The young Brother walked forward,
His face sad and drawn.
He held out a callused hand,
And felt these scars were wrong.

The Iron God stepped up,
And smacked his hands with a clap,
And through the chalky mist, he said.
�Young Brother, what is this crap?�

The young Brother drew away and sniffed,
Hid his eyes while wiping a tear.
�I�ve given you my best Iron God,
And bled Iron for a solid year!�

�It seems that I make no gains,
There was a time, I thought I could.
And the pain is getting harder,
It causes more harm now�than good!�

The Iron God stood there staring,
Then locked on the young one�s eyes.
He searched his mind from �Back in the Day�,
And re-called something clever and wise.

� Your ashamed of those hands,
But wear those calluses with pride.
For many an Iron Brother,
With callused hands lay down and died.�

�It�s not how many sets,
Nor the exercise�now is it.
It�s when you feel the pain,
And it makes you want to quit.�

The young Brother hung his head,
And flexed those callused hands.
�But Iron God�, he said so softly,
�You just don�t understand.�

�Down there we are out numbered,
And the common one�s are the worst.
They look and stare�they use bad form,
And they say the Iron Brothers are cursed.�

�They never hit the squat rack,
And sometimes I have fallen prey.
Then they leave, and I�m in the zone,
But they�re back, the very next day.�

The Iron God squared his jaw,
Then tapped a thick, scarred finger.
And on the young Brother�s face,
His eyes did sadly linger.

�This Iron war is not won,
By those who just say,�Screw it�,
It is won by the Iron Brother�s,
Who decide they can do it!�

�But what about the common one�s,
Who are misled in their lives.
They�ve never felt the pain I know,
I can see it in their eyes?�

�You cannot help them young Brother,
Nor dictate their sad chosen path.
You cannot stop their ignorance,
Nor heal their weekend wrath�s.�

�Bleed Iron at the Iron Bar Throne,
And the pain will someday cease.
Then return to your one room house,
If only for an hour�know your peace!�

�But Iron God�, the young Brother started,
His heart heavy with lead.
�I know the common one�s down there,
They wish that I were dead!�

�I feel their stares burning,
They laugh and fling their mud.
Yet, who is there to thank me?
When I sweat my Iron Blood?�

The Iron God pursed his lips,
His answer lay unknown.
For he to had felt the pain,
A pain that hurts to the bone.

�There are no easy answers,
For the ache that you feel.
But appreciation, and their praise,
I�m afraid ain�t a part of the deal.�

�The respect will come with gratitude,
And admiration from the Iron Brother�s too!
But, it will not come from the common one�s,
Who cannot do what we can do!�

The young Brother felt the tears,
And looked down at his callused hands.
He knew he could not quit,
As he had already planned.

For now, he saw those callused hands,
Not just as something he does.
They are not just a symbol,
IT MADE HIM WHAT HE WAS!

AN IRON BROTHER

RANGER

Ranger for inspiration.

Ranger: You got mail...

Ranger: You got mail...

The inspiration comes for YOU...My Iron Brothers and Sister's!!!

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Jeff

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Pitbull

Keep them comming...

Thanks again.

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SIZE MATTERS MOST

"Obsession is passion. Use it. Make it your strength." -by Puc

Another great poem bro, looks like ya got some more GHB in huh? J/K.

Nice poem bro

Plates

Dexter

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Big-Al
Train hard or go home!

Ill be expecting this in my personal inbox bro..!!!...

Another for my Ranger shrine..

WCP

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Jeff

How Inspirational is that poem/short story.

I have just taken breath to better days ahead in thr GYM.!!!!!

:::::::::::B U M P ::::::::::