I met him yesterday.
He introduced himself as a triathlete.
No first name. Just TRIATHLETE.
Gave me a wink and a very firm handshake.
He exchanged glances with me and his left bicep.
I found it humorous that he was flirting with a humerus.
Said he would see me in a few weeks,
At the triathlon.
Well, I won't be found with a numbered card on my chest
at the start or finish line.
I'll be found in the first aid tent rendering aid to
other good will coffin dodgers named TRIATHLETE.
Writing is dangerous a sport
With far too many muscles left to pull
Not only in my body
Writing is far few abstract-I cannot think in words and I cannot label-the day I put it into words it's labeled
And that is dangerous a vote
Thinking is much cleaner yes, for now
They said that thoughts are safe
yet I don't think obscenities in public
And I don't feel obscenities in public
Two sane thoughts a day(required by law) they say will keep the writers away from Fitzgerald's and Virginia's-Poe is still fair ground
They said that diaries were safe, but we writers do not write in public
But sports are played to audiences and votes need to be a-gotten and we writers express our condolences for the death of writing and the birth of Athleticism and Campaigns
We laugh like there's nothing
That's not hilarious.
We speak in unison when skipping down
Cobblestone streets, on our way to
Music or movies. Like magnets
Through two crowds, drawn
Until interconnecting. Astral athletes
Exchanging tops after a game; pointing,
Asking, learning, relaxing.
Learning, relaxing more, pacing. When
Love tries, everything becomes
She gets bodied by minds
Our Intellect intertwined
Gets her wet until
She drowns in my words
Then comes alive
Just to save her suicides
She runs it back a hundred times
Like running backs trying to find
A hole in my defensive lines
She's a sporty shorty
Dropping gyms to try and court me
But when I land one
She says that's foul on the scoresheet
She sees that I'm a stand up guy
Looking for floor seats
I score to force overtime
And now I need more sheets
Be willing to face the consequences for your mistakes.
Oh, punishment will come.
Bet on it.
We selected you for your talent and sports skills.
And more than anything wants you to achieve your diploma.
Yes, educating you is our main goal.
As young adults, realize you not in high schools.
And the rules and regulation is of a higher standards.
You must police yourself when faced with temptation.
Yes, common sense works when confronted with things you should avoid.
Parties, oh you will attend with select friends.
Than the smarts ones won't.
It's just not their purpose to act out cause they away from their parents.
Sexual matters, will be your stumbling block.
And more likely lead you down paths you regret.
Oh, by now you should have witnessed this evidence.
But parents should be your security check guards.
Call and confirm that you still policing them.
Forget what their friends think of your parental check?
These are your children's.
Coaches, can only guide so much.
Some kids get in colleges and begins to lose touch of their senses.
Get influence by fools and used by idiots.
So blame not the schools when your children's venture out and find trouble.
All universities hand out guidelines what expected of them?
My mind is playing tricks
flipping into reverse,
all is static,
I'm frantically sadistic.
I'm on the grind,
shit's grinding my gears,
you say my name like it's sounds I made up
even in our sheets we're fucked up.
The rat race isn't a race,
but a triathlon
we aren't athletes,
we're just dragging our feet along,
no ping to life's pong,
this is a poem
'cause I can't write songs.
Remember, The Olympics
Not for Politics, but sport
Leaders of so many countries
Choose to use this to distort
The reason all are gathered
To present their efforts best
Not just for Queen or Country
But to continue with their quest
To achieve a brand new standard
A true Olympian at heart
It's time for the worlds people
To come together, do their part
We all cheer for our countries
But we should put them on the shelves
For the next two weeks in London
Cheer on the athletes, themselves
Today I am Canadian
Tomorrow maybe, Dutch
American and English
And French...well not so much
Serbian as well
I will cheer all the worlds athletes
And I will be the first one who will yell
When a record does get broken
Or a personal best is set
If a time gets smashed in swimming
Or a ball goes in the net
My country is my favourite
But, whichever flag's unfurled
For the next two weeks in London
I am a citizen of the world
I will sit here on my sofa
Acting like I'm on the bench
and I'll cheer on all the athletes
But...I won't cheer for the French!!
Sometimes we wish
We were Americans
We would have aced the Spelling B's
Been athletes on scholarships
Or won beauty pageants
Our institutions would compete
And we would win prizes
If we were Americans
We would thrive with competition
We would live the American Dream
And be rich and famous
I just know it
Sometimes we just wish
Our Scandinavian system favoured people with our talents
Our lack of compromise
Modern athletes, strong and buff,
These days are tested soon and late
just to prove their skill and strength
are free of anabolic taint.
Ryan Braun, the M.V.P.
was tested thus occasionally.
He didn't seem the type to me
to boost his skills unnaturally.
Thus imagine my surprise
to learn the urine he supplied
contained synthetic Testosterone
Brewer fans emitted groans.
Now it seems he's off scot free
based on a technicality.
He will not have to serve the ban
imposed on many a lesser man.
Opening day, reserve the date;
Braun will be there at the plate
His many fans will come to see
Ryan Braun, the M.V. Pee.
Silver screen athletes
quitting soccer teams
to join homophobic friends
(redneck quasi outdoors-men)
who just want to kill animals
angst must be vented
lest it boil inside
and form a much darker concoction.
I beat the horse
'till I couldn't get it wrong
the faceless desks of power
and high profile lawyers
sentencing me to a life's term
to an uninterested fifteen year old
too busy stroking a Ritalin limp dick
to star censored ladies on Vegas stripper cards.
And he said "Watch your language"
when I said "What the fuck?"
a high school football game.
the field is ablaze with juicy roses
the athletes suddenly drop thier pencils,
their coughing hands made of melting wax.
all the trombones are falling apart, and
the flute players are losing their panties
under the bleachers, throwing away secrets.
heartbeats cracking broomsticks, the nuns
were always hitchhikers with resounding
i sail forward, snatching the time bomb
from the quarterback, snuffing out
a pall mall on his right eyelid.
the dead angel is summoned to slay
the horrible hippopotamus. she is ancient.
she has a mouth full of cavities and peace
in her veins.
the truth is a piercing thing, whose bitter tongue will decay me.