"olympiad" poems
She leaves a note in the morning after, signed with her name because he whispered the name of another woman while he was inside her.
She leaves a note written in her bright red lipstick because he said it made her lips look like cherries, and her mother had taught her that the fastest road to a man’s heart is a good meal.
She leaves the note in her lipstick because he didn’t compliment the dress she wore on her fragile body, the shoes she wore on her dainty feet, or the heart she wore on her sleeves;
He complimented the lipstick she wore as a note written on his mirror; an instrument of multiplication, she had to face it all, and face it twice. Twice the bed frame, twice the sheets, twice his sleeping body, and twice her face.
What she likes the most about the note is covering a part of the mirror, and a mirror is never a friend.
He takes a leap of faith and jumps headstrong into a relationship that he knows will drown him.
He was named a champion in the 2015 Olympiad for swimming;
he lost his golden medal but the whiplash on his heart when he delved into the waters will always remind him how salty it tasted.
He sinks into an abyss of intensity that he cannot dry out no matter how long he sits near the lonely candle next to Madonna’s portrait.
He soaks in the glistening sunlight; water was never his friend.
She brushes her hair every evening and every evening she reminds herself that she needs to brush off her family’s rejection.
He trains everyday and every day he reminds himself that his heart is also a muscle.
They do it in the dark because it’s easy to love another and scary to see yourself.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
Thirty six years after they last were held in pre-war Berlin
The games of the Olympiad were all set to begin
This time though, in Munich, set to host the sports worlds greatest show
It was the night before the opening, and all were set to go
August 26th, the games did start and all was going well
But ten days in, the world was shook, and Munich was now a hell
Where terrorists changed how the world would see these famous games
From that date on, The Olympic world, would never be the same
Mark Spitz, that year, set records as he won seven swimming golds
Olga Korbut, elfin princess, stole our hearts with moves so bold
Frank Shorter won the marathon for America, and he was German born
But, Munich's games are famous for the actions, that September morn
Close your eyes, remember back, if you are of the age
Remember those victorious, who were outstanding on that stage
Steve Prefontaine, he came up short, Lasse Viren, he did what he set to do
Think back now to that late summer day in nineteen seventy two
Eyes closed, still remember....David Berger, Mark Slavin and Kehatt Shorr
Seew Friedman, Josef Gutfreund,Elieser Halfin, and you know there is five more
Josef Romano, Amizur Shapira, not tweaking any pictures in your mind,
Andre Spitzer, Jaakow Springer, Mosche Weinberger...any memories do you find?
These men all were Olympians, judges, coaches, athletes, refs
September 5th is now famous, it's remembered for their deaths
They all should be remembered, for their lives, for why they came
They all reached the highest level, they had made it to The Games
Did they ever win a medal ? Would they ever get their glory?
They're remembered as a victim, unfortunately that's their story
It's 40 years on, London hosts, The IOC does not
Take a single minute, give these Olympians a thought
Now close your eyes again and think, could that happen once again
Could terrorists take Olympic lives, could they come and **** like then
Now if I repeat all the names I mentioned, you may not see their face
But, for one short shining moment, please put them in their earned space
Eyes closed, still remember....David Berger, Mark Slavin and Kehatt Shorr
Seew Friedman, Josef Gutfreund,Elieser Halfin, and you know there is five more
Josef Romano, Amizur Shapira, not tweaking any pictures in your mind,
Andre Spitzer, Jaakow Springer, Mosche Weinberger...any memories do you find?
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 4:43 PM UTC
It really was a great time,
me an Gnat went to the planetarium,
and watched the stars
swimming above us
in the Olympiad of useless love,
we had calzones
across the street
after,
and laughed at each other's jokes
out of politeness.
I took her back home
blowing a Djarum out the window,
when she asked for one.
I wanted to ****
she wanted to ****
So we ****** on the fouton,
truly bored with each other,
but having nowhere else to go,
no other ***** or *******
on the horizon
and comrades in our loneliness.
But it was good and tight,
and I ate her out,
because I'd always loved the maple syrup
of her ******
and I don't think
her
or me
coming
was out of lovelessness,
I think the rawness
of her and my *********
was pure.
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
When Cameron came to Stratford
he came in disguise,
afraid of the eyes accusing him,
he stood in the stadium
like an Athenian,
but we saw through his games
and Olympiad flames,
when Cameron came to Stratford
we buggered off to Crewe.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
I can grow my love taller than Eiffel
I can open up your heart like petals
Pour my essence in your quintessence
Like the beeswax melts in the sun
have you melt my heart in yours
Under the spell of love I can do all
Wait, there is no height I won't climb
Can lead a rescue team for your
There is no army I won't subdue
as long as it takes me to you
If that is all what I need do
Hey, it is either only me and you
Else, it would be me against the world
Cupid now?
come out the underworld
Will you?
Never tarry, Godspeed in your steps
shoot your venom right into the chest
then will I become the wholesome lad
who rides on love's wave to win an olympiad
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
We were star-crossed lovers
With stars completely faded
Upon the pellucid canvas
From hearts barricaded.
We were crossed lovers
Anger emanated from our soul
Clouded coils created catastrophe
preventing us to be complete wholes.
We were lovers
Pain and misplaced anger dissipated
by trust and words exchanged
Accomodating the memories created.
We loved.
Loved like a love created above the skies
Stronger than any weightlifting olympiad
We shared a loving bond unbreakable by lies.
We love,
The way a bee loves collecting honey
With love coursing through our veins
We love, like the sun loves being called sunny.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
I was never the hero of
My own life. Nor did I try to
Be. I ran. No Red Badge of Courage.
No Olympiad. No laurels to be placed
On a head bowed in humility. I ran...
In the wrong direction. I had a Dragon
To chase, you see. No St George,
However. I wanted to embrace the
Monster, and take it home. And in
Doing so, i was severely *burned
In the process*.
I've spent a majority of my life
severely addicted to drugs and
Alcohol. Anything. *** Amphetamines.
Acid. *** Anything that could
Alter my pathetic state. I was the
Walking Wounded. Dead. My drug
Of choice was ******* Crack. It did
The job better than anything else
I tried. The euphoria a road to
That fabulous beast unlike any other.
That pipe and lighter its flaming maw.
But, ironically, the rock of my shame
Lead to the Rock of my Salvation.
And I finally ran... into Jesus's arms.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC
She has the same taste in music as me
We have a similar fashion sense
We both love science, orchestra, and doodling
We're both insane
We both love anime
There is a mutual possibility of blackmail
We tell each other everything
We like the same youtubers
We both don't always get along with our moms
We both had weird childhoods
We're the perfect lab partners
We love our Science Olympiad team
We both have family in other countries
We both sometimes resent the fact that our dads married our moms
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
sunbeams on the morning bright
removes most traces of despair
and carries me to the ancient rite
when myths of furies filled the air
machines evicted and in their place
the wind filled sails o’er the wine dark sea
gods at play with the human race
in plots and schemes vindictively
in every crack of earth, a spirit lives
gods and men in shared desire
both guilty of a deceit that gives
clouded reason for Olympiad fires
the thunderbolts fly with little debate
impulsive gods, petty, spoiled, absurd
but regal in their conniving state
and held to oath and word
they take every opportunity
when not aligning sun and star
to shift their shape, then sexually
pounce, with a quick au revoir
jealousy, rage, revenge at any chance
stirs the north wind on the sea foam
forcing héros to tragic circumstance
with very long rides home
from a thousand ships to none at all
these powerful lords seem obsessed
to place siren obstacles and sudden squall
leaving the righteous without rest
no need for blinded giants hurling stone
let us be who are but men
so that amid destinies we are free to set our own
the earth to wine and fat, then back again
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC