HotRodZilla
GOD BLESS AMERICA
I have ******* tears in my eyes you idiots.
First tank scratch poem
- Thread starter Zolton
- Start date
Help Support Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum:
I don't know about you, but I don't get tears in my eyes when I do that.
Maybe I would if it was long enough between times, I dunno.
Rolavine
Well-known member
After the left
I hit Growing onions and dill
blinding Pacific
turning metal
earplug silence
mind 'n space 'n time
nothing but this movement
sexlike momentum falling forward
no distraction
no desire but this,
except, I notice
my blinker is on
pointing, no doubt,
to the road less traveled.
I hit Growing onions and dill
blinding Pacific
turning metal
earplug silence
mind 'n space 'n time
nothing but this movement
sexlike momentum falling forward
no distraction
no desire but this,
except, I notice
my blinker is on
pointing, no doubt,
to the road less traveled.
RadioHowie
I Miss Beemerdons!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Too many hours listening to too much early Pink Floyd through headphones.
Too many hours listening to too much early Pink Floyd through headphones.
Bungie
FrostBack #2 - IBA # 44620
Only that it had the word 'accident' in it about 15 times...I'd like to hear the Marty Drop poem by Brody.Can you recall it?
![Decrum Motorcycle Jacket Men - Mens Leather Jacket | [1100065] Austin Brown, XL](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/41HqZSRj6LL._SL500_.jpg)
That's groovy, man. I can dig it. :drag:
Well, that sure makes the rhyming part easy...Only that it had the word 'accident' in it about 15 times...I'd like to hear the Marty Drop poem by Brody.
Last edited by a moderator:
BwanaDik
Well-known member
Woketman
Well-known member
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I love my brand new '06 FJR1300AE,
And you love your Feejer too!
Violets are blue,
I love my brand new '06 FJR1300AE,
And you love your Feejer too!
Last edited by a moderator:
Wocketman,
That poem was downwight cwappy. Pwease twy to be mow cweative in the futuwe..
That poem was downwight cwappy. Pwease twy to be mow cweative in the futuwe..
Last edited by a moderator:
Woketman
Well-known member
Okay, here ya go!!!
Feejers are silver,
Feejers are blue,
Hope yours is silver,
As mine is too! :yahoo:
(actually I wanted the blue, but no dice)
Feejers are silver,
Feejers are blue,
Hope yours is silver,
As mine is too! :yahoo:
(actually I wanted the blue, but no dice)
Last edited by a moderator:
chrisflock
FJR nose gunner
The headers glow red
The midpipes have turned blue
At FJR nominal I head
In search of a view...
The midpipes have turned blue
At FJR nominal I head
In search of a view...
Rolavine
Well-known member
Yeah, I'm approaching 60 and learned of the beats while being a hippie.
I actually wrote a Limrick first but given the subject was a woman in front of me drving her econobox all over the road, the last work kept coming out something obvious that rhymed with 'hunt'. I really don't like to use one of my favorite things ever, as an insult.
opening of Ginsberg's Howl, 'greatest beat poem ever'
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at
dawn looking for an angry fix.....
Last edited by a moderator:
Ginsberg was probably the best of the beats, and "Howl" the greatest of the beat/hippie poems. Its got power, man.
Funny how I can remember that.
This is from another member of the counterculture...sort of:
But with the throttle screwed on, there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right... and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are the wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it... howling through a turn to the right, then to the left, and down the long hill to Pacifica... letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge... The Edge... There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others- the living- are those who pushed their luck as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later. But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions.
Funny how I can remember that.
This is from another member of the counterculture...sort of:
But with the throttle screwed on, there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right... and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are the wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it... howling through a turn to the right, then to the left, and down the long hill to Pacifica... letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge... The Edge... There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others- the living- are those who pushed their luck as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later. But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions.
Last edited by a moderator:
Similar threads
