighted being cursed with sight
I am the god who created a world, I am leviathan, the girl
I can do it on my own, but you’re a hero after all, and we may think our sacrifice is just but pride comes right before the fall.
The cascade of rain on my needles, a hand grasping tight to the bottle, of a woman with untapped potential, the ennui of too late and too little.
Our failures have made, a bridge for success, if our game is half played, then who’s played the rest of it?
Heroes we were in a universe doomed, soldiers in battles best left un-exhumed.
I am the beast, I am the light, I am the blighted being cursed with sight
I am the god who created a world, I am leviathan, the girl. And-
I can do it on my own
we can do it on our own
Aut viam inveniam aut faciam (x2)
( @axonsandsynapses mentioned that The Boxer was secretly a song about Clint Barton, so then of course I had to remake it to not-so-secretly be about Clint Barton.)
to the tune of Paul Simon’s The Boxer:
I am just a poor boy,
though my story’s seldom told.
I have squandered my resistance
for a pocket full of mumbles such are promises,
all lies and jest.
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
and disregards the rest.
When my father left us orphans
I was no more than a boy.
Left in the homes of strangers,
my brother and I fighting back
and running scared.
Laying low,
stumbling in the carnies’ quarters
where the lost and wandering go,
learning all the secrets only they would know.
Lie-la-lie…
With but my bow and wits about me,
I went looking for a job.
The work was dirty,
so much blood shed in the name of
power and greed.
Yet, as soon I’d see,
arrows shot for a man’s country
make the blood flow just as free.
Lie-la-lie…
Now the years are rolling by me,
Filled with anger, fear and glee.
I am less dead than I once was,
and more dead than I’ll be,
but that’s not unusual.
No it isn’t strange.
After changes upon changes
we are more or less the same.
After changes we are more or less the same.
Lie-la-lie…
Then I’m laying out my weapons
and wishing I was gone.
Going home,
where the New York City battles
aren’t bleeding me,
leading me, going home.
In the clearing stands the archer
and a fighter by his trade.
And he carries the reminders
of every fight that laid him down,
or cut him till he cried out
in his anger and his shame,
“I am leaving, I am leaving!”
But the archer still remains.
Welcome to Eden
My Green little world
Be careful what you touch, it bites
Beauty can be deadly
So why don’t you come here
Let me wrap you up in Ivy tonight
“Welcome to Eden,” Poison Ivy’s song from Leslie Hudson’s comic book concept album, The Redhead League.
Superheroes are people, too
Give those guys the same respect they give to me and you
Let them have some privacy when the day is through
Because superheroes are people, too
Wonder Woman can shower on her own
Stop asking Catwoman if she will “crack your whip”
Zatanna can wear pants if she wants to
A telephoto lens is not a relationship… Peter Parker
“Superheroes Are People, Too,” an important PSA from the PDX Broadsides.
Welcome to The Redhead League
We’re loosely a collective of
The best and brightest redheads far and wide
Personal objective and collaborative fire
Are the values we espouse, come on inside
“Secrets Liars & Spies” by Leslie Hudson, from her concept album “The Redhead League.” Leslie explains in the album description:
The Redhead League is a concept album based on 9 female redheaded comic book characters: Red Sonja, Medusa, Teela, Jean Grey, Mary Jane Watson, Scarlett, Poison Ivy, April O’Neil & Black Widow.
They’re not superheroes or supervillains. They’re passionate, powerful and occasionally poisonous so don’t piss them off. They’ve got swords and guns and prehensile hair, telekinesis and martial arts expertise, lipstick lips and latex, and they don’t mind getting their hands dirty.
This manipulation buries my twisted truth
This modification carries my future youth
So I shall be what I’ve become
Femme fatale
“Femme Fatale,” from Leslie Hudson’s concept album about fictional redheads. I picked one of the better-known characters to post; this one is about Black Widow.
