[Antaletriangle]

Around the block, against the clock:
tick tock, tick tock, tick tock;
running out of breath, running out of socks;
rubber on the road; flippety flop;
non-skid agility; chop chop,
no time to hang about!
Work out, health fanatic, work out.

The crack of dawn, lifting weights;
a tell-tale heart reverberates;
high in polyunsaturates,
low in polysaturates;
a Duke of Edinburgh's award awaits.
It's a man's life;
he's a health fanatic; so was his wife.

A one-man war against decay.
Enjoys himself the hard way;
allows himself a Mars a day.
"How old am I? What do I weigh?
Punch me there! Does it hurt? No way!"
Running on the spot, don't get too hot;
he's a health fanatic, that's why not.

Peanut power; stay ahead,
running through the traffic jam taking in the lead.
Hyperactivity keeps him out of bed.
Deep down he'd like to kick it in the head.
They'll regret it when they're dead:
there's more to life than fun;
he's a health fanatic; he's got to run.

Beans, greens and tangerines
and low cholesterol margarines;
his limbs are loose, his teeth are clean;
he's a high octane fresh-air fiend.
You've got to admit he's keen.
What can you do but be impressed;
he's a health fanatic. Give it a rest!

Shadow-boxing; punch the wall;
One-a-side football;
"What's the score?" "One all."
Could have been a copper; too small.
Could have been a jockey; too tall.
Knees up, knees up! Head the ball!
Nervous energy makes him tick;
he's a health fanatic. He makes you sick!

-- John Cooper Clarke

-- ---------------------------------------------
KUBLA KHAN.

(or, a Vision in a Dream, a Fragment)

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

-- Samuel Taylor Coleridge