Comic Con

Paranoia Smith was the most exhausting, obnoxious, insufferable, skate-punk, tattooed, cross dressing poseur I ever met at a Comic Con.  Within a minute in this lunatic’s presence I wanted to rip off his head and crap down his neck.  He babbled incessantly (when he wasn’t ‘rapping’ or screeching heavy metal lyrics) and his fake blonde goatee and dreadlocks smelled like a port-a-potty.  He was one of those touchy-feely dudes who never let up.  Comic-Con-image-30He had a finger puppet named Yak Feces who insisted on probing all of my facial orifices.  And he simply could not convey any of his incomplete ‘ideas’ from a distance further than an inch from my nose with breath like the putrid steam at the edge of a volcano.  He was a wild eyed maniac with no self control….actually dribbled chaw juice on my shoe, then apologized as he hosed it off with urine…..

BUT, he bought one of my ridiculous ‘Blue-ish Freaks’ books just now and I love him for it.  We could be brothers.

Oh no! Next in line was Lisa, an enormous middle aged woman in a teeny-tiny Sailor Moon costume with bits bulging from under her adorable skirt that I didn’t know women even had.  I think her blue hair was her real hair.  “Could you sign mine?” she croaked like Jabba the Hut…and I was grinning (as she pulled out exact change) too horrified to look away from…this beautiful, elegant creature who loves my book.  I could have married her on the spot.

Next in line is…oh, sweet Jesus…..

***John brought our new book out to sell at the Philadelphia Comic Con last weekend.  It was brilliant.  He met so many talented, decent, cool people and artists and vendors…What a great time – and you would not believe how many books he sold (my mother told me we should have brought more…).  Wish I had been there.  -Marsha



Lester the Jester


Lester the Jester threw up his supper,                                                   emerging instead as a fool named Skupper                                                  who gagged on his guts as they spilled from his gob                                      expelling another named Bob,                                                                             who horked up a loogie of phlegm and bile,                                                        appearing at last as a Jester named Lyle                                                               who turned to his mates and stuck out his tongue saying,                         “Better off here… than out Lester’s bung.”

***This piece, from our new book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks”, is the one we chose as the backdrop/banner for our comicon table.  Come see us at our first show at The Great Philadelphia Comic Con, on April 22-24.  If you’re not in the area, please visit our website (link at top of page);  -Marsha 


Labyrinth-28      His dreams were frantic.  She was always just-out-of-reach and each time he caught a glimpse, she was further away than before as he chased her through the labyrinth of his anxiety.  He KNEW he was only dreaming…  he KNEW she lay right next to him, asleep…but he could neither escape any more than catch up to her.  And as his heart broke apart and crumbled to pieces for the one he had loved unconditionally, he realized that these pathetic dreams were better than his reality.  This was all he had left, so he relished in the chase each night…..for just one more night…and tried to remember all the good things they’d had for a few precious moments more…before she faded completely, leaving him alone in the labyrinth.

***Our poor friend Balthazar lost his cat recently…well, she’s not missing – we’re not out searching or anything – I mean, he had a falling out with his precious Miss Fuzzy Britches a few weeks ago and hasn’t been able to patch things up.  I wrote this little piece for them…though I don’t hold out much hope.  Meanwhile, Our new book is out.  Its beautiful and awful and available by following the link at the top/right to our site; .  -Marsha

Blue-ish Freaks

Blue-ish-cover-27 ***Our new book is finally out and available for sale at; (just use the link at the upper right).  Its also been a while since we posted a decent (horrible) Clown poem, so…  -Marsha

Blue-ish the Clown was a dangerous Freak,                                                  not just because of his looks, so to speak;                                                   True, both his legs were mismatched and lame                                           but neither were both of his arms quite the same.                                      So he scuttled about on his one giant hand                                               which dwarfed his oversized skull, understand?                                       Those weren’t the things, though, that made him a prick.               There was something much deeper and darker and sick.                    See, Blue-ish was closeted, Christian and white                                       from the Neo-con, fascist corporate right.                                                 Need I say anything more tonight?