Stricken with A mummy’s curse To waste away To slough and spurt As bodies melt Into emptiness Prognosis lost And second best A life lived short And lost again Unfulfilled A sea of pain This mummy’s curse Will take you down And leave you wanting In the ground For more Poetry, click here. For moreContinue reading “Mummy’s Curse. A poem.”
A tightness in my torso In my arm and in my jaw Unlike anything I’ve felt before (Maybe indigestion, it’s a start) Everything I know says fit Healthy, young of heart This dreaded feeling I confess Grips me harder than the vice Squeezing life from my chest For more Poetry, click here. For more ofContinue reading “Vice. A poem.”
Brown, blood-streaked breadcrumb entree Built to serve Consistently It roils and rocks In the mouth, awash Then on it floats Sea of acid wash A meal of kings A grand entry Ignominious exit Consistency Brown, blood-streaked A warning bell To the doctor, now And time will tell For more Poetry, click here. For more ofContinue reading “Steak Sandwich. A poem.”
It’s been a few years since I disappeared in a puddle of self-limiting self-destruction. It seems my years of wallowing and despondency are coming to a close. That’s not to say my depression has gone away. My favourite black dog is right beside me as always, although his ever-present bark is lessened somewhat by theContinue reading “The road gone…but not forgotten.”
See what I did there? Okay, well it sounded funny at the time*. I have been lying in bed recovering from my torn calf for the last week and a half (grrrrr…). Being the fitness-addicted idiot that I am, I decided that it was time to get back to exercising before I went stir crazy.Continue reading “Training Without Calves (or, Cows With Guns)”
I hate having depression. It’s not hard to guess what I wrote this poem about.
As you may or may not know, I’m a bit of a health nut. I work out regularly, get plenty of cardio, try to eat right, read fitness magazines, and so forth.
Over time I’ve picked up a few things here and there to keep healthy.
I’m just finishing my fifth set of weighted pull ups – that’s where you hang a 20 kilograms barbell from your belt and do correct form pull ups from a suspended chin up bar – when Alpha Girl enters and stands with her arms crossed. “You sweat a lot,” she says. “And do you have to grunt so loudly?”