Long Biceps Poems
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.
Palpable
fear lurks
a mystery
in the Air
a certain
eerie feel
suspects
an killers
can come
anywhere
The strike
is invisible
no tools or
weapon no
no trace no
fngerprints
It’s in thin air
creeps ..
shudder... horror
Now everyone wears masks
All are Suspects All are Culpable
Three new cases in the neighborhood
Death comes slow. is inevitable. No cure
Norms have changed. Hiding face is civil
Cannot trust None. Keep Social Distancing
At least two arms length. Barriers are drawn
Police Judiciary Governments are all clueless
Doctors Nurses collapsing on desk ...Helpless
Cut off all people from people or All Are DEAD
SURE. There is no cure. Prevent, escape, delay
Every breath- A killer rests...................bottled
What did I just inhale ? ..........................broken
...................................................................m
You will not even know ....................................e
Till a laser on forehead ....................................n
.
The city never sleeps............................a
byline, we were told ...........................tiny
a happening place.............................prayer
young in sinews ...............................of hope
a big bucket list...............................kindles in
so much to fulfill .............................good faith
before we kicked.............................in the belief
nothing be missed...........................that the earth
Buy whatever sold............................will hear us heal
exclude deep sleep............................itself. Eventually
rest can be delivered............................Good prevails.
In your home cave now.............................Amen !
time to reflect recover. recoup
.
Amitabh feels the world is not going to be the same again.
Now...
Yoga gurus have shut their shop . All ashrams are closed.
We are told to meditate from home take online classes
Sit in lotus pose. Padmasana. and pray..Pisses me off
None has the balls to defy curfew...all bars closed
Sportsmen...gym goers...flexing biceps...men !!
The only party in town ...hold your breath..
are for drinking of Cow urine...YES.
They say it is a cure.
Raise a toast to - GauMutra
All are invited ! At least they are showing some balls .
After the storm, my brother
(all gangly knees and elbows)
bore the brunt of its ferocious aftermath.
Every day after school
I watched his wiry biceps bulge a little
as his handsaw scritched against the tree
which had fallen diagonally across our front yard.
I witnessed the violence of metal on wood,
the violence of The King of the Mountain’s smirk
as he too watched, his greedy eyes
taking in my brother’s razor sharp collar bone,
with jaw set in furious concentration.
This imposed punishment was meant to goad my brother,
meant to tempt him to rage
so that the next time the stepdad slugged him
he would feel justified, holy even.
Kneeling on scratchy couch to watch
I scrunched my shoulders,
Folding into myself like an accordion,
gathering myself up to make of me something smaller;
I pressed my knees together
wrapping my arms around them
and lowered my head,
waiting for the sky to rain trees
with swollen trunks, and branches thrust downward
as if warding off a sickening impact with earth.
My brother, it seems,
must be punished for the crime of
his existence;
for this the stepdad’s eyes shone bright,
bright as the heavy duty flashlights
he begrudgingly loaned my brother
so he could work far into the night.
His eyes fairly burned with lust—
The lust of sadism’s glee.
I saw him lick his lips;
You’d have thought he’d conjured up this
Columbus Day Storm all by himself
for the sole purpose
of proving to my brother
that he had no right
to co-exist with him in the same universe.
I watched until my eyes burned
and my head ached dully
and my brother, sweating and chilled,
laid down his saw
swiped his arm across his forehead,
and straightening up, met my wary gaze
with the scoured look
of shame whittled down into hatred,
sawn away into stumpy pieces like an old tree trunk.
After the storm my brother cleaned up nature’s wrath.
He stood a little taller and his eyes, when they met his abuser’s,
burned unflinching.
After the storm we feigned memory loss
Pretended that nothing had shifted in our family dynamic.
We sat down to meals silent and repressed and picked up our forks
as if the stepdad hadn’t just won a major battle,
as if my brother’s days in that household were not numbered.
I used to like barbells, enjoyed pumping iron,
my Nautilus* gym was one happy environ.
Those posters of 6-packs and marbled biceps
inspired me to start counting carbs, pounds, and reps.
My trainer would coax, "hold as long as you can!"
Doing deadlifts I felt like a WAS a dead man
The kettlebell, medicine ball - hated those,
since dropping 'em both on my poor little toes.
My dad-bod and willpower soon parted ways,
after only 1 set, I was shell-shocked for days
My back hurt, my knees ached, I'd injured my hips,
after grimacing nonstop, I'd sprained both my lips.
Oy! The sharp pain that shoots
through my quads, delts and glutes...
Now my game plan is shifting
no more power lifting.
To planks, it's "no thanks",
I'm expunging all lunging.
I feel stabs in my abs,
there's a hex on my pecs
and my lats shriek like bats.
When I tweak my oblique
I am sore to the core...
and I want it no more.
The rowing machine is no longer my scene
I loathe those squats lots and I hate crunches bunches.
Do sit-ups or push-ups? Do jump-ups or chin-ups?
I'm more inclined now to do lots of "I-give-ups".
My doc tried convincing me I'd be less tired?
I'm questioning how that poor man's brain is wired!
I felt half exhausted just WATCHING staff clean
the ellipticals, treadmills, and stair-climb machine.
Then... I found when I stood on the locker room scale
That my plan to lose weight was a sad epic fail!
I'm done! I have finished my very last burpee -
I just want a hot dog and super-size Slurpee.
What happened to wanting to feel fit and well?
When it came to workouts, I was just a dumbbell.
I've resolved now to walk more, or swim a few laps
maybe jog, ride my bike, play some tennis, take naps.
That's right, getting plenty of rest seems so plain,
it appears the most challenging muscle to train ...
is the brain.
* Nautilus is a brand of gym equipment
written 2 Oct 2022
In this world of realization the bodybuilder acknowledges that he was in a past life
and is now a warrior god. She the bodybuilder was and is a warrior goddess. Their body
crave the inner strength and beauty which beholds the bodybuilder physique.The awakening
bodybuilder disciplined and commanding the body to undergo intensity and pain, pain and
pleasure there is no separation of the two like yin and yang. Bodybuilder pushing past
his comfort zone forcing his muscles to grow like iron clad steel.
Biceps,triceps and deltoid region chiseled, sculpted and solid like granite rock.
Conditioning the body streamlining physically and mentally. Bodybuilder imaging a mental
picture a sign that reads zero fat tolerance zone. Bodybuilder determined to drop the
weight,drop the zeros and become heros. The life of the bodybuilder is unique refreshed
and anticipating the next day to be able to run quicker,faster,harder than the day
before.Wings attached to the heels of the bodybuilders feet.The sweating and pain
sensation will soon pass,moments later the second wind follows it gives relief and will
energize the bodybuilder atlas!
The concentration the bodybuilder endures lifting heavy weights, building muscle mass
sweating delivering results with astonishing feats of strength.
The bodybuilder takes their stance their place in life,walking tall with giants
taking leaps of faith,along side of "Samson" legs built like marbel stone pillars.
Mentoring with "Hercules" stewardship over ones body temple.
Deeper than art form,natural beauty of the human anatomy.Richer than flaunting egos or
misunderstood concepts.Dwelling within beats the heart and instinct of a lion.
The bodybuilder, The bodybuilder building his success upon it's foundation
"self preservation is the first rule and law in nature". A higher standard of living a
sacred trust bestowed upon the bodybuilder.
Form:
I miss the old time monster movies where the insects ruled the day,
Where disaster resulted from a mishap with a disintegrator ray.
Unleashing the wrath of nature by causing the insects to expand,
Proving to us once again that the scientists are out of hand.
The military would be activated before they’d answered all the hows,
And the energy beam that they created made roaches the size of cows.
Then a giant deadly mantis terrorized Washington D.C. one day,
And finally taught the congressmen just how it is you prey.
Enormous hairy spiders are in the subway and on the track,
Webbing people in giant cocoons and saving them for a snack.
There was always a beautiful woman with a bod and brains to boot,
And you knew that the hero would save her with his manly chest hirsute.
Because even though he said something to her just to raise her ire,
You could tell that between the two of them there burned a raging fire.
As she works in her lab late at night the bugs come looking for their meals,
She tries to get away but she can’t run too fast while wearing her high heels.
What was there left for her to do but to freeze and start her screaming,
The hero saves her in the nick of time with a smile that was redeeming.
She’d develop a serum to reverse the horror that stares them in the face,
But he was the only one who could deliver it and save the human race.
The combination of her brains and his last ditch daring do,
Would ultimately serve to save the day and lead to kissing too.
They’d fall into each other’s arms as his tattered shirt reveals,
His blood stained bulging biceps and the love for her he feels.
And just before the credits role “The End” comes up on the screen,
Then a tiny vial falls off the lab bench and a question mark is seen.
They don’t make them like that any more but why I just can’t say,
Possibly because tastes have changed and now good taste rules the day.
to be a single woman in
america & aging to boot,
one must have breasts that sing to
the air (that never fall, that never
sag, that never do anything but
what the magazines show on
their covers).
to be a single woman in america
& aging, one must have an ass that
is firm (never dropping, never getting
too big, never getting too small,
always looking perfect in the tightest
of clothes, never doing a thing but
what the magazine covers say).
to be a single woman in america &
aging, one must have lips so lush that
they make one dream of the juiciest
fruits---they must have eyes that sparkle
like the sky or make one dream of the
deepest seas, all out of obligation to
whatever the magazine covers say.
to be a single male in america &
aging to boot,
one must have pockets that jingle,
that are flush with cash, that hold
a checkbook that never runs out of
checks---one must have a bank account
that makes Fort Knox look like a
Pez dispenser, so that they can make it
rain in the driest of places,
abiding by what all the magazines
say.
to be a single male in america & aging,
one must have property, one must have
assets, one must have a house in a different
area code gaining rental money, an apartment
in a tropical area, a mansion in the hills &
a place to “get away” from everything else,
hidden in an undisclosed location---
just like the television reveals,
just like all the playas in the videos &
the movies.
to be a single male in america & aging,
one must have a full head of bustling hair,
abs that one can scrub wet clothes on to
get off the dirt (or that can help whittle down
wood when one can’t find a knife),
one must have a gluts that can have quarters flipped
off them & biceps that can wrap around
& crush like the strongest python (bench twice
your weight, jump high, run fast, squat squat
squat & save the goddamn world)---
just like on the big screen.
Patrolling the jungle, testosterone surging, muscles finely tuned
He stumbles upon Jane swimming naked, in an open lagoon
This handsome stallion stopped dead, beside waters edge
Me Tarzan, she just smiles, stepping out by thin hedge
Standing before her, beads of sweat glisten his well toned chest
Long mane of hair, ripped biceps, a specimen, alpha the best
Spellbound as she kisses, hush my baby just let it happen
Breathing heavily, in submission, Tarzan oozing passion
Dynamic forces at play, in virgin jungle, latency is being woken
Pheromones, endorphins, gushing rivers, packing implosions
Arboreal creatures gaze down, with perplexed trepidation
Positions below change, moans turn into exclamations
Her statuesque body, his athletic frame, create perfect recipes
Both out of control, relentless, inexorable pain, and ecstasy
OH-EE-OH-EE-OH-EE-AW-EE-AW, Tarzan roars exultation
My God you beast! says Jane, an indirect translation
Not finished only getting started, she too is insatiable for more,
Naked in the wilderness, aesthetic bodies, primed to explore
With a Herculean physique, Tarzan’s pulse keeps on giving
Jane meets halfway, this goddess takes every collision
So marathons ensue, flesh upon flesh, tugging pushing delight
Lusting thrusting each other to a standstill, going until night
Tarzan swings her home, a safari campsite nestles nearby
Same time place tomorrow, you got a rematch big boy.
OH-EE-OH-EE-OH-EE-AW-EE-AW, triumphs with joy
By
David kavanagh
MAKE LOVE NOT WAR
Anchored stricken;
Home grow religion;
Borrowed freedoms;
Who? Said they had the keys to the kingdoms;
Spiritual warfare Merited Men heaven stormers
Legalistic?
Arithmetic context;
Virtual biceps, malicious cell texts;
Borrowed freedoms, stolen hearts;
Who? Said they had the keys to the kingdoms, buildings parts;
Spiritual warfare Merited Men heaven stormers
Legalistic?
Release yourself from the bureaucratic;
Demographic fallacious options schematics;
Master race stolen more than is can chew;
Constipated evil heart intent malice malicious brew;
Intrenched unyielding;
Human’s thoughts selfish;
Can’t be told nothing unbelieving;
Denying the powers there of self-complacent resist?
Spiritual warfare Merited Men heaven stormers
Legalistic?
My ways are not your ways;
My thoughts not yours also;
What? You talkN bout;
I’m gonna hush my mouth;
This don’t be that;
As a matter of fact;
The fruit doesn’t fall far from the branch to the ground;
Release yourself from the bureaucratic;
Demographic fallacious options schematic;
Master race stolen more than is can chew;
Constipated evil heart intent malice malicious brew;
Passionate about a rebirth life
On this side of the grass
My ways are now align with His ;
My thoughts now holy spiritually hon purposed;
What? You talkN bout;
I’m gonna hush my mouth;
Spiritual warfare Merited Men heaven stormers
Legalistic?
Now of the understanding I know longer choose
All things are from Him and In Him God is All things
So when I allow the things of God to free reign
Just and only for His abounding glory, for His blessings
For His honor, again His glory Hallelujah
12/1/2022
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
Xmas tide,
a time for familial gatherings,
The golden chain of friendship
…and companions
Sweet on each other,
parading arm in arm
Together to share a feast and gift giving
...Nativity scenes, red, gold, green
bells ringing
Garlands, wreaths, and holly
Holiday romance rekindles and
swindles kisses under a mistletoe
Lovers making love!
…A lonely time for others
She arrives solo, one link’s absence sears
her heart yet another year
Smiles seem forced they’ll think
…Cry out the hosts,
Drink up, plenty of champaign !
Chums come and go quickly
Good to flatter one in a funk or ho-hum
The dinner is served, everyone rejoices
Mingles and reacquaint
Toasts and jingles can’t take her gaze away
True feelings are hidden
Like a disconsolate widow,
mournfully she yearns for him
Not a soul to tell, nor a cherished confidant
to share a secret or a private matter
Of the sensuality of karma sutra wooing her gently
Mesmerizing thoughts of a distant lover
have taken her far from the celebration
…His sultry eyes, savory lips
Sleekly sinewed neck, and bulging biceps
Quite an exquisite exhibition
Into his warm embrace and into subservience
Draped in satin, his fingertips tracing her curves
duplicating guitar intonation on his
gears, depressing down fretted notes
Making sultry harmonic tunes
Counting down at the twelfth fretboard
Lusty lullabies erogenous, with more alibies,
Keeps silent not to arouse suspicions of
an affair's existence that shouldn’t be
She counts down the twelve days of Xmas tide
her yearning entails
love is starved at Xmas tide~
he plays keep away
#This is only a fictional limerink#
Connie "went" behind my advancing Back
She went out with the girls and a little midnight snack
I found a gentleman's address,barely tucked away
My only surmise is that it was time for her to play
Newlyweds for just a little over a year
A tight sexy bod with a cute little rear
Always the maid but never the bride
When the rumour became true,
she found another boy to confide
Our daily e-mail is filled with the likes of Brad
A young Chippendale who's been driving her mad
Biceps and those hardbody abs
I heard that no one could see,not a pound of sagging flabs
He still has got Hair,flowing neatly from the scalp up there
My own follicles gone but Connie just couldn't care
She hardly ever came home early ever since
Lady Mrs.Wheeling,has found a much younger Prince
Stealing away,
a fellow's innocent heart
She wants it from a Babe
Instead of an aging old fart
20-somethings are easier to fool
Give them a Hot Mama
Constantly breaking the Golden Rule
And after "that" has been done
His wallet is gone
it's the end of His Frolicking Fun
It is easy to tease
and plunder his finances with careful Ease
I called the Firing Squad(My Sisters have no mercy)
To rip off her Skirt and then ..the Horny percy
Rita,Sue,and Big Laura,too
Grabbed Connie by her booty
And her Lover,you-know-who
Taking them down to the old Train station
I began to smile with devious anticipation
The 4:00 bullet will be arriving,it's a matter of fact
IF A WIFE (OR A SPOUSE)CHEATS BEHIND ONE'S BACK
THE END RESULT WILL GET ONE TIED UP ON THE TRACK!!