"treadmills" poems
A long, long time ago, I can still remember when,
Junk food made me smile,
And I knew if had my chance,
That I could make my fatness dance,
And maybe I was happy for a while.
But McDonald's made me shiver,
With every burger they'd deliver,
Bad news on their doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step.
I can't remember if I cried,
When I passed size twenty-five,
But something touched me deep inside,
The day I knocked back obesity fries,
CHORUS.
So, bye, bye McDonald's French fries,
Drove my chevy away from McDonald's,
didn't have a bevy,
I said goodbye to whiskey and rye,
Singing no more apple pies,
That's the end of obesity fries.....
Did you go to McDonald's biomes?
Did you know you're changing your genomes?
Eating all those pesticides?
Now do believe they love you, guys?
Might as well eat dead flies!
And can you change evolution in real time?
Well, I know you're addicted to them,
You'll need more than treadmills in the gym,
Now can't even put on your shoes,
Man, you'll dig the obesity blues,
CHORUS.
I was an obese teenage bronco buck.
Driving to McDonald's in a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day I ate landfill in those French fries...
I started singing bye, bye obesity fries,
Drove my chevy, had no bevies,
And the burgers were dry,
This is the day I knock back French fries.
CHORUS.
I met a girl who sang the blues,
She'd passed turning size twenty-two,
I asked her if she ate junk food too,
She just smiled and drove away,
I drove down to the store no more,
Where I ate additives years before,
But the junk food store didn't care anyway...
CHORUS
CHORUS....
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
What Hope Remained?
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
To scale a void devoid of dawning light.
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
For those in sight of angels heaven sent
Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.
When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
To gift last hope to all who saw their might:
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.
In The Fall
I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,
And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall
Before it plummets earthward -- 'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.
I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
Did he derive the meaning of it all?
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
I gulp down an Energy-Booster-X,
blue and sour.
Siri turns on Radiohead,
15 Step.
I step up to the pyramid of treadmills,
bouncing and salty.
Surrounded by Greek gods,
Beta, Alpha Gam, Pike.
I motivate myself by my surroundings,
bulging and ****
Cardio first and then core,
2 miles, 200 crunches.
I connect my sweat in a line down my shirt,
blotchy and stagnant.
Everyone stretches in the end,
Thighs, biceps, pecs aflame.
I will not stop until I am perfection,
beautiful and sculpted.
Alarm set again,
For 6:30am, 7:30pm
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
I walk down to the quayside,
past the Pure Gym fitness centre's
plate glass window.
There is a phalanx of treadmills
facing the glass,
populated by women
running nowhere,
an image of futility,
trapped like flies at a window,
determined and doomed.
The fitness centre looks out
at the huge boats
that work North Sea
between the oil fields and the fishing grounds:
The Olympic Commander,
Normand Aurora,
Skandi Caledonia,
Helliar.
On the high decks,
men in yellow oilskins
lean over the ship rail
and watch the women run.
For a moment I stand
between them, the earnest women,
the wistful men,
feeling for both but belonging with neither.
The sun is low in the sky,
and there's an Arctic bite
to the wind.
I pull up my collar,
and hurry into veins
of the granite city.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 6:41 AM UTC
they say the grass grows greener on the other side
but I've been watering myself down day after day
counting calories, running on treadmills for hours,
you know it seems like the only thing I could eat without feeling guilty about myself is a small bowl of nothing
but even that would be too much.
and when I do eat, I eat so much that I'm too full to go on with the day
but that fullness can't fill up the empty void in my head that's supposed to be telling me to love myself
because how can I love myself when the only thing that's ever loved me was a hot pocket in the freezer
and how can I love myself when my dad says people who hurt themselves are crazy but then saw my scars and didn't apologize
and how could I love myself when I was the age of 16, the woman who gave birth to me told me depression is just a phase
and how can I love myself when the first boy I ever loved told me the only way to chase after his heart would have to be on a treadmill
and how am I supposed to love myself when people think that not eating all day is an accomplishment
but who knows maybe the grass is greener on the other side after all
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC
*i've been to kenya, all that these "charity" adverts are fuelling
is ignorance, they're presupposing
all the african nations are like kindergarten,
they're insulating them... it's like that:
give a man fish or give him a fishing rod,
i.e.: give a man money or give him a
method creating & subsequently circulating wealth:
these charitable companies are insulting
african nations to be at a loss,
they're only feeding european bureaucrats
who are really the only worthwhile
charitable pay-cheque givens, odds 4-5.*
a retired lady selling poppies
for a feeling
committed suicide
being hunted by ninety-nine
charity organisations...
charity organisations...
start-ups akin to apps of
cue: shaved face, young, eager
****** venom ****** statues
of jealousy...
all the bankers' wives have
a tier system, the origin of
charity companies
(surely a wife can't be as pristine
as her husband):
first two don't count,
third: modern art "collector",
fifth: philanthropist,
seventh: possessor of an O.B.E.
and as one bemused englishman said:
king arthur and the zimmerframe table
of knights with walking sticks rather than swords:
money made people lazy, less adventurous,
let alone less tribal and communist,
adventure just became predictable,
tourism...
the modern shopper is envious of
the hunter gatherer... so envious
he wants to look the part, but live as modern
lazy allows... after all... all the gym sessions
can't go to waste... got to run standing still:
hey! don quixote! leave the windmills!
check out the treadmills... you see a caveman
anywhere in the sweaty parlours?
i don't.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
If I am the minute hand,
you will be the hour and
every time I see you,
it feels like the first time.
It seems, no matter how far I go,
I will always run into you again.
Around n' around...
Time n' time again...
It seems we're stuck on treadmills,
never going anywhere
but constantly dreaming
of a far away finish line.
We'll trip and stumble,
just as all humans do,
but you'll never see us acknowledge it.
Our rule: talk about but never to.
Deep in my bones,
there is an ache that shakes me,
but no matter what I swear
I will see you next hour.
It is similar to a curse
that binds us with unchecked will.
No explanation-
just our actions that feel right.
So many questions as to Why
but how am I to explain
something that sits in my bones
and tells me Do
I'll say goodbye,
but what good will that do?
If I am the minute hand,
I will see you next hour.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
Grey concrete treadmills under my black converse.
A new city, as fresh as mint by the Pacific breezes cool over me.
I left everything, but nothing that really mattered, for this new space.
Found my friends here, they were waiting for me.
Urging me to leave the ache behind, so I did.
I'm on the beach now, but I miss what was before the ache.
Everyday a little less...
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
*my my, ain't it June?! Juno, why have you given these poor people snowballs?! it's June and my central heating is on, it's close to 10 degrees Celsius, Bavaria is flooded, people embraced Einstein's relativity of the collapse of the = sign using a parabola, forgetting the basic Newtonian: cause & effect - the moment i coupled Socratic abhorrence of moral relativism, i took to dislike relativism kindred of: claustrophobia and agoraphobia... at some point Einstein's relativity equates space as time, rather than what Newton would suggest trans linear: algebraic squared, Newton still resides in cause & effect, space = ~space, given: 1 = millimetre, kilometre, and any other division... likewise with time... 20th century fashion being the perfect crop of quantum plagiarism, although in the 21st century the dance loop jumping between decades, back in the 20th century a linear expression, an evolution; quantum physics doesn't deal with linear excavations necessarily repeated, it's just repeats what is unnecessary. global warming and the mini ice age, June's here, Einstein too, Newton too, relatively speaking we're aether imprints... speaking via causality we're leaving a carbon footprint - well, **** me, two plus two... it's still scientific negativism, dietary requirements of modern man overshadowed all the scientific progresses in the field... never mind the cure for cancer! never mind that! as long as we can dress a diabetic in Lycra for bariatric surgery - never had i had i heard of such gastronomy, should it have been a pork chop smoked using zyklon B.*
we are living in the age of scientific negativism,
atheism a third limb
and our existential concerns reduced to
hamsters, calories and treadmills:
the basis of all modern inquisitiveness /
Aristotelian awe reduced to rubrics of dieticians
rather than theologians: at least with the latter
we could see the simple mind, hunched
in prayer... with the former we are experiencing
robots repeating the daily 2000 Kcal intake requirement
for a flat stomach... honestly, i prefer the praying
type, than the type regurgitating facts concerning
their diet - at least the former state of affairs
kept them shut up and mumbling, gesticulating
a type of shadow boxing while befriending
Jacob wrestling with an angel - at least that!
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
china: never put all your eggs into one basket. true that, we gave more riches to china than anyone could have thought, riches that aren't gold or diamonds or champagne bottles or restaurants with £500 a head meals or a grand fashion industry with designer labels... we gave them the single most important of the riches: work.
odd, isn't it, back then it was work,
but the steel industry
is collapsing in the west with
cheap chinese steel, cheaper even
than the indian steel...
manufacturing jobs are gone,
obesity is on the rise because we have
no ****** outlets, only the hamster
palaces of treadmills and weights...
and that's counter-productive it would seem...
all the menial jobs were exported and
in came bureaucratic jobs and fancy ponce
jobs of the office dealing with branding
and aesthetics... making a brand of yourself,
getting paid a million quid to post a video
of eating a tablespoon of cinnamon or
a whole jar of peanut butter...
the jobs that created the gigantic market
place by feminism... i know women did the heavy
duty stuff like making shells...
but that was during world war ii...
i know they're capable... but why suddenly
clap and applaud where there are female
engineers on building sites... but no female
bricklayers? such a successful theory?
women soldiers but no female bricklayers?!
might as well say that i'm the broken outdated
robot in the dungeons of a ***** bank.
- everything now has a sticker: made in china...
made in china... vietnam... etc.;
obviously i'm stating the obvious -
but there's a slight warning floating about
the place... erziehung macht frei (education
sets you free) does not mean: go to university
get a degree... it's the persistence of education,
education becomes like working,
there's no achievement basis...
good example, i got a degree, but **** all work
in my desired education training -
they're not even employing people
with chemistry degrees in places where,
technically, chemists are intended to be...
poetry became the only option, the last
resort... not for therapeutic reasons either.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
the empires that seep into the marrow
of the bones breaking under the weight of
ghosts from every time period leaden
with unrevolted tools – unreal futures
exchange on tomorrow collaterals
echoes of empty homes unheard amid
the jeering of parliament and bomb drops
racket media revolving doors all’s
for the taking when it comes to foreign
resources or big business building walls
and the means to defend them and to send
people fleeing as if turning treadmills
of off-shore profit in hoards and stomped on
for state’s sake or fossil fuels which are like
investment banking and nuclear subs:
we do not need them, they will **** us all.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
Eyes fixed on the sun.
Shoulders back.
Back straight.
Chest out.
Solid breath.
Eyes fixed on the sun.
Eyes fixed on the sun.
Control is an illusion created by fear
Consumed by the restless, caught begging for sleep
Reflection is ruthless, a bottomless pit
A strange kind of way of breaking a kid
Paychecks, and billboards, and coffee mugs say:
"We're building and building and building away"
A body that wanders sets foot on new ground
So a mind that wanders is a mind that expands
A mind that expands is a mind that creates
Textures and shapes and colors and sounds
Paychecks, and billboards, and coffee mugs say:
"We're building and building and building away"
A mind that reflects is trapped in itself
Constantly spinning in a conical shape
A circular fashion, more narrow each day
Until it's caught, and sealed, and safely stored away
Meal plans, and caffeine, and bucket lists say
Treadmills, and timesheets, and calendars say
Paychecks, and billboards, and coffee mugs say:
"We're building, we're building. Keep building away"
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
Small Emergency Stop button
on my treadmill every mornin,
you grow and grow
as I run and run.
The two escapes I have,
running, writing.
Emergency Buttons are only helpful
on treadmills.
even if life had an emergency stop
would you really use it?
Would you or I really give up fall days?
what about summer rays?
what about the animals of the sea,
and what about the special he or she?
Honey, I would never Stop
this life I got,
I'm finally getting it figured out.
Not saying I don't get stressed out.
I do fuss and cry about,
silly things that in the end,
where literally not worth my time.
Emergency stop, where is your
pull now? Where is my want towards you now?
Emergency Go, where are you?
This treadmill is working, but I'm not going
anywhere, I'm hardly even showing,
signs of improving.
Improving this love,
to grow, while in the wild.
I wanted to say I love you, but couldn't,
so it just hurt more.
and now, I am solving my problems
looking at a Emergency stop button.
Treadmill you wont defeat my problems,
but you do defeat my stressors.
I have you back now, and so I don't care
where we end up. As long as its far from,
Emergency Stop.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
(Senryu-ous story)
I can’t figure out
why everything doesn’t
happen like I want.
I brush my teeth and
floss regularly, I wash
my roommates dishes,
I am generous,
I don’t run in the hallways,
I do my homework.
I support pizza
places, Amazon - I spur
the economy
semi-sleepless night
no worries, but tossing with
no sleep - what’s with that?
My health app says I
slept three hours, four minutes.
I’m low on toothpaste.
five-thirty AM
Lisa and I ran four miles
on the gym treadmills
Banana/ peanut
butter/ cacao/ oat milk/ chia
seed breakfast smoothie.
I've been in love with
styling dresses, layered
over flared jean pants.
My first look was a
tulle dress over sequined jeans
and tan kitten heels.
The winter hook-up
scene is in full swing - not for
me, I’m like second base
I just lay around,
in sad, unfettered, boredom
- a crying shoulder
for others, I’m not
a skanky ***** like [censored]
- try penicillin - ßℹℸçⒽ
Since, as you can see,
I am, for all intents and
purposes - perfect.
I can’t figure out
why everything doesn’t
happen like I want.
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 10:36 PM UTC
I can change
the speeds,
but I will always increase
in time and distance.
A seemingly endless
track of rubber
energized by electricity,
worn out by the steps
I and those before me
have already made,
But I can choose
to get off
and stop.
I just haven't decided
how or when
I will get off.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
. *you know what
scares people?
i want to be "something"...
that scares people...
i need to feed on
the reversed adrenaline
puncture "wound"...
i... need this
"aversion" of claustrophobic
tactic! i need,
fear...ich wollen schatten,
ich wollen, nacht!
ich bin sein angst...
alles in alles,
und alles,
und alles ist nichts;
nichts ist...
paniermehl...
und paniermehl ist... alles:
alles güt.*
you know what
scares people?
5 words:
i'll ******* **** you.
fear? like a diet:
people need it,
i order to engage in
slimming "exercises"...
when people don't ingest
enough fear,
they become fat...
and you know what
happens
to the fat people
on treadmills?
they either slim...
or drop... dead.
i'm just itching
for a ******* guillotine!
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
*i'm just a body reduced to talking about
treadmills and counting calories,
i might as well be a budgie trapped
in a birdcage running the motion of carrying
forward a mile, yet standing still...
the famous 1980s angst against being schooled
is gone with joy division and the smiths,
i'm into placebo's cover version of bigmouth strikes
again anyway... seriously, i'm like a modern
day don quixote, but instead of windmills
i'm facing adversaries that are on treadmills:
keep it up and they'll turn you into hamsters
powering the whole ****** gym,
or that's what you should be doing,
don't get me wrong, i used to pump iron
on the weights for sex-appeal... **** me did that
prove to be a farce: bulimia didn't feel roman
empire rite of passage enough;
but i'll admit, squash is a funnier version of tennis,
it's like two people playing a one-man game
of hitting a ball against the wall.*
darwinism isn't really an existential
anaesthetic, it's like a cancer
given the body is a history,
thanks to darwinism we're all
berry foragers in a forest of
whims and pampering of exacting circa;
i just loathe this objectivity
of cool being implanted in me:
so why would i pre-date cloning
with analogous generics of feeling
to make me into a bog-standard mr. smith?!
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
Perched on the Gravitron he scans the terrain of treadmills, stairmasters, aerobicycles
His eyes searching out someone with whom to nest,
To share some warmth, some care
Before soaring high to travel to places unknown.
I am warmed by another fire, a consuming fire which leaves its object intact, yet burns out the impurities bit by painful bit
I long for the comfort of a companion, the sharing of places we've been, the people we've seen
But I hold true to the hearth of the divine fire which promises constancy.
From my vantage point on the Polaris
My eyes follow
His eyes scanning the terrain of aerobicycles and
Rowing machines, looking for somewhere to rest his weary soul
His eyes engaging the eyes of a fellow traveller
And I know...
Once more, before he continues his flight,
He will find shelter.
1995
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
I thought I'd drop by the gym
and ride the bike awhile
maybe lift some weight
and at the ladies, smile
You can imagine my amazement
it's like the circus came to town
animals all over the equipment
working out, and losing pounds
Elephants on stair steppers
zebras, riding ellipticals, and bikes
rhinos and ducks, on the treadmills
running from porcupines, with spikes
The bears lifting free weights
and gators on all of the machines
snapping at those that pause to watch
as they do ten more reps, of eighteen
All the cats are in the classrooms
lions and tigers, leotards to adjust
aerobically lithe and unchallenged
as with all cats, flexibility, is a must
I quickly left without a sound
marking date and time for sure
this place wont be clean for days
sweeping up, hair, scales, and fur
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC
In this story I don't keep secrets
And tell you all about
Gunshots and fireworks
How they both sound the same
I always sit next to a window
Or a door
If it leads outdoors
I hate black and dark, small spaces and walls
Loud noises remind me of showers
And water pelting on empty tiles
Silence feels like loss
Or the calm before the storm I could never trust
But it's not that serious
I can take the loud and the silence
The gunshots and the fireworks
You won't even be able to see me flinch in the fraction of a millisecond it takes for you to blink
Nothing is serious
I laugh about everything
Even pain
And death
And how they were lucky to get an early exit ticket on this crazy ride
My biggest problem is I could never let things slide
Always questioning age old sanctions
I could never keep my mouth shut
Eyes closed
Feet moving forward
Maybe that's why I'm always changing
I'm different to who I was yesterday and last week
I don't even recognise the me years ago
The world was different then
It has ended for me many times
And began again in the morning
Sometimes when I'm toppling over and my insides can't contain the life
I don't have any room for oxygen
But you'll never know that
No one does
I'm good at hiding
And pretending
Make shift scenarios
Finding solutions
They work for me even if there's flaws in the theory behind them
I free fall in and out of everything
Planning never made any sense
Not when I didn't know where I'd be
I like running
On treadmills, on pavements, on planes
When it gets too comfortable I have an urge to rock the boat
New things keep you awake
And fresh
By the time you figured it out
It's time to move on
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Muscles ache,
Exhaustion sets in
My head is in a bit of a spin
What is this Gym, where people partake?
I thought you said Gin for goodness sake!
Kettle bells, weight machines, deadman lifts
Grin and bare it, lift, lift, lift!
Treadmills, rowing machines, standing bikes
Keep going 30 secs on, 15 secs off is what we like!
Muscle men and woman showing their skills
Pushing heavy weights just for thrills
My Person Trainer is one of the best
Until it comes to putting me to the test
Then i dont like him very much
He keeps me going when i just want to give up
However he knows my goals
And i trust he will get me there
So for the moment i grin and bare
I will keep going to the Gym
And of course partake in the ocassional Gin :)
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC
He told me he meant nothing
That his existence was void
How do you tell a man that his existence alone has taken the bullet out of the gun. Without his wisdom cliff tops would have turned to treadmills with legs giving out before the ******
He told me he doesn't want to wake up
That his hearts is on overtime
How can I tell this man his exoskeleton reflects the definition of perseverance. My father was a bad movie marathon I never watched. You sir have redefined father.
I told him he is a father to me
He has given me faith in altruism
Leaving the conversation
I thought of the gun
How It will always be there
Although we will not
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
You know what?
I want to dance!
Down the street without music
I know the song
It's memorized
Embossed on my brain
So you can have your Oldsmobile radio
But I WILL dance down the street
Deal with it
You know what?
I want to sing!
In the hills like Maria
A song all my own
And the hills and breeze will harmonize
And the stream will dance
So you can keep your televised singing reality
But I WILL sing in the hills
Deal with it
You know what?
I want to run!
Nowhere in particular
Just away
And that's perfectly OK
I need air in my lungs
So you can keep your treadmills
But I WILL run nowhere in particular
Deal with it
You know what?
I'm going to shout!
From the highest mountaintop
The world will hear my deepest cry
And with happy tears I'll finally cry
So you can live your life
But I WILL shout for mine
Deal with it
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 1:31 AM UTC
can we at least agree that what started
as a cartesian mind-body duality
complex, has suddenly become
a dichotomy, a ghetto for the mind
and a themepark for the body...
notably?
i still think it would be worthwhile
to look into producing gym electricity
by modifying treadmills
so that the hamsters could give back
something a field or an endless
chess board of slabbed concrete
effortlessly provides.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC