Eating Badly with diabetes is a Suicide Mission.
I know, because Artur Anczarski, says so.
He is the Prophet, he is the Saint,
And nothing he says, is ever quaint
(it simply ain’t)
As for exercise and diet, ‘you don’t do either!’
(which is not – anymore – entirely true, but it WAS, once)
Explode my mind with FRAGILE DELICACY, why don’t you, brother?
(If he hadn’t, I never would have moved, he doesn’t sugarcoat the cake, he throws it out
And gives me meat, instead)
What is sweet in the mouth, is bitter in the belly (a big one).
Eating badly. Never worth it.
Categories:
artur, appreciation, depression, food, introspection,
Form: Prose Poetry
Though days are long and nights longer by far,
and seconds pass while hours slip slowly by;
I glimpse the long gone past through door ajar
to those golden moments my spirit flies.
Hand in hand loosely locked we two glide
o'er pebbled paths and rutted rambling roads;
no draconic vision belays our stride
for in our hearts there sings a ribald ode.
Of Artur and his lovely Guinevere,
ensconced in castle, turret's flags unfurled;
who boldly bask inside the glow and glare,
all round this cameo the conscience curls.
Oh, let all mankind gallantly aspire,
to these lofty heights above man's desire.
Categories:
artur, adventure, allegory, devotion, hope,
Form: Sonnet
Though days are long and nights are longer far,
and seconds rush, though hours slink slowly by:
I glimpse the past's light through a door ajar
as to these golden moments spirits fly.
As hand in hand, loose locked, we smoothly glide,
over pebbled paths and ramble-rutted roads,
no fearsome visions do belay our stride,
for in our hearts there beats a ribald ode.
Of Artur and his lovely Guinevere,
ensconced in castle turrets, flags unfurled:
who bask boldly in love's glow and glare,
about such reflection my memories curled.
Aye, let all mankind gallantly aspire,
to lofty heights like these above desire.
Categories:
artur, inspirational
Form: Sonnet