I get my emotional exercise jumping to conclusions
Working out, to weaken my delusions
My warmup starts with bad morning news
This day is going south, before I get my running shoes
My cardio is done when I get really mad
I have a cool down period, after I get sad
My endurance comes from running down my dreams
Jogging in the marathons, powered by my screams
My strength training routine is carrying my heavy load
I get my reps from hauling it, up and down the road
My form is rather rough these days, my core has gotten weak
I work on my reaction time, only when I have to speak
Getting stretched, I’m too thin from dodging all the lies
Repetition comes from all those tries
Hydration comes from crying all these tears
I’ve been working out by myself for many years
My well-being is based on my emotional exercise
I like to start the day early, just about sunrise
I exercise in my mind, workout hard most everyday
I sit and think, then I write what I’m going to say
Now I’ve had my workout, it’s time for me to rest
I know tomorrow’s routine will keep me at my best

I had a dream.
I don’t remember most dreams.

I was cleaning the floors of heaven.
It seemed a mixed blessing,
I was in heaven, after all
but I was cleaning the floors.

It was a part time job,
I knew that intuitively.
I don’t mind house cleaning, heaven cleaning.
It’s calm work, kind of Zen.
Are we supposed to think of religions in heaven?

At first I scrubbed on my hands and knees.
The floors are soft in heaven, like golden gym mats.
Then I thought of it, and suddenly I had a swiffer-wet mop,
just like that - and the pad never wore out.

After a while, I had an iPod, and AirPods too.
Then a daiquiri - a banana daiquiri with a pastel rainbow umbrella.
They make rapturous daiquiris in the hereafter - they never run out.
‘Heavenly,’ I thought, snorting out a dizzy laugh.
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Songs for this:
The River of Dreams Billy Joel
If the Lord Wasn't Walking By My Side by Elvis Presley

Write a limerick with antechamber
Came the dare from a girl I adore
It is sloppy at best
And a quite sober jest
But at least it can't be any lamer

You’re wrestling the devil, fighting to be “the man”
When you wrestle the devil, its catch-as-catch can
It’s no holds barred, anything goes, a regular street fight
The world is watching the main event on Saturday night
It’s a death match; the winner takes it all
The match is scheduled for TV time, or one fall

The devil is tricky, he’s got friends outside the ring
Whips, chains, tables and chairs, that’s what they bring
Sorrows got you in the corner, headlock squeezing tight
Best do something quick, even if you have to bite
Pains have got you down, in the center of the mat
He’s got you trapped, like a big city rat
You need to break free, get out of his hold
If you don’t, you’ll be stuck, like the cheese and the mold
You’ve got to keep moving, you better have a plan
When you wrestle the devil, its catch-as-catch can

The crowd is roaring; it’s time to bust out your moves
Careful now, watch him Jim, look out for those hooves
You got him on the ropes, with help from some fan
When you wrestle the devil, it’s catch-as-catch can

Now it’s time the show is over, they called it a draw
He would have had you, except for that one little flaw
He didn’t know you had faith and truth on your side
When he came up against that, all his threats died
You wrestled the devil, now he knows you’re “the man”
When you wrestle the devil, its catch-as-catch can

How to read my poetry:

Read it with your eyes, they will show you what I say
See it with your heart, it guides the way
Read it with your mind, keep it open to the truth
Use your understanding to verify the proof
Let it get in your dreams, read it while you sleep
Let it get in your soul and I hope it will keep

When you finish, read it once again
This time with feeling, like blowing in the wind
After that, quietly reflect on the story
Did you find it sweet and nice or ****** and gory

Try and remember your favorite line
Maybe the one about yours or the one about mine
Dry your eyes, blow your nose, get to the funny parts
The one about true love and two broken hearts
You can read them over and over; they never get old
Some of my best lines are as good as gold

I love a long holiday and as a general rule
you’ll find me out by a turquoise pool
cause it’s hot outside and I’m nobody's fool.

Closing my eyes I lazily daydream
listening to my favorite musical streams
umbrella shaded from harsh sunbeams.

I’ve put away polemic school assignments
for leisure and tastier desultory refinements
like buffalo wings, pizza and ***** martinis
and the barely there cool of a string bikini.
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Songs for this:
Digging your scene by Ivy
The Big Sky (Special Single Mix) by Kate Bush
Can't Be Like This Forever by The Moving Stills

Harvard’s a black hole, info wise.
So, let’s see.. what’s going on? What’s in the news?
Anything? Anything?

Hot take..
Not to be spicy and negative,
but sometimes i’m too much myself.
Too comfortable, open and vocal.
I can be opinionated.
Who knows who’s listening?
It could be anyone.
“That’s not red, it’s carmine,” I blirt.
There’s a rise and rush of feelings around the table.
FAQs drop, I get treated.
“God, get up and get at me,” I replied, with an unnerving poise.
People love a scene.

Happy 4th of July to Yankees everywhere!
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Only a Fool Would Say That by Ivy
Lovely Day by Elizabeth Mitchell
L'Anamour by Ivy
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slang:
FAQ = told the facts
Treated = attacked

I’ve got plenty of ink, it’s my paper that’s shot
I can only write a few words, that’s all I got
Quick to write, slow to understand
I’ve got a fast mind and a slow hand

I had to scratch out some lines
I was trying to find some rhymes
But now it’s over, I think I’m done
Looks like I penned another one