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#lifting
jim hurtz here at block fitness! are you tired of feeling like a beta? get your soft supple *** down here and try fitness weight plate in your diet instead of all those ******* donuts you pig! hit the blam button! epxlosions! you see that?! those could be your muscles! you want muscles like me you gotta work ***** too hot in the kitchen? sleep in the fridge! you don't even need your mom's permission you basement dwelling **** now get that greasy pig **** to the block, start cramming this bar up it, and pay meeeeeee!!!
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Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC
Jim Hurtz's Block Gym
Up, up and away, as I soar into the sky, light as a feather, with the birds on high, Oh, watch me fly, as I spread my wings, Explore the world, and the most wonderful things, The beauty that's within, and all that it brings, Just look down, and see what the world has in store, as I am exploring, Who could ask for more, flying up above this whole entire nation, as I am Thankful for God's Beautiful Creations, as I look down upon the lands and the seas, The monuments, of the world, So beautiful to see, A marvelous sight, So adorning to me, as I am airborne, Flying in my Dreams!!!! B.R. Date: 4/15/2025
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Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 2:07 PM UTC
Flying in my Dreams!!!!
In my dreams, I am levitating, light as a feather, as I am elevating, my body is rising, up so very high, as I am lifted high up into the sky. The feeling is sooooo exhilarating, just free from it all, an amazing feeling, as I am floating away from the floor, like an eagle, spread my wings, OH, WATCH ME SOAR!!!!, and Then I wake up, Thinking what does this mean??? as I am floating within my sweetest dreams!!!!!! B.R. Date: 4/9/2025
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Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 3:19 PM UTC
Floating in my Dreams
What is this, This twisting thing my face is doing It feels so unnatural My lips curling this way is disturbing And they're doing it all on their own What is this? The corners seemingly defying me, Lifting and contorting I can't seem to stop it People are reacting, Though not retracting What is this? Ah, nevermind, There it goes, Quickly spoiling, Back to all stale looking Back to the real thing Let's promise to never do that again No more of this... ...ever ©2024
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Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 7:46 PM UTC
~•§•~ An Uncomfortable Smile ~•§•~
doing the heavy lifting *picking up my emaciated heart, letting the rest of my wilting body tag along qualifies, but is not the heavy lifting referenced above. we all have a meeting, the bits and pieces, the bobs and keepsakes that constitute my mien, a constitutional convention of 13 colonies that raucous write of burdens, of freedoms, with wild inspirations and cold political calculations this combining document hoping to topstitch my reeling mind and deteriorating physic, to write words of hopeful praise but rising to a world that is baking in hatred into fabric and tissue, and that is the heaviest lift of all Sunday morning, coffe-d, somewhat rested, a full day planned, and a Mike Message says it’s me that does the heavy lifting and I know! he knows! the displaced state of my mind, and the hardened ache of writing with fresh hope, when there is so little, that it is lost in the litter of endlessness of a world gone, not going, mad~insane and murderers are illogically celebrated, and yet here I am punching words on my AM Morning Punch List of worthy words available that aid us needy for repair & yet might move us together to a state of full repair;   but I am punchy from trying, to find words themselves that require do not require, a truth washing, a new word recleansing and*     (they put the load right on me), *and naïf-not, see the troubles ahead and get me more paper to add to the list of lists of worldly worrisome words that are heavy lifting of the world as it is but know I weep as I write this for not in my possess the light airy words, the wordsmith is crushed neath the weight of*** tonnage of human word-lessened-ness Sunday Morning Oct 22 2023 9:02am, writ in a singed single cry
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Oct 22, 2023
Oct 22, 2023 at 10:09 AM UTC
doing the heavy lifting
doing the heavy lifting *picking up my emaciated heart, letting the rest of my wilting body tag along qualifies, but is not the heavy lifting referenced above. we all have a meeting, the bits and pieces, the bobs and keepsakes that constitute my mien, a constitutional convention of 13 colonies that raucous write of burdens, of freedoms, with wild inspirations and cold political calculations this combining document hoping to topstitch my reeling mind and deteriorating physic, to write words of hopeful praise but rising to a world that is baking in hatred into fabric and tissue, and that is the heaviest lift of all Sunday morning, coffe-d, somewhat rested, a full day planned, and a Mike Message says it’s me that does the heavy lifting and I know! he knows! the displaced state of my mind, and the hardened ache of writing with fresh hope, when there is so little, that it is lost in the litter of endlessness of a world gone, not going, mad~insane and murderers are illogically celebrated, and yet here I am punching words on my AM Morning Punch List of worthy words available that aid us needy for repair & yet might move us together to a state of full repair;   but I am punchy from trying, to find words themselves that require do not require, a truth washing, a new word recleansing and*     (they put the load right on me), *and naïf-not, see the troubles ahead and get me more paper to add to the list of lists of worldly worrisome words that are heavy lifting of the world as it is but know I weep as I write this for not in my possess the light airy words, the wordsmith is crushed neath the weight of*** tonnage of human word-lessened-ness Sunday Morning Oct 22 2023 9:02am, writ in a singed single cry
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46
Wal-Mart at 12 a.m. is almost eerie. Silent save the occasional shopper or manager, Perhaps following you to ensure you don't do anything foolish. Picking out the dumbest things just because you need to smile. Playing with your friend in the toys, letting go for once, Just to be chased away by management. Losing one of the squad and looking for her. Wandering over to the makeup, glancing at the camera, Then picking out what you want and pocketing it an aisle over. Going to the arcade and winning for once. It's not a secret, you needed a win, Plus your little sibling will love the new stuffed toy. Seeing a random family member. Rushing away as to remain unseen, Knowing if your parents find out you will be dead. The general feeling of disassociated contentedness when you finally leave. You won't remember half of what happened anyway, But who cares. Shopping at night is the best.
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Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 12:37 AM UTC
Night Shopping
Hold me in your arms fold me into your heart touch me and let me feel your softness take me away from me help me to see through your big brown eyes drench me in your light for I am down and in the dark remind me to laugh and lift me with your wings of hope smile me that last mile before I am too tired.
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Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC
Hold Me
there lay on the hindsight shelf a most revealing book the persons who were lied to all took a detailed look citations of dishonesty stood out midst the tiny print back then they'd not been informed by a solid hint every misleading exploit sighted on the paper's sheet such disregard for colleagues who'd walked the duper's street they saw a contrary aspect on this particular subject (Epilogue) as time slipped away the deceptions lay hid yet in future days there'd be a lifting of the lid
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Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC
Lifting Of The Lid
There are days when my soul feels stretched out like a ribbon emotions            hang                   ing from a thread on the line, like laundry, for all to see, on pegs vulnerable            in storms letting wind caress and sometimes whip them          round in beaten time like a tempest They tend to get bruised, secretly battered internally as the surface of me smiles and marches on Vocal chords tightening as the larynx longs             in primal urge      to take out the words in one long       graceful arc              of purge On these days I need to sit in the cloudforms of my mind's eye       and let myself feel   what I cannot show:     the daily coldness gnawing     at my innards       blow by icy blow In these hours I must let the tears well up and run down              until the sting of salt penetrates the glacier let the significance of unspoken words rise up from the deep dermis layers into my throat, my tonsils up to the palate and tongue                out through my lips to the heavens, releasing the unsung          those words caught within the walls of my neck - they almost make me choke exhaust contamination from heavy, unseen smoke   It billows up and out and soon, like hard-worked magic this morse code is busted because I am sick of feeling tragic I command clear communication       to filter through the spasms of fog in drops of dew I command my words to be heard in tiny spikes of sun And all the while             in clear spirals,                       a prayer commences to                         be spun: for the harsh                and bitter be flushed out              in unabated, icy rush for my soul to rise up            for the cleansing in aching spirit blush for the painfulness of silence to be ground out upon the floor for the shadows of the violence to be obliterated to the        core
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Verbal Purification
There are days when my soul feels stretched out like a ribbon emotions            hang                   ing from a thread on the line, like laundry, for all to see, on pegs vulnerable            in storms letting wind caress and sometimes whip them          round in beaten time like a tempest They tend to get bruised, secretly battered internally as the surface of me smiles and marches on Vocal chords tightening as the larynx longs             in primal urge      to take out the words in one long       graceful arc              of purge On these days I need to sit in the cloudforms of my mind's eye       and let myself feel   what I cannot show:     the daily coldness gnawing     at my innards       blow by icy blow In these hours I must let the tears well up and run down              until the sting of salt penetrates the glacier let the significance of unspoken words rise up from the deep dermis layers into my throat, my tonsils up to the palate and tongue                out through my lips to the heavens, releasing the unsung          those words caught within the walls of my neck - they almost make me choke exhaust contamination from heavy, unseen smoke   It billows up and out and soon, like hard-worked magic this morse code is busted because I am sick of feeling tragic I command clear communication       to filter through the spasms of fog in drops of dew I command my words to be heard in tiny spikes of sun And all the while             in clear spirals,                       a prayer commences to                         be spun: for the harsh                and bitter be flushed out              in unabated, icy rush for my soul to rise up            for the cleansing in aching spirit blush for the painfulness of silence to be ground out upon the floor for the shadows of the violence to be obliterated to the        core
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89
Traction, It's keeping yourself on the alloted trail, Like a group of spikes pertruding from your hiking shoes. Hidden underneath bleak chances to run off course, There is traction. Ascension, It's the higher sense of letting go, Like a swell from the waters of slightly unsecured mentality. Stationed right above the need for grounding. There is ascension. Illumination, It's the spurt of clarity, intense maturity, Like a smith of fine silver, molding his first ring. Seeing what might be, and generating the material. There is illumination. Perfection, Its understanding the material is but a spec of truth. Like something without beginning,.. without end. Immortal, appearing mortal, But, sincerely niether There is perfection. That is what you are. I am.
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Life Mastered
I try to lift weights I guess I don't pulling not-so-heavy badly-shaped maybe-steel from clay ground to beating chest back and forth atop a New York skyscraper
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Reps
when i run i imagine an airport and you at the opposite end with open arms and me running towards you longing for your embrace when i squat i imagine a burning house a heavy wooden column on my shoulders and you between my legs your life being mine to save when i do pull-ups i imagine a steep cliff and your face meeting mine drawing closer, closer, closer at my every ascent when i deadlift i imagine you trapped underneath the belly of a car with you looking for me to lift the trunk and allow space for your escape when i bench press i imagine myself (this time) trapped underneath the belly of a car with me pushing the car above to be able to return to your company when i do curls i imagine you a mile away a rope attached to your hips and with each tug i repeat you grow closer by a couple of feet when i shoulder press i imagine a promise of a good shoulder rub courtesy of your hands once i squeeze out those last. three. reps. and when my spirit is spent and exhaustion takes over imagination, i shall revel in the endorphins pulsating through my veins and pay gratitude to my iron muse, my unseen lover.
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 7:40 AM UTC
Workout Inspiration (My Iron Muse)
A wicked woman told my love, **** him and you will be free." My love paused, and the wicked woman's old twig of a finger pointed off to me. Love walked to me with tearful eyes, as if she had no choice. I smiled wryly and told her in the softness of my voice, "Let it be done, and be free. No sword is long enough to show my love for thee. No dagger, short enough to match my heart's beat. So please my love, take your choice of my death. Choose what would be fit." She didn't hesitate, just cry. She, slowly lifting a mirror from the dust. I don't know why I felt I must, but I wiped the tears away just to savor her touch. I looked into her sad blue eyes, just for one more glance. Then I shut my own. I could feel her lift the mirror, this was her chance, let it be known. A crashing blankness came down on me, soon after the last things I heard. "I'm moving up, and you're moving down." These were her last words. I didn't understand them then, but now I think I know. She will one day be in the warm light, while I'm still stuck in the cold indigo. I'd always run up the down escalator, like a crazy kid. She always said, one day I'd trip. And now I finally did.
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 6:31 AM UTC
Erstwhile