"convey" poems
Municipal Gum was written by Oodjeroo Noonecaal. Municipal Gum is about the changes in society and the tendency of people to want to control everything. Oodjeroo uses various techniques to convey this idea.
At the beginning of the poem Oodjeroo is addressing the tree. This immediately creates empathy for both the tree and her people. By the last line she has emphasised this with the pronoun “us” to show that they suffer a similar fate.
This poem expresses how life in Australia has changes especially for Aboriginal people. In the first half of the poem Oodjeroo is talking about how life was for her and others. It explores the changes in society and the displacement of the Aboriginal people from their land.
“Whose head hung…Its hopelessness”, the author uses this as further re-iteration of the immorality of the situation and by the use of analogy comparing the tree to her people to further emphasise the shame and lack control of that the Europeans have inflicted upon her and the environment.
Oodjeroo uses extended metaphor technique in the very first line of the poem ‘Hard bitumen around your feet’. This means that the gumtree has been placed in the city scape where it is suppressed and not allowed to spread out and be unique in its own way. This is clear and immanently direct link to the pain and suffering endured by the Aborigines post European settlement.
Oodjeroo uses vivid language to present these ideas. For example the use of the word castrated is very effective. The connotation of the word is very demeaning. With castration often comes a sense of a loss of pride and power. The word castration is symbolic of how Oodjeroo feels the European have treated Aboriginal people and the environment. Castration also refers to the fact that what is done is done. Nothing can undo what they did and the damaged they have caused.
Other symbolism includes the title “Municipal Gum”, municipal meaning community, implies that the gumtree belongs to the community. One of the vast differences between European and Aboriginal law is that Aboriginal people did not believe in the ownership of land or of animals and plants. Municipal Gum is a reference to the Europeans assumptions that everything is theirs to own and control.
The rhetorical question, “O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?” is the conclusion of the implications that have been made throughout the poem. Oodjeroo, is advocating for her people and all things wronged by the controlling behaviour of the Europeans. Rhetorical questions are used to provoke thought and to stimulate a pre-determined response. “What have they done to us?” They have “castrated, broken… strapped and buckled” and ultimately changed things to a point that they cannot be fixed.
In conclusion, Municipal Gum is a poem about the constrictions and change that the European invaders forced upon the Aboriginal community and the environment she believes that the Europeans have deemed themselves ever powerful and practice their power in a manner that is immoral.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
They’ll check your wrists,
But not your thighs,
They’ll check your smile,
But not your eyes
They’ll avoid the truth,
Believe the lies,
Nothing to sooth,
No reason to cry,
Our smiles are bright,
Eyes are a bit dull,
Wrists are clean despite,
The blade with an emotional pull,
And we’re emotionally unstable,
But they say that’s okay,
We are all a bit of a riddle,
But that’s the only thing we can convey,
And the world will open to swallow us up,
But that’s okay, at least our habits remain,
And when their arms finally open up,
We will show them the reflection they taught us to shame,
So we paint a smile with the color of red,
From the thighs they didn’t check,
And from our eyes we bled.
And they'll only understand,
When the noose hold us by our necks,
And if they had thought twice,
Maybe our eyes they would have checked.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
CRUSH
Crush,
The term wouldn’t exist if it doesn’t hurt does it?
When does it start? This feeling,
It grows bigger and larger,
And suddenly I realise,
My heart is on the verge of exploding,
Bursting with emotions that I can’t help but feeling so.
The only thing that I have want to convey and send to you is
‘I like you’, ‘I like you a lot’,
My heart, it hurts,
Evan seeing you from afar, my heartbeat goes crazy,
It's hard to breath,
How do I stop this feeling?
I am tired, I am sad, I am happy, I am anxious,
Because the only thing I have been thinking of is you,
You! You! and only you,
But crush, oh crush,
In the end you’re just a crush,
Those words,
They were never conveyed,
And I silently keep this feeling to myself,
With the faint hope that you’ll return this feeling,
In this feeble heart of mine,
And again, it hurts.
-nuraishahazman-
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
I want to take your attention
and send in a direction
that takes you away
and changes you mindset
for the rest of the day
the thoughts alone
leaving you in disarray
getting you hot
your ***** simmer
the longer the thoughts saute
looking at the clock
as the seconds slowly tick away
imagining my fingers
as they slowly strip away
the folds of your clothes
right down to your lingerie
slowly I impose, as I take the long way
watching you implode, got me thinking you want to play
fingers linger up your thighs as they park valet
triggers trigger your insides, and your body will obey
these thoughts I portray, in a portrait way
got your body speaking languages, how ever they may convey
I read every single word elaborately; until you are my favorite essay
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
To the teachers who never really cared and ignored my problems;
To my fellow ***** “misfits”, etc. Who will no doubt receive more abuse upon my passing, as my tormentors will no longer have me to push around;
To those who never cared, never spoke, probably never knew my name;
To the one true friend, whose caring was the only thing that prevented this event from happening sooner;
To the God, if he does exist, who chose to play a cruel, cruel joke on me when he placed me where he did and surrounded me with so many uncaring faces;
What about my teachers? Will they be sorry to see another student become a statistic? Certainly the administration and Principal will mourn, as my death will not reflect well on them as an institution. Well, I apologize for making the statistics for your administration worse. But I don’t expect an apology for the false sympathies of people.
As for my fellow students, those who made a more significant impact on my life, I know better than to expect my tormentors to mourn.
There’s another group I have not yet addressed: those not like me who left me alone. Or should I say ignored me. I appreciate you sparing me any further harassment, but your inaction, your withheld hellos and how are you’s did more hurt than any name calling. Your inaction effectively excluded me from student life, from the human race. You left me isolated and alone, and no words I could say can convey to you the suffering you caused. I could name names, but in doing so, I would do more now for you than you ever did for me in life.
I do not know what awaits me when I get down off this rope. Will there be a void? Or will I come face to face with God? I just don’t care anymore. If you’re anything like your people, I wouldn’t want to know you. You preached to love one another, yet I’ve felt everything except love from Christians. Even if I knew you were different, well, I'd still reject you. You have left your “followers” to treat people like me poorly. You have allowed so many of the people you “love”, including me, to suffer. So you want me to trust you with my life? I don’t want to spend eternity with a careless deity like you, or with the company you keep.
I’m trying to watch TV but I don’t know what I’m watching. It’s so lonely here. I want to sleep but it just won’t come. I’m so tired of hurting and being alone.
I hope that with my death, there'll be a wider awareness for child abuse and the effects it could have on a person. That's the only wish I have right now. A lot of people will be hurt with my passing, disappointed even, or maybe it won't matter. But I'd like to believe, no matter how much of a ****** up person I am, I died for a cause greater and bigger than myself. That's the only consolation that I have right now.
So that’s it. That’s me. Leaving the world to be a better place.
Goodbye - T
© Copyright Tyler Atherton
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
From the BBC today,
Excerpt
Why does Taylor Swift write so many one-note melodies?
"It's easy to get distracted by her celebrity, but Taylor Swift is a once-in-a-generation songwriter. From the very beginning, she's displayed a knack for melody and storytelling that most artists never master.
Take, for example, her first US number one, OUR SONG
Written for a high school talent show, it's a fairly typical tale of teenage romance until the final lines: "I grabbed a pen / And an old napkin / And I wrote down our song."
That's smart, self-assured songwriting for someone who wasn't old enough to vote. Notably, the lyrics insert the musician directly into the narrative - something she developed into a tried and tested trope.
But Our Song also establishes another of Taylor's trademarks: The one-note melody.
Excerpt
Repetitive melodies that centre around a single note are part of that appeal. They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech.
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
Rebuttal
Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics. They can relate to your song but if they cannot sing it themselves putting themselves in the 'first-person perspective narrative' they cannot feel as-if they have BECOME the artist and are living that moment as they remember it. Taylor Swift sings about teenage love and angst something EVERYONE ON EARTH understands.
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG.
Cadences are singing statements that confer a discipline and unity.
Song acts as a catharsis. The artist shares their pain in a way that is universally understood. If you want to sell a rock, literally a pebble, you will not sell it if it doesn't look like a rock. If it doesn't do what rocks do. If it is not what people remember a rock to be like. Nor will it sell if it is just like every other rock they have ever seen. It cannot convey an emotion unless it elicits emotion.
One cannot even begin to feel emotional if one cannot remember easily the past and that includes lyrics one has heard that evoked said emotional state.
It is horrifying to see HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS that rhyme be obliterated in exchange for an intellectual or individual perspective NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE.
If you want to sell and make money you better start thinking about the 99% of people who are not geniuses.
If your sole goal in life is to attract a genius to give you a great job because of how, "smart," they perceive you to be then fine.
You are not an artist.
You are an employee.
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
Thrice Times Great. ⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ
BECOME
EVERYONE ON EARTH
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG
HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS
NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE
HOW BAD
artist?
or employee?
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
the club is not the place to be
so the bar is where you'll find me
with my girlfriend doing shots
scanning the room and catching nods
your eyes hang in the smoky air
come on over, if you dare
trust me, I'll give you a chance
surely you see that, in my glance
my friend and I are laughing like girls do
my magnetic eyes push and pull at you
starring, you haven't looked away
I can see the interest, you convey
another shot the bartender places
confused, he gestures and your glass raises
I smile as my girlfriend whispers, he's cute
toasting you, we lift our shots and shoot
I won't beg you to on come over
but it's only wasting time until you come closer
the possibilities, I foresee
I'm already in love with your body
in confidence, over you saunder
in my mind the question, I ponder
obviously I see, you're in to me
but what about my friend... are you into three?
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
Evert night at 2 AM
Different poems are written
Different words are scribbled
Different papers are crumpled
But only one thought she had
Yet, word can't help her convey the feelings
"Empty" has much more than herself
"Sad" is not sadder than she thought
"Broken" is more whole than her
"Hurting" ain't just bleeding just like her
And when words can't take the role
It's the blade that play with her
Every cuts has meaning
Everything is her unreleased feeling
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
***My words
Convey
Deepest feelings
From the soul
Revived
With every drop
Of ink
Bridged
Is the chasm
Between me
and blank pages
Crossing over
To dwell
Among the lines
Betwixt
Are the meanings***
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
.
A cloud falls from the sky,
a lead balloon of precipitation,
and cuddles the ground
like a long lost lover.
Dripping its cargo,
shedding tears along the way,
leaving a trail of damp memory
and a calm balm
for the Earth.
*And a candle flickers
on a lonely table,
as a pen drifts across lines,
filling meaningless words
that never
convey the depths of separation.
The flame flares
as a waft, a draft,
creeps in a crack under the door,
adding a poignant touch
to the melancholy of atmosphere.
Gripping the pen with delicate unease,
the hubbub drowns inwards,
doubt rises in ascendancy,
the pen falls,
like a discarded relationship,
and the meaningless words
stop.*
© Pagan Paul (21/11/18)
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Entertainment
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster
What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******** sycophant
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
I dreamed it, I willed it, that's how it should be
That the law of attraction would bring you to me
But now that you're here I've got to confess
I'm not sure I'm up for this kind of success.
You're the only law I'm willing to follow
Everything to this moment suddenly rings hollow
The voice of your soul commands me to move
With reckless abandon I'm ready to prove
I feel the need to break all the rules
What I'm learning from you isn't taught in school
One smile from you and I color outside of the lines,
Forget about bedtime and drink too much wine
Your laugh drives me to run all the red lights
Skip barefoot in snow and stay up all night
Kiss you in public, confess most of my sins
To hell with sportsmanship... I'm out to win
The reason you've come is the law of attraction
And there's nothing that brings me more satisfaction
That I'd feel this way for you is so unexpected
I understand now how my soul was neglected
Your interest draws out in me every cliché
You started this game... are you ready to play?
Ignoring all the signs that it can't be done
Rules are made to be broken; that's half the fun
Your hand in mine gives me all that I need
To take more chances...risk making a scene
Your eyes convey more than your lips can say
Reflecting the promise of more on the way
Supernatural forces are infinitely stronger
And I could not have waited a moment longer
We were meant to create this breathless reaction
The only rule I need is your law of attraction.
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 5:40 PM UTC
When he's trying to convey a message
about the mathematical equation of light
by drawing on my skin
with an invisible finger-pen,
the pictures of
electromagnetic quanta,
photons,
and particles
becomes disrupted
by a static-wave of goosebumps.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
What will become of us, when I have nothing left to say?
When I'm completely burnt out, and have no feelings left to convey?
Drowning in my sorrows, looking for more words to ramble on because rambling seems to be the only way.
The only way to communicate the longing to save someone from my own nightmare.
I talk to talk, hoping that someone will finally understand my jibberish words of thoughts i've compiled together.
My words have lost their meaning, I'm speaking only to myself,
trying to make sense of the words that come out of my mouth.
I've nothing left inside me...Will you take over the talking?
Longing to hear someone else say the things I've thought- quite the impossible thought if you ask me.
How can I expect someone else to read my mind, then communicate it back to me?
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
Judging faces
Held back laughter
All for
A bubbly fangirl
Why must they
Be so cruel
To a nervous girl
I wish they understood
*"What the ****
Said another girl
As I explained my thoughts
About this judgmental world
"It's just a tease"
She said
"She's used to it"
She added
But that's not the point
I'm trying to convey
Ugh
They'll never understand anyway
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
my whispers,
they float over the currents
braving the undulating waves in our overture...
around their necks, hung time-worn pendants
whispers...
struggling to convey my sentence
like wreaths adrift perhaps with hope
like a requiem filled perhaps with remorseful penance
but more like weakened footholds on a slippery slope...
this dream...
only spoke grandly of sprawling blackness
where nothing did gleam
only thoughts heavy but...
oddly weightless
except for...
a repertoire of transgressions...
raucous and obnoxious
mischievous taunts that pull me back
caging me,
enslaving me,
smothering me senseless
that was my consciousness
where second chances exist...
in faint sporadic eruptions
through the heavy curtains of uncertainty's mist
finally awakened by hastened breaths
heavy and laboured
as like previous temporary deaths
I could hear my heart
thumping...
beating...
fighting...
to set its beats apart
breathe deep...
allow the new day's air sink in
rise fully from sleep
wake up
and...
let today begin
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
By the earth and it's wonderful, wide and unique expanse
A mother to what is living on it and inside of it, may it be small
or great in their posture given to them.
Indeed this place inhabits many creatures, faces and races.
Each striving for their own path, of staying alive.
The soft soil of the Earth, a comfortable living and breathing
ground to walk on, proud and all connected, only to be divided
By the sea which covers most of this planet, comparable to a blanket
From which we gain food and drink, in a clear registered cycle.
Of course this place too holds it's dangers, such as a quake could
end it all in a brutal roughless manner and tear it from the ground
we build our houses on.
Or be it an eruption which casts a rain of ash and embers, suffocating
the sky above, the ceiling which was meant to protect is our very end.
A mighty wave, which sweeps over the cities, drowning them in
it's lethal, cold and brutal, moist and salty embrace.
It is not healthy to be in such a negative spectra of thinking however
For this place holds, more transient, living, artistic beauty than I
could simply express or convey in words.
~ Umi
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
I wish to disambiguate
to explicate; expanciate:
I do not begrudge polyamory,
and whatever Love entails
to any particular person,
for I once was polyamorous;
I understand some of the ways
in which polyamory can work.
Usually when single,
or otherwise in an open relationship.
I also do not begrudge sluttiness;
everyone needs some
and some can't resist.
Besides, it is noble
to work such charity.
Who am I,
who once sought such charity,
to demonize it?
I,
who have lusts
and desires?
I do,
however,
take grievous offense
to One in a relationship
who tells their partner
they're soulmates
and who,
instead of agreeing to end
the monogamous relationship,
goes and sleeps around
and cheats on their "soulmate",
moreover if over and over.
It's hard to cope with such deep hurt,
and I wish to convey my apologies
for my rash hybridized expressions
of Anger, Frustration and Hubris.
Perhaps it perturbs me so
simply because it reminds me
of who I once could be and was.
Perhaps it irks me so
because I'm envious.
Again;
Polyamory is not a Sin;
but before you just go **** someone
at least be single or in an open relationship;
it isn't only you
who is affected
by your choices,
and I know
that's hard to see
when you are so young.
Don't hold back
who you really are,
but please;
don't cheat others
in the process.
Not only is Karma a *****
but so can Retribution be;
you never know
what One
scorned
is
capable of;
the next time
you cheat someone
they may not fall back
on mere words;
A few more years
in this World
may teach you
that such Anarchy
doth go both ways,
my dear;
Vigilante Justice knows few bounds:
Don't take too many chances
when it comes to who you **** nor
when it comes to who you **** over.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
Poet : " Hey peeps"
Singer : "sup"
Artist : " Hiii"
Poet : " I was wondering, its quite intriguing how we are all quite similar , yet different as well "
Artist : "How so ?"
Poet : " Well, we all show , some feeling or emotion or portray any message in some sort of form, one way or another "
Singer : "Thats true , I use my voice so that many can hear my lyrics whether cryptic or not "
Poet : True, but you also forgot...
Artist : "Poet does this as well , despite the words on paper for many to read , poet doesn't quite sing in melody , but speaks so that many can hear the words to tell the message "
Poet : " Exactly , thank you Artist "
Artist : " No problem , as for me I neither Sing nor speak , my art paint the words I want to convey in the mind as an image "
Singer : "Yes,Yes, But don't you at times say what your art means , so technically you do speak kinda"
Artist : " Hahaha , ******** yes but I would only say 15-20 per cent of the time , to convey what i'm trying to define "
Poet : " Fair enough but technically poets can do this as well , in fact there is a type of poetry called...
Artist : " Concrete, Yes I know , such a flattering name by the way, hahaha "
Singer : " Hahaha"
Poet : " Anyways! , to add to poetry we need not have to create art , for our message to be visualized "
Singer : " Thats all well and good , however in the rhythmic sway in the melodies of song , I quite literally move people , you could even say the way they dance to my songs to show how it makes them feel , expressing themselves, as well as painting a picture ...."
Poet : "Hahaha damnnn, are you trying to show your the best ?"
Singer : " Just saying facts , not my fault it might come across as me being the best "
Poet : "Do try and remember us Poets do move those who read or listen to our poetry , they can relate. On the words , they think and meditate plus with those lines an image in there mind they do, re-create"
Singer : " Really , you just couldn't help not rhyming ? "
Poet : " Don't hate , appreciate.. "
Singer : " Oh gosh... "
Artist : " Hahaha"
Artist : " Don't forget us Artists , our art , can move people , maybe not as physically as you Singer, but we can cause a sway of thoughts for a painting can have a multitude of meanings"
Artist : " Sometimes it is better not to tell them my definition of the painting, but to see what it means to them and how it makes them feel "
Singer : " Sigh fair enough you got me there... "
Poet : " Its like I said , we are similar in the fact , that we portray something in our own unique act , to wonder and see how the viewer will react , to see the thoughts and feelings in our different dealings... To..."
Singer : " Oh my gosh we get it... No need to rhyme us to oblivion"
Artist : " We all basically show some sort of message just in a different way "
Singer : " See , why couldn't you just say that poet ? "
Poet : " Oh shut up."
Artist ; " Hahaha"
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
By the music and it's heavenly way into a human's soul, through the harmony of the instruments
The rhythmic sound of music has the power to fill one's heart with a certain feeling that is endless
As all the notes come together, being played accompanied by the soft tune of her voice, it sank into my heart, reflected it, cherishing, wishing in bliss that such beauty, never should end
Coming in a clear pattern which leads me to ask;
Where shall it lead to, or where does this end, alike the night, my
hopes are for this to be undawning, so that it can fill me with joy.
Overflowing with emotions, more than I am able to convey with
words or any fitting expression, my eyes shed tears, of grief.
What is it that may has touched my spirit, is it the sound, or are
the instruments responsible for this sudden heartache ?
Of course, unable to find an answer, I consume the music until the
very last note has been played and the prayer which has been sung
comes to its border, its final point where it has no meaning to continue.
~ Umi
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
Never will I return again,
It has been decided by an undawning night, restless wandering whilst following a red thread, not knowing where it leads or where it ends,
Followed by endless questions within a journey of true sorrow, the realisation hits me hard, will I ever be able to reach out for you, dear?
Swallowing the unspoken words, I keep on my journey, to find this end I'm looking after hoping it'll be at least, a happy fight to the finish
Without a sound, a tear running down my face, moistens the earth, reflected by my heart, which has faced a long drought of no emotions,
But now I am overflowing with them, more than I can convey in words, from now on, I want to face the coming morning with you,
Yet my words and wishes do not reach, the path is illuminated by the moon above, only a few clouds are to accompany his loneliness,
Wandering by a road, reaching to the distant sky, oh how I cannot escape this dreamlike tale, of what it is pointing to, softened by light,
Under the drifting clouds, even though the ages may fade away into meaningless numbers, with this unchanging life I can keep shining for you, alike the sweet and delicate,
Moonlight
~ Umi
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
My dear friends
Go on and enjoy yourselves
Slumber the morn away!
It seems early on Saturdays
I've always far to much to attempt to convey
While my few kind heart-ed followers
Tend to sleep their mornings hours
Peacefully in and out of REM
While I'm at the computer rhyming again...
It's late
You passed your chance for early waking
Hell you miss out on a great early baking!
And now it's far past time for eggs and bacon
The munches, as you can guess
Have all been forsaken
And what did you achieve
With extra sleep
Morning dreams of distorted thoughts
Poetic themes now subconsciously lost?
I know, I know
You made wonderful love the night before
And you need your beauty rest
I read your writing, I get it
you are so blessed!!!!
I went to bed alone and played
With the thoughts of someone wanting me
I wish my poems could reflect
But all they do is bleed
How I envy all my followers
If I offend
Give me a holler
You've been hanging out late
With a habits to itch
We all have a role to play
Unfortunately
By the time you get around to reading this
I'll either be asleep
Or on my way!
.....
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC
Wax captured in all the flex
Structured detail with all the contour molds
Realistic in looks of behold
Wax of Bodybuilding champions at their best
Craftsmanship in not settling for less
It’s all about the pose
All angles covered I suppose
Imagine seeing Arnold Schwarzenegger captured at the time he won the 1970 Mr. Olympia
Then Sergio Olivia comes to mind
A waxed monster in the crab pose
All the veins looking like an intense fire hose
It would be competition in being prepared
The time vintage bodybuilders stepping on stage, and commotion in making the competition mad
The idea of muscles captured in pure wax
To attend I hope they don’t add any tax
But Bodybuilding is about facts
Achieve with a will and it’s no matter what age being still
Picture weights molded into wax
A bodybuilder lifting feeling a little perplexed
But it is true strength and dedication that makes bodybuilding work
This would be the message that the vintage Bodybuilding Wax Museum would convey
Bodybuilding exposure in every way
A vintage bodybuilding wax museum encouraging people to give Bodybuilding a try
I am quite sure there are questions of why
It is the intensity with effort that would make one cry
But the most important aspect would be “Stay away from drugs”
This should be captured on every souvenir mug
If anyone is caught taking drugs, we will just pull the plug
Well vintage bodybuilding wax museum it does have appeal
Now if we could just make it happen being for real.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC