"pushups" poems
Generous coasting of the west coast
leaves me tangled in roots from roads
intersecting with waves surfed by
long blond-haired beach bums and
babes who pant at a muscular man
that pushups on the boardwalk
next to towels drying on the
handlebars of my bicycle.
I ride and ride and ride
through weather thought to be
unrideable by most cyclists
even if million-dollar-prize
tempted them at the finish line
and a set-for-life sponsorship
was promised to any and all
who could fight through the storms
of what I stoically battle.
No gear or goggles,
just legs of toned steel from
nights spent heating them over
a log-lit fireplace on spit
while keeping intense conversation
with lover across my gaze
until she escapes unexpectedly
into dreams, unaccompanied by me.
My legs are on fire,
no rain can extinguish them
and no slick roads
will stop my going.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
Fingernails dug out of steering wheel
in the out door, not enough gin to ****
50 pushups. 50 more. Change my body
Maybe you won't ignore
Ambien, the lull of the ceiling fan,
the crowds of protestors disband --
the blanket warm, cosmos tease and can,
malaise, malaise, I'm trying to be active
and sane, sane for the next promise ring holder
and wine cooler queen, here comes the switch:
ether.
The night brings me back to you
by way of illusion --
you've got lingerie
I've got needs
You've got teeth
I've got shoulder blades
so it begins,
white knuckle, culling songs, strain on scalp --
I sing along, ancient melody, satin dirge --
precursor to your soliloquy and black venom urge
to scatter this bandaged man--
pieces in your hand,
collected and left on 100 dressers
for ill-informed future connivers
conspire
but I'm only tired of trying not
to look like a liar
so I blend into your blood
satisfied smirk from
transparent you
but what is the future
--a present hope
but what is the past
--a present memory
so we abolish each other now
betting on tangible mirages
in this delicious, miraculous night
the stars align
the planets collide
not an inch of you goes unkissed
not an inch of me goes without an itch
blackness and breath swirl and spit
me into a confetti end time without prophet or priest
only a skinny seed, and then the switch:
wake with a present hope of getting over
my present memory.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
you say my eyebrows could use a plucking
you say my lips are colorless and dull
you say my eyes could use defining
you say my cheeks are much too full
criticize my face all you want
it won't have any effect
but tell me that i am unpleasant
and inside it will leave me a wreck
you say my ******* could stand to be bigger
you say my waist is much too wide
you say my thighs could stand be thinner
you say there is too much fat on my side
ridicule my body all you want
it won't cause me to cry
but tell me you hate my existence
and i will find it hard to get by
you say my grades aren't quite up to *****
you say my face often looks very dim
you say i should do more pushups
you say i should connect with a him
laugh at my lifestyle all you want
it won't cause me distress
but tell me you've told all my secrets
and it will leave me very depressed
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 12:01 AM UTC
My kids need me,
and there is so much to see!
I have a great camera!
Yet I NEVER take pictures
because I am Old,
and Tired,
and ******* LAZY.
So Yeah.
Time to change all that.
So help me.
ASK.
Pushups,
Walks,
Hikes,
Exercise,
Some heart pumping task.
Please,
Feel free to ask!
Believe it or not, I don't lie.
(Or rarely anyway)
So ask me what I have done today,
I didn't mean to turn this into a poem,
Didn't mean to rhyme,
But this is how I write when I really FEEL,
This is how I am in my own private mind.
Good God,
(I say this with that knowledge that most of my friends don't believe,
But to them I say,
***** you,
God is always true,
Even if you don't believe in him
(or the greater power, or it, or whatever),
He still believes in YOU! :)
It doesn't matter to me,
Or to him,
Living a moral life is really what matters,
Even if you never sing a single Hymn.
People have it wrong.
And I ask you,
The Old Dude Upstairs,
Please lend me your tolerance and Strength,
Help me overcome my Laziness,
Because I want to LIVE,
TO SEE,
TO BE ,
And I won't,
Not if I continue down that path that I walk now.
It is hard,
But I have faith,
If you can't,
God,
I WILL,
My own logic will show me how.
How to buck up,
to deal with pain,
and to let it go like I used to,
To dance in the rain.
Dear lord,
I just say thank you for the chance,
Let me change my life for the better,
Grant me the strength,
to withstand the pain,
let me heal,
Give me the rest of my life to say thanks,
Give me one more Rain Dance.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC
There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object that he look'd upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him of the day, a part of the day
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
Climbing trees became a part of this child,
And playing catch, splashing in puddles, racing bikes down the block,
And tormenting neighbor kids,
And the falling down and the scraping of knees
Became a part of this child.
Nap time, time outs, smelling thyme and rosemary and lavender,
Digging through the crisp verdant garden
All became a part of this child.
Boy Scouts, dinosaur hunting, star searching, pencil drawing,
Became a part of him.
His own parents,
Reading aloud, arranging play dates, preparing snacks,
Supplying toys only to be forgotten about
for a stick or perhaps a box.
Mother off working, leaving by dawn, returning for dinner
And father, strict, the warden, always teaching responsibility,
Both becoming part of this child.
Vacations and swimming and visiting the grandparent and getting spoiled
Going to the zoo and seeing so many terrifying and exciting creatures.
His parents, always feeding and inspiring imagination
Becoming a part of him.
Walking to middle school became a part of him.
Lockers, combinations, IDs, pungent locker rooms, the labyrinth of halls
crowded and loud
The anticipation for lunch, the sweet sound of the three o'clock bell
The flurry toward the doors all became a part of him.
Pushups and crunches and laps and blown whistles
Loving every moment of the cool fresh air
Newfound freedom, licenses, cars, jobs
This responsibility became a part of him.
Plucking, scratching, squeaking, struggling, playing
Sounds of an unproven orchestra growing together,
All became a part of this boy.
Surviving the first day freshman year
So small, so young, so innocent
Growing, maturing, learning, all became a part of him.
School dances and football games and musicals and stress
Cool clay carefully sculpted, melodic rhythms played in tune, rubber ***** quickly dodged
AP class after AP class, notebook after notebook filled meticulously
New friendships formed, old friendships strengthened.
All this became a part of this child.
These became a part of that child who went forth every day
And who now goes, and will always go forth every day.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
No pain no gain is an understatement
Pushups are a form of punishment
You respect your captains every single day
And trust your choreographer to lead the way
You leave the field sweating, makeup in your eyes
A fire burning in your heart... and in your thighs
Practice every day, dripping with sweat
That six-foot pole no longer a threat
Working hard to be the best
Every weekend is your test
You gain new family and friends
With each other till the very end
Bonds that last all year
People to project all your fears
This is where you throw it all down
Because in the band, you're the crown
You make the show
And you need to know
To hold your head up high
And don't you dare be shy
Cause the countless hours you have spent
Can't be bought with any cent
Cause Denise's bleeding hands
And Beave's constant demands
Always changing
Always rearranging
Working hard to make the show great
Making sure to keep your posture straight
This. Is. Colorguard.
Which will always have a place in my heart
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
it rained the day after Christmas and
you said you’d prefer snow.
it reminded me of London
so I kept my mouth shut and pushed your hands
further between my legs.
“eat my pineapple,” I instructed
as the *** coated my tongue.
“carry me through
the tiki bar and do pushups in the empty
space while I brush my lips on your temple.”
we were married on the corner
of Queen and Dunn;
our officiant on one knee, clad in blue knit
I
never thought I’d be here.
across oceans you recessed
further into my insomniac brain.
your eyes are green, right?
turn around:
it’s less romantic if there’s no eye contact.
track our distance across my sternum --
I’ve never been to Azerbaijan.
I took advantage of the fact that you were wearing black
and forgot to outline my
shape in chalk.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
you sent this from jail:
"My goodness these messages just made my morning. Absoloodle. I have been trying to call you but no luck..your'e right though communicating in here is tougher than it seems. Kitsch? Sounds delicious. I dreamt about you last night so this is just crazy right now. I love you so much.. Thank you thank you. I've lost so much and the fact that you out of anyone still cares lights a fire in me, making me stronger, and not letting this system break me down and dehumanize me and institutionalize my yoked up brains. No missy, i've actually been doing hundreds of pushups a day so i'm gonna come out all sculpted and angry haha..maybe a neck tattoo."
I miss the days I believed him.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
1 pushup
i forget your face
2 pushups
i forget your fingers
3 pushups
i forget your
lips
i forget your nose
4
for
get
your
shoulders
5
forget
the back of your
neck
6
forget your thighs
touching mine
7
remember our smells
together
spicy
vibrant
8
remember the sound of our shoes
on the pavement
9
remember the river
10
remember the symphony of our laughter
11
oh look
back to 1's
again
well
at least
i know
where i am
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
I do a few pushups
Before you visit
I rummage for the good cologne
Dash some on wrist, neck
Crotch
I trim my hair
Sweep the floor
Swipe the gunk
Off sinks
Wash the dishes
Stuff all the junk
Socks, backpacks, ****
Into the closet
Rearrange my trinkets
Shelve the various books
Thrown all about
Lay out the good movies
Songs, covers
Ready at hand
Prep my mind
With witticisms and humor
Hang up strawberry
Car-fresheners
Buy wine
Out of my price range
Dim the lights
Scrape the crust
Dust off the shadows
For you
I dream
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
Hidey-Hidey-Hidey-Ho
Wiggely-Wiggly-Wiggly-Woe
Going out on run, in the full Sun
Helmet on my head, both hands on my... Rifle,
If you said "gun", drop and give your weapon 10 of your best pushups.
If this ain't fun, call you mom, call your dad, at mile ten they can pick you up.
Hidey-Hidey-Hidey-No
Wiggely-Wiggly-Wiggly-Woe
Sound off ...
one,... two,... three,... four,.. one,two,... three,four
I'll keep running when my legs turn to jelly
I'll finish this run, crawling on my belly
How far?
All the way!
You gonna quit??
No Way! Not today!!
Sound off ...
one,... two,... three,... four,.. one,two,... three,four
one mile down nine to go!
just warming up on the road.
Hidey-Hidey-Hidey-Ho
Wiggely-Wiggly-Wiggly-Woe
Don't let your rifle hit the ground,
When you need it most it might let you down.
Hold your rifle above your head
Yes sir, but I'd rather be dreaming in my bed
Sound off ...
one,... two,... three,... four,.. one,two,... three,four
Hidey-Hidey-Hidey-Ho
Wiggely-Wiggly-Wiggly-Woe
Are we there yet?
Closer than we were, you bet!
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:12 AM UTC
Here, re think the name that may not be spoken,
in light
of the curse brought
by knowing evil, and good, especially,
in this little light of mine, which I vowed, as a child
to not allow the accuser to quench,
AI nada gonna put it out.
My duty is to fight and **** to keep it bright.
I'll be a warrior under god.
But then the darkness of the pledge,
to the flag, {I am six-years old, ******** allegiance?} locked in,
duty bound... endure the contest, and laugh off the fear of dying.
- look out my window, watch that black lizard
- doing pushups, signaling in my peripheral vision
- listen, does it look like that lizard is showing off
- strutting its blue belly as hook-up bait?
Not t'me.
I think he's singing in lizard pitch my ears notice,
but my senses lack the filters to sing along,
lizard songs, no fear, no roadrunners or cats near,
and it is a fine day to be cold blooded,
running on the rocks,
running on the sun.
Singing lizard loud,
All that's done been done is done,
all that ain't, ain't
ain't it wonderful,
what may be?
Yep,
that is that lizard's song
as he run along, stopping every few feet to dance,
I swear, for sheer lizard level joy.
May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 2:41 PM UTC
I told you, I don't want that kind of girl.
The way she bent the strobe- and the moonlight,
the way she kept telling me to shut up,
the way her heels acted like asterisks --
Marie, she ain't my kind of girl.
I told you, I'm just waiting for my head to clear.
I need fall to end the crow and vulture's flight.
I need to get unkempt and shut-in.
I need the pills to pull hat tricks --
Marie, I need a few more weeks.
I told you, my body's not ready.
I'd love to defend the howl and hiss of night.
I'd love split rent and shudder skin.
I'd love the pushups and matchsticks --
In the spring.
I promise, Marie.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
Are we 1,75m tall?
No, but we can do 10 pushups.
Do we get good grades?
No, but we try our best to learn.
Are spear ribs still our favourite food?
No, but we do eat.
Do we still play basketball?
No, but we do still swim.
Are we happy?
No, but we haven’t given up.
Do we still believe in humanity?
No, but we also haven’t lost hope.
Are we gonna cry right now?
No, but we will when you aren’t watching.
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 11:30 AM UTC
You melt my stress like
The first hit
Or
A solid set of pushups
An honest act of altruism
Seen or completed
(One thing I am remarkably good at without even trying is
Being kind of big so
I’ve been pushing cars out all winter, you should try it)
You interrupt my thoughts
Even when I’m telling a story and
That’s impressive
Knowing me
I’m known to create soundscapes with the echoes in my dungeon mind
Lonely compositions
Full volume but drowned out by you
Sometimes I become completely detached
To any idea I’ve had or action I’ve committed
But you bombard me with the beauty of mistakes
And the merit of being proud
Catch me slithering into my hole
Stomp on my tail and drag me into the light
You make me transparent but
I love it
To the universe, I am murky
For you
I am clean
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 9:12 AM UTC
playing the ***** at a puppet cocktail party
couldn’t be an easier audience
but my check is still in the mail
saving a skinny woman with chest compressions
single-handedly so-to-speak
i wasn’t alone but i’ll take the credit
the others were weak, i was going heavy
and that’s when she came back
resurrecting my villain for the TV series Heroineburgh
an afternoon shoot with 3 young ladies in tight spandex
acting!
saving another woman with team compressions
went on for 60 minutes before her heart reignited
a christmas miracle
though i unplugged her 2 days later
continuous seizures
getting 3 of my 4 bands on one compilation
that and a quarter would give me a quarter
falling off my bike twice in 5 minutes
car ran a red light, then got doored in the bike lane
today was the first day my sprained wrist allowed pushups
(helps with those chest compressions)
making a money hat for the video i’m shooting for the Dumplings
they’re the Rolling Stones of my favorite bar
went to a hypnotist at the Fringe Fest
failing to get hyponotized
"you were obviously resisting," said my wife
i don’t know
i think i’m just obviously me
playing my ***** on a movie stage
for 8 second segments with the movie
don’t ask
we made $96 and bought tacos for $95
now i’m listening to my swinging new louis prima album
reflecting on this groovy month of spring
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 2:32 PM UTC
and now she'll just work harder. sweat dripping from every pore, from every crease in her skin and every bend of her bones. she will become what she has always wanted to be: strong.
her hair is becoming lighter. one by one, the wavy hairs on her tanned head are being bleached by the sun. her skin smells like memories of shores and of heat and of bathing suits. she smells beautifully. and as her skin tans her smile stretches across her face, beaming and bright.
her stomach is shrinking, her arms are muscular. she finds new outlets for sadness and rage in pushups and squats. she lifts weights for fun and does sit-ups to feel the burn of her life slipping away.
she needs new clothes, her old ones don't fit right. or maybe they fit the way they were always supposed to. she buys new shirts, new shorts. she feels good about herself.
and then she breaks and her arms are weak and her legs won't move. she scratches at her sides, long red marks across her too thick frame. her thighs are fat and she knows it. her hair is frizzy and she knows it. her back is cracked and bent in half and she knows it.
and now she'll just work harder.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
They always say the same things -
the script and the show
“Let’s fall in love over a fancy dinner
and stories of travelling the seas.”
“Take control of my car stereo
play whatever you love.”
“I did three thousand pushups in three minutes, darling, feel my biceps.”
Same faces,
same words,
same places,
same stories.
Heard it all before.
But maybe -
if we’re able to cry all night
on the other’s shoulder,
for no reason,
or a hundred reasons.
If we can scream out
the moments we felt small
felt guilt,
felt shame,
felt fear,
felt agony.
If your long paragraph
meets mine
and we don’t flinch.
Just hold.
Just stay.
If we can dance,
inebriated,
with arms so entwined
we forget
whose hand is yours
and whose is mine.
If we lose track of time -
in silence,
in words,
in laughter.
Let love bloom
in a secret garden
of periwinkles and petunias
but also
in the mud,
the mould,
the stains of regret
and wishful thinking.
Let it exist
in nightmares
and dreamless nights.
Not perfect.
But present.
Something different.
Something more.
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 11:49 PM UTC
Well, there.
I found it, shins
I found,
a huge place in the back of the head and locked in bed, maybe id
can only pinch with the residue residing
Swelling and spilling, the only true bad Smile.
The stem ringing and squealing
Swelling, kneeling
Afterwords, left and sizzle stigmad
Talk to your kids a lot. please!
Because handstand pushups only make
The thing competitive with no
Relatable taste
And movement from the vital stops
Which attracts the secret cops.
They're city veins.
Swollen, stolen.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
A real big mean son of a *****
6'5 280 lbs
With a 6th grade education
He had a tattoo on
On the back of his shaved head
A big stab wound on his gut
He was shot 5 times
In the ***
He was brilliant
At credit card fraud
Only felt pride
For his gang
In and out of prison his whole life
Said life was more comfortable inside
I watched him put his feet on the kitchen counter
Hands on the floor
And do 100 pushups
I watched him with dying red eyes
High on speed
Peeking through filthy blinds
Every 3 minutes
While explaining how the
Man in the telephone company truck
Was really the CIA
He was arrested for ******
But the courts let him go
Due to a lack of evidence
He had 12 kids with 5 women
He was willing to fight anybody
Even women
Especially women
Made me drink a beer and
Showed me **** when I was 8
Showed me how to steal a car
With a flathead screwdriver
I hated big outlaw
He was a real mean son of a *****
It's a real shame
That I have to see his face
Every time
I look at a mirror
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC