Temper, Lover of Mine

Temper-
now, now, there. He is 
man of raging waters-
ease flees  his body 
Like birds spooked by passing train.
Time and truths drag down his shoulders as

He walks his well-worn path to 
Earn his well-worn dollar.
His arms limp to pick the tempest bottle
That fill his flaccid faith with the warmth of a hundred singing choirs.
Temper, now - hallelujah, hallelujah
He fills his cup - king of kings-
and pours it down the funnel of his spine,
And like the clown that blows up balloon animals
He blows up a lion
blows up a fighting cock-
He blows himself up into hope-into happy.
Temper man, mine,
I am branches of his trees
Snapping in the sudden gale
The storm that brews beneath his feet.
I am what he preserves - 
what he destroys
Makes me like one of his castles
That 
drip-drop
drip -drop 
rise in the sand
I rise, towers blossom fragile 
Queen of Drip-drop Land
- temper man watches it all wash away
I am sullen and silent and stirring 
His madness alive 
as he tangos with electrified demons on the beach where I puddle.
Oh how tiring it all is,
And he'll wake to drag his medal with him
As he walks the dusty road to clutch his dusty dollar 
So he may do it all again.


Shan 01/05/15

The Recovering Judgeaholic

Joined a gym, I did. Yes. A new resolutioner. A Janfirster. I am the one in the middle aged persons sweats, with the middle age persons pouch and that shaky, spreading hiney. I'm giving it a go. I'm all in. After a summer of recovering from a fairly significant ankle injury I decided I need to strengthen the bod and perhaps knock off a bit of these cookie crumbs that have wormed their way in to my system. (Damn you, girl scout! *shakes hand in the air*) 
It's a lovely gym, cheap and clean. The staff is not entirely fit so that's comforting. The amenities are two massage chairs and four tanning booths. Yup. That's it. It's fine though, isn't it? We are all there to sweat and become stronger and if I am reading the wall correctly...we are all there to not judge each other. I don't belong there then. I am judgy. I judge the lady on the treadmill in a skirt. I judge the young boy sitting on the equipment I am ready to use because he is on his phone. I judge the woman jogging and the man on the stepper. I am judgeymcjudgington. They should kick me out, if they only knew. Still, there is another side to this. It's my you are my sister side. I look at the sea of overweight middle agers and I know that most of this resolve will fade away (as will mine if I am not careful) but here we are. A sea of hope. Sweaty, rolly, chubby hope. And sometimes when I am staring at you on the incline of the treadmill (making it look very much like a podium as i hold on for dear life) as I stare at you I send a little prayer out into the universe. I send a goodwill prayer, a hold on prayer and lastly, a you can do it prayer. We are all brothers-in-chub and your success is my success. So here's to us: The Janfirsters, may we melt into beauty and health by march! *clink*