Muscled To Brawn — Journeyman’s Poems
A Laden Heart To Sweaty Chests, Brings All Upheaving Down To A Tidy Test
Muscle behests the untimely brawn
To naught
Cheeky and screaming
He came off
Into a plunge
Most sincerely cold —
Muscle begets the untimely brawn
And ever does he remain now
In his icy coffin
Slipped and wrapped
Eyes snap coldly away —
By mind and by halves
Sneaky and plumped
Darn pugs — toppling the observers
Muscle begets the speed for Death
Skipped and wrapped
The crowd wrestles its burden unto you —
Have and have:
He’s slipped, hereafter
Profound to the gnashing gap
Muscle besets the final decision
A fist loud — a fisting to loosen his godly thread,
The destination had — ain’t he glad?
For its the Pugs game, damned and gamed,
Yet the pulpit still remains the same
Whilst the pupil falls all eyes are on him
Smitten like the lively lover
He is a man entwined to the Ring and Cage —
As he ideally glances;
As he bides to the story to forbade — He?
Did he choose him as his vengeful to
This muscling Game;
Muscle behests the untimely haul —
Whom to whom?
Tides the laden feust
When brave man's heart comes
To naught
He stifles himself into
The icy bouts
Of strapping belts and cooling coffins
Stealing laughs turn about
Into a victory liner
Though a victory lasting in the
Ever laughing — ever gleaming halls of fame,
So his stories go swell
Like the bruise rasped under the eye
By the veil that catches —
Catches… catches… Catches —
Catches — catches — catches
The last rounding fist of a fisticuff
That deems him ever more to memory.
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