Observe the dents and the bents
This barbell is sitting alone in the alley
How long has it been there you ask?
It has been years, but it is a forgotten story
The barbell was rusted and old
But doing its day, trainers knew how to take hold
The barbell was outside a once very active Gym
The owner’s first name happened to be Jim
The Gym’s name was called “Fitness Theory Gym”
The members were all Fitness Buffs and Bodybuilder’s that were massive and muscular
The gym was strictly *******
All about fitness being the core
Yet all the trained was centered around barbells with an uptown grade being called weights
Walking pass on any given day, you could hear the sounds of moans in lift
Catch my drift?
But a Financial Crisis at the gym slowed business down
Little by Little, the members could no longer be found
In fact, it was next to none
So the gym had no choice but to close down
But then again, gym after gym was no longer bound
The end of fitness and ******* not being the sound
So one loss barbell that was left in a forbidden alley
Rusted and no place to go to be lifted
The barbell stayed in the alley until sanitation arrived
A barbell being old and no longer in use
Also a barbell no one could see
A ******* past with what used to be

**** the twin-size mattress,
that cheap indigo color.
Where my best friend’s legs,
her hands and knees,
were entangled in struggle.

**** his barbell body
heavy and cold to the touch.
She had been hunted  
by someone that she trusted.

**** the world that assumed  
she was kissed. Not gripped,
nor crushed under his pressing force.

**** the cinder block walls  
of that college dormitory,
where she stared and refused
to sleep in her own bed
After that night.

**** the catchy tune of breath
rolling over teeth  
that play in her head.
**** her father. He would say
he doesn’t approve of her *******.

So, she chose to stay quiet.
Forgettably quiet.

It’s the one thing that will grab a guy’s attention
The thing that will really move a girl into perfection
Once they open their mouths there it is
Why they got it done is none of my biz
But you know it’s something I can’t really ignore
The barbell sitting on your tongue I have to adore
That’s one move to prove that you’re ****
Makes you a hot girl even if you’re hefty
It’s like a magic wand that makes girls pretty
Just seeing the jewlery makes me feel thrilling
To parents it shocks the living the daylight out of them
I find it as a strong love shock so I’m one of those men
I even watch videos on YouTube on how they get it done
Many girls on their bulletins are saying how they want one
When it comes to tongue piercing I’m obsessed
So I’m just writing this poem so I can confess
My feelings about this trend I’m trying to express
Once I see a female with one they stay stuck in my mind
So I feel that those are the type of girls that I want to find


Men shouldn’t get one because it makes them look gross
I think it’s the girls who should be getting those the most
It’s the white swirls on that tiny barbell hypnotizes me
Those kind of girls are the ones I hope to have by me
Seeing girls with one is like Cupid shooting his arrow at my heart
Then my emotions will go intensely crazy, don’t know where to start
Many say having that piercing will make you a ****
They think those girls will look for *** instead of love
Regardless the reason it’s the piercing that draws me closer
Those are the girls they almost every guy wants to hope for
In my definition the word ‘attractive’ is what they are known for
Once you stick it out and I can’t take my eyes off it
It’s an obsession you don’t hear me talk about often
Guys are lucky to have girlfriends like that
They’re lucky men and that’s a strong fact
Kissing them and feeling the barbell on their tongue
That feeling must be so enjoyable and it sounds fun
And that’s why I consider those men the lucky ones


I don’t want to get one because of the pain
And it’s not a look that I want to maintain
Girls with one are the ones I want to go after
Hoping that they don’t think of me as a disater
I don’t go around saying this because I don’t want to sound strange
And I don’t want my strong obsession to make girls think I’m insane
Just because I feel this way dosen’t mean I’m gonna hunt you down
All I’m just doing is stating my feelings, it’s not as creepy as it sounds
I would do anything just to gain your attention
But being polite and respectful is my intentions
I’m not one of those guys who stick their fingers in your mouth
I know those things will really disgust you and make you shout
I can control myself and not let my emotions get the best of me
The last thing I want to do is do something to make you leave
As girls who have tongue piercings are the ones I want to please
They’re like clams with pearls inside their mouths
Gets me so impressed all I can say to that is ‘wow’


Some of these are girls are hard to find
As I have them burning inside my mind
It makes your hair and ****** appearance don’t matter
It’s the piecring on the tounge that makes me flattered
It’s not physically touching me but I grow weak from it
So f I would of asked you out then I would of done it
Long tongue, short tongue , that dosen’t really matter to me
As long as the barbell is through the tongue is all I need to see
I don’t know why I’m obsessed with tongue rings that’s just how I am
When I was younger I use to not care about it and didn’t give a ****
One day I saw a girl that I like with one and became crazed ever since
I see a girl with one I imedately think that’s the one I want to be with
It’s like eye candy and I’m very highly addicted
But that don’t mean I’m trying to sound sadistic
It amazes me how you eat with that thing on
And not have your tongue ring piece fling off
The more you have the better you look
You’ll look better than you actually should


The aftercare must be intense for you
Whatever care actually depends for you
Getting the silver barbell on your tongue must be hurtful
Keeping your mouth open that long seems like a workful
And it’s not just that, afterwards I hear you crunch on ice
To make the swelling go down so your tongue feel nice
Then I hear about you using Listerine to remove the bacteria
It’s must be total stress on you and for that I really hear ya
Though the piercing will dazzle me I also give you credit for putting up with that
So many steps to follow just to prevent infection and accepting this painful fact
I’m not forcing any girl to go get a tounge ring
Just do what you want and do what you think
I’m just telling you the story of my obsession
And to use this poem to express my confession
I don’t think the obsession I have will ever go away
Looks like the feelings that I have are here to stay

perhaps if you have time,
take a moment to read the
predecessor poem in the notes below first,
in order to better understand this one


<>

the love poetry curfew so lately announced
misshapen, growing without respite, by hate extensions distended,
poet's sanity uncomprehending, for yet another! sabbath desecration,
debating internally, how long should this cessation be extended,
for the pockmarking of earth's face with fresh bloodshed,
continues unashamedly, swiftly apace, these unholy days of dread,
all haggard his mind, hazard his eyes, harden his heart
no muse could sway

but shocking himself,
poet's mirror image stares and dares
with a finger-pointing,
his own specter's absurd challenge of

"and yet, now more than ever "

when children are killed like bowling pins,
there can be no satisfaction in revenge
cannot expiate evil deeds with avenge
measure for measure add-on sins,

and yet,

poet thinks quietly, repeatedly, self-surprisingly,

and yet,
love poetry, now more than ever

asking confusedly, almost ashamedly, out loudly, yet secretly,
how can this be, for there will be again, more painful awakenings,
is it the end of days, of greeting sunrise, with a love for love poetry?
with madness come and confusion everywhere rampant,
'tis a doubtful thought, the carnage having wrought
an insoluble dissolution and can love poetry be any solution?

in poet's Adirondack safe place where life tributes were
birthed, bred and trials borne, a right writ place for unmasking,
a private soul in equal parts of joy and shame,
love and pain, loss and gain,
here the weighing scales bore equal measures
of old bereft, and life uplifting visions of,
what will come, what will be, the unforeseen,
the hopeful yet of

"and yet"

a dotted line of whitecaps  beckons the poet to tread upon,
the glassine bay's waters that lay before him, go, walk on water,
a path to point where and whence the quaking waves
have gathered, calmly begging, Oh poet!
provide  assurance, explanation, comprehension,
querying him as if all sanity, has flightly, unsightly, fled
from the home shores of human sailors, gently asking poet,

"your fellow walking earth-beasts have all sensibility killed,
these times so human terrible, we waters, cannot understand"

poet's rebellious soul all so confused, asking and answering the
waters in his head, the waters that address his eyes,
seeking wisdom words from a place where logic
has been whittled and willed away,

and yet,

love poetry, now more than ever

now is the time when a love poem beyond merely necessary,
poet's eyes cast downward in shame, his thinking, hesitant and wary,
time for prayer, not madness distraction of a love poetry commentary

the waters dissatisfied at his confusion,
part as if by Moses's staff, majesticly powerful rise up,
confronting poet with the sweetest tasking
as if they were the downtrodden and the hurting, asking...

"we storm, drown and take, for such is nature's angry periodic way,
something beyond our control no matter what we say,
to another's dictate and momentum, we must bow and obey,
but you human, have choice, and we have none -
choose love poetry and let it comfort like no other"

and the poet sighed and wrote

this poem

this poem of love,
realized and conjectured,
with inserted verses of

"and yet,"

for though the poet possessed no well of well words
more than these few saddened and impoverished,
wearied, hard scrabbled ones

and yet,

gasping and grasping a potent notion, a portent of what if,
of a world with no love poetry,
a planet that could not ever-overcome hate, dooming itself,
for love poetry and all its cousins and associates,
the only method to confiscate
these grill blackened marking silent barbell weights
so let this be ,
this is a love poem,
and now,
this is the time,
to let

"and yet"

vindicate...


<>
6:20am
Saturday July 16, 2016
and yet

He was larger than life
   even shriveled
      even the size of a
septuagenarian
   even at 85
      even growing smaller in mind
and spirit
   the last year I saw him
he was larger than life and
   I still looked up . . . .

He was 59 and I
   was a child with
arms and legs dangling
       as though they were made of
purple and orange pipe cleaners
and when he said to hang on
   I thought of Forefathers
      of Revolutionaries
   hanging on to their ideals
and my arms wrapped tight
   like the rubber band on his bread . . . .

The long-ago far-away again and
   again of the
Last Year I Saw Him
   seems to come around
      like Fruit Stripe on a bicycle wheel
   seems to come around
      like a broken holiday of
can/can't come because/without
and you drop
   like a barbell weight
like a drop of blood
      like a ream of cardstock printed with maps
to find you and
   to find you and
to find you had just received a thick file from
   the Feds.

     Again.

Like all others, I hated high school.
It was a scrawny waif that I remember seated at the front of the class.
I raised my hand at every question to endless ridicule,
and people whispered I was weak for trying to be "such a smart-***".

Now people think I lack brains because I own a barbell and bench.
What they don't know is that it's all an extension of my first love: Science.

Every morning, I don my hooded polyester lab coat.
I write theorems in drops of sweat on a rubber padded mat.
I experiment with the practicality of the theorems I wrote;
I know my hypothesis is correct when veins bulge and muscles catch.

Breathing shallow, in ragged determined gasps of air,
I put my theory to the test. Veins bulge, muscles strain.
There is no joy like the joy I know when I find my theory correct. I call it
The Warrior Poet Principle: One can in fact have brawn as well as brain.

I've accomplished the task I set myself in high school's lonely halls,
I vowed that I'd never be that weak waif again.
Hiding bruises from pimple faced tyrants who had me by my *****,
I persevered, and I grew my thews and thesis in twain.

**Now by neither tyrant nor textbook will I ever be chained.

I hate that feeling,
When you can't lift the barbell anymore.
Then your brother walks in to the gym,
Looking at me like I'm a foreign species.
But in his eyes I see you looking at me,
Tracing my skin, loving my corners,
And walking away.
Suddenly 12 reps doesn't seem like enough,
And I need to punch something.

He pushed the weight of the world
To the top of the milky way
And he leaned, and he sighed
As the world rolled away

He put the globe on his shoulders
As he prepared to climb again
He shrugged and it shuddered
Spreading fear to little men

Igby! Igby, my boy!
I feel it coming down on me!
This pressure, this weight!
Why can I not be free?

Some weights are corporeal
Like the dumbbells at the barbell
Tabs overflowing, drinks and meals
These simple weights are easy to quell

Then there are the really heavy ones
The ones no eyes can see
The ones that drag us down to earth
That make it hard to flee

Our words and obligations
All form a lofty load
We are all carrying something
Along our personal roads

And our roads, they go forever

But, to where?

No one knows...

I am not the only one
Who when my back is turned,
Envisions monsters
With daggers in their hands
And a pool of blood on the floor
I am not the only one
Who sits in constant fear
That my name is being
Hacked up and spat
out of people's s mouths
I am not the only one
Who is a million pound barbell ****** upon my neighbors shoulders
Breaking them down
Day by day.
I am not the only one
I am not the only one
I am not the only one.

This is your soul speakin’
Time has come to enter the ring
You want ‘em to know you’re the king
I don’t wanna see this body give in
For that matter, be the master
Off with this super cozy sweater
Pump it up baby, work it out,
Hold yourself together and try it out.

So let me tell you it’s gonna hurt so bad
But when the signs kick in, don’t stop
Tell them guys you’re gonna get on top
To do that despise respite, lad
You wanna sweat and you know what?
Considering the effort, it’s great
Think about your badass swat
Punch this body to the floor

You don’t want to reach your limits
You’re here to overcome them, so come on
School gave you more than satisfying units
You’ve learned to cope with it, you’re tough
Don’t waste your time, your session is on
And don’t be surprised, this is gonna be rough
Whisper you love this power when you grab it
If you fake the whole stuff this is not gonna make it


So get up, gimme all you got, this is the first round
You like the way you’re struggling and screaming
You like the way it accelerates your breathing
Learn to appreciate it buddy, this is the sound
Of a furious fighter finally enhancing his heartbeat
Stand up and follow this unleashed upbeat!

You’ve passed the 30th line, and you should begin to feel
Sweat covering your hands and this heavy barbell
Ain’t so bulky after all, here comes the spell
Casting this astonishing adrenaline, don’t kneel
Ignore the pain caused by the bench press, you feel better
If you hold onto it because this is the right track
You won’t die baby, bounce and destroy the latter
And remember of the rest you don’t give a frack

So get up, gimme all you got, this is the first round
You like the way you’re struggling and lifting
You like the way it accelerates your breathing
Learn to appreciate it buddy, this is the sound
Of a furious fighter finally enhancing his heartbeat
Stand up and follow this unleashed upbeat!




That’s not the helluva lot to do, you know
At first you can just choose to take it slow
But I thought I told ya to rip your ribs
Well yes, sweat is dripping on your hips
Don’t give up **** it, don’t give in
I said don’t give up, did you hear me speakin?
You’re getting stronger, I said you’re getting stronger
You’re a 700 nitro gun, guy, and it’s getting warmer.

So get up, gimme all you got, this ain’t the final round
You like the way you’re struggling and lifting
You like the way it accelerates your breathing
Learn to appreciate it buddy, this is the sound
Of a furious fighter finally enhancing his heartbeat
Stand up and follow this unleashed upbeat!

June, 10, 2014.

After workin’out.

it turns out there is no
poetry in the word "*******"/
if you're trying to woo
the reader I would use
pierced *******/or to completely
rewire the brain why not just use
horizontal clitoral hood barbell
I hope this helps


Sara Fielder © May 2018

Poetry,
  barbell of the written word

Resistance exercise
  for the status-quo

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Is a bit partial
He has a hard shell
But is soft inside

Larry Marshall
Isn’t a bombshell
Bit of a hard sell
But he’s alright

Larry Marshall
With his old barbell
Healthy blood cells
Never gives us a fright

Larry Marshall
Walks on eggshells
Might not raise hell
But puts up a good fight !
And likes all my poems