Best Muscle Poems
Hey there, Muscle Men, please come my way
I’m moving out on Labor Day
Packing’s made me a muscle lady
Biceps are growing on this baby
Incredible Hulks are welcome here
Superman seems to have disappeared
Consider the workout you’ll receive
A hopeful woman wants to believe
That those who can lift barbells so high
Could stack and haul, making this move fly
Speed like The Flash is what I need most
Flex muscles, don’t just stand there and boast
Batman, the cave needs to be cleared out
So bring your friends; give Robin a shout
Trapped in time, Achilles defends Troy
I pray the Lord sends a modern boy
Who wants to help a gal in distress?
The Holy Spirit brings my request
My aching bones would welcome a hand
From one who fancies himself a he-man
Vehicles, muscled cars were built, to be fast;
creatures of iron and steel;
the wildest beasts.
In the day of manufactured power, Lynx and Jaguar raced; thunderbirds flew low to ground with wings,
as fast as, a road runner.
The mighty Chevy of “57” dreams;
leant compassions ear to young Edsel,
when he failed his popularity test.
Lightening swift, these darts did fly;
racing down, route “66” back then,
the pride supported its own.
Metal, mega-mammals, like all others;
live and die their last wheeze and cough,
recorded by the crusher.
Those who signed away body parts;
the donors left a re-built legacy.
Beautiful and powerful, as their ancestors;
legacy lives on but, route “66” is a much milder path.
In Heaven’s showroom;
lion and lamb lie, side-by-side;
these are the souls of the metal mammals.
One day while working in my back yard,
I tripped and fell and hit the ground hard.
Backing up with the hose I tripped over a boulder.
I fell really hard and injured my shoulder.
Thought it would get better, it's just a bad bruise,
But it just got worse and I wasn't enthused.
I went to the doctor who said with a grin,
Well, my dear, seems you're at it again.
You've torn the muscles in your left shoulder.
You must be more careful 'cause you're getting older.
Heat treatments and therapy and pills for the pain,
The mobility's returning but no pain no gain.
Slow gentle stretches are helping it seems.
Oh where's that young girl who could do anything.
It happened in Summer now Winter is here.
How long will this last, forever I fear.
Don't feel like walking or playing with pets.
The less mobile I am the worse the pain gets.
It seems even writing's a thing of the past.
How long, oh how long, Lord, How long will this last.
Thou shalt not covet
Thy neighbor's wife, nor his ass...
YOU mean his Corvette?
MIND MUSCLE
Steroid cocktails, metallic flavor, Viagra rush;
Mind numbing mush!
Sightless vision, cloudy comprehension, silent violence, whimpering misogyny; a blood-curdling hush…
Nervous perspiration, brain freeze, lactic acid rush; Gray matter atrophy flush! Dissipating oxygen accompanied by synapses firing twinges!
Amnesiac causing binge; constricting pyro nerve ending singed; Ascend to the black hole rush…
Epidermal twitches, vitamin E glitch, inhale and exhale switch, Marauding biceps, involuntary tick…, Bulging disc, brain-teasing peroxide, attention deficit; Word nerd… Hard body… Flex and discern… Secret genius…?
Mind Muscle...
Melvin “Chief” Lars 2/23/04 2:10 pm
10 reps of Haiku curls
10 reps of Irish Ballad presses
3X5 paragraphs of trenchant prose
5X Lyrical lunges
Last 5 minutes: Free range editing gut check
and then buzzing starts below skin
shocks shoot along veins
I hold my arm
a different pain today
it buckles the knee
grinds the shoulder
it burns the elbow
gnaws the hip
I rub my back
a deep breath and sigh
ricochets ribcage-aches like children
playing at pinball machines
another new pain today
another old pain tomorrow
the everywhere everyday unsurprising surprise
and a spasm grips within muscle
**** lies zing constipation
nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
colorectal obstruction
without wasted doubt,
that malodorous,
malevolent malady
analogous to uranus
clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
efforts break loose,
the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
desperate derriere plea
for proctologist sought
to relieve constipation
equipped with a special
"J" shaped, hooked,
and designed dowel
in an effort
to pry stoppage
jamming up human cloaca,
where rock solid stubborn
immovable turd emits foul
gaseous emanations accompanied
with ass a nine growl
followed by red hot,
fiery excruciating spasms
shooting jagged pain
inducing yours truly to access,
the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,
would be pleasant reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
thence finding me
resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
which wrought nothing,
no pain did re: leave
me bummed out bum,
but veins snapping,
popping, and crackling,
oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
gallons of perspiration,
while lower gastrointestinal
agonizing torture didst cleave
entire abdominal
area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
and feeble poem,
I could not achieve.
Incantations swirl in the muddy waters and summon those who hear it to leave their homes and come to the rivers edge.
They immerse themselves in something no one can touch, but cannot help but feel.
This is the place where dreams die, only to be reborn into legends.
Heart Muscle
I. (in Laments)
The heart is a muscle they say. Well this muscle is tired when overused. A muscle is comprised of many molecules. The molecules weigh more than FAT. The muscle when tired is weak. When awake it is strong! Well the heart is tired and feels like death. The muscle has been neglected for pure carbohydrates. The carbohydrates are a quick source of energy; however, this quick energy source is only good for short-term gains. It is not a beer that calms the muscle down. It is a fire that melts the marsh mellow to liquid. Tired to all holy hell is the muscle. Why Mr. Lights of the roof is this muscle tired. After a long time the heart has given too much. The heart has not helped itself gain anything.
II. (Largo tempo)
The valve is closing. The pressure of the blood flow is going. Blue blood is now here. Cold, dead, muscle. This is the end of my human life. My muscle is gone. I only have a skeleton as a former shell of myself. My spirit has a form in the afterlife; a form of no constraints, still a form with rhythm and blues.
III. (Bb Blues pulse =120)
The end has come. The wind is my friend. I am the ghost. I am the spirit. I see others joining my ranks.
The heart is now a dead muscle.
Muscle Memory
Looking in the mirror,
I am getting older;
the loss of muscle mass
Sink-holing the skin
with pockmarks and the sagging
of my triceps and hamstrings
shows me so.
Ten pounds for every ten years, they say.
With such drastic loss of muscle memory
I soon forget how to crawl.
darkened frustration
explosions
fighting for a past
©6/22/2018
for Magicicada 13 – Body and Mind Poetry Contest
She's black and sleek
And strong not weak,
She's loud and fast
When you hit the gas,
Her tires profile low
When heated up they make her go,
Put her up in fifth, her highest gear
She's a 4.6, with an 8 cylinder,
In her red leather seats a black steering wheel
Speed is the adrenelin, today you want to feel,
She turns the corners and hugs the road
And never exceeds to carry her load,
With the windows down and the rush of air
You can feel it swirling through your hair,
This is where you want to be
Meet my Mustang...Fast4 50
I've sat here and thought about muscle cars
Big beefy motors that roar and tyres smokin' hot
And when you see a movie they are the cars of the stars
When the dream sequences come they are the shot
Their colours are red and black as a matter of fact
The leather upholstery is just worn in enough to show
And these are the cars that count - that's the fact, Jack
So hitch up your trousers and know they're the go.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The relentless pain instantly consumed me,
Throwing my body into check
I yearned only for permission to be free
I instantaneously became a wreck,
The Friday that I injured my neck.