Posted this about two years ago (xmas poem)
Remembered posting my poem a few years ago at this time...found the thread in the main forum and bumped it, but wanted a few people to view it here as well.
Remember, this was written about two years ago, when i was a struggling undergrad.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the my pad
Not a bicep was flexing, this builder was mad;
The pinz were all stored in the nightstand with care,
In hopes that my delivery soon would be there;
The lifters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of vascularity danced in their heads;
My glutamine taken and the glycerlean next,
I pouted on the couch while bouncing my pecs,
When out on the porch there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew wicked quick,
Hoping my source hadn’t gone scammer and there’d be oils to stick.
The neon Store-24 sign on the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the package below,
My traps still sore as I crooked my neck to see,
a package from Mexico – marked urgent delivery,
No seizure letter, no agent, my gear was here it was true
I knew in a moment my source had come through;
Like post-holiday gluttons to a new gym they came,
I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, D-BOL! now, WINSTROL! now, DECA and EQ!
On, CLOMID! on CLEN! on, NOLVA and TEST!
To the top of the stairs! Cancel that trip to the mall!
Now stash away! stash away! stash away all!"
And then, in a twinkling, I fumbled with the pin
drew out the test and jabbed the f’er in.
The gear plunged in, I spotted the mirror and turned ‘round,
”Hey I already look bigger, soon I’ll be muscle-bound.”
Standing in my boxers, I hit a rear double bi,
Twenty-five pounds later and I won’t even recognize this guy;
A bundle of muscles will emerge on my back,
Who cares how I'll look with my gear-toting fanny pack.
My bis -- how they’ll peak! How Christmas has become merry!
These calves will finally grow, cuz I’ve popped my cherry!
My quads will explode, this six pack’ll finally show
I’ll be wearing tank tops, even in snow;
Repping out on shoulder shrugs while I grit my teeth,
Next Christmas my neck won’t fit through that wreath;
Say hello to the whole wheat pasta, goodbye to the belly
hello to those cuts and goodbye to peanut butter and jelly.
I was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
But with my gear in hand I’ll shock even myself;
With a scowl on my face and earphones on my head,
Those yuppies on treadmills will have something to dread;
I’ll speak not a word, but go straight to my work,
Deadlifts and squats – maybe a clean-and-jerk,
Break out the scissors, I’m cutting holes in my clothes,
There’ll be no room for these arms after pump ‘n pose;
I sprang in the car, off to hit the gym,
It’s open 24-7, no more Mr. Slim.
Peeling out of the driveway, I just missed my bro Michael,
Though rounding the corner I managed to shout, “Merry Xmas to all, and to all a good cycle!”
*DISCLAIMER: BigGreen does not see gear as a quick fix, but rather constucted this poem as a parody of those who do.
