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Thread started by Fader Freak at 10.31.07 - 6:44 pm
I've eaten my fair share o bugs
Turning my feet in circles
While the rest of this country motors
and cares little for the truth...
anyhow, where is the truth
when I'm on my bicycle,
light go green, light stay green,
light go red, but wishing it was green,
yah yah yah yah yah yah yah
yes yes yes yes yes yes yes
Make me a bike
that won't break down
build me a bike
to race through town.
I want to smell the exhaust
instead of creating it.
I want to laugh at the cars
instead of being part o the joke.
The joke however, is on us all,
bikes are for lovers,
bikes are for lovers,
yah yah yah yah yah yah yah
yes yes yes yes yes yes yes
just whatever you do - do not write a love poem to your bike, stick it in your seat tube, leave itt there for years while riding in the rain and snow and dripping wet NY summers, to rust your bike from the inside out.
I can also do haiku, cowboy poetry, sonnets, balladry, double dactyls, doggerel, limericks (dirty or clean), and elegiac poetry. You name the subject and I'll bang out some trite-assed rhyming verse to suit it. I am available for work immediately! Hire me!
If anyone is interested, they're screening "The 400 Blows" at Silent Movie Theater on fairfax tonight at 730. I'm gonna try to make this AND ride arc. We'll see.....
The kids on my street were acrobats.
They were dirt clods and fistfights
And tightrope tops of fences.
When the bus stopped at the corner
In front of Vincent's house, we'd scatter
Below garage doors and into refrigerators,
Or under doormats on damp cement.
After Kool-Aid or brown grass and dog poop,
We'd push shovels into holes for hideouts,
Or pedal and pull handlebars up gritty curbs.
From cannons of concrete block and splintered plywood,
Coaster brakes and seat posts and shinny grins
Fly and fail to gravel dirt and bleeding chin.
The SkidMarcus, named Marcoose, will see you in,
please note fourteen Mini-bicycles to ride,
then feast your eyes on the zebra drawn carraige
pulling a '92 Buick two clowns and a tandem,
SkidDancing & the citytransit authority - not laughing.
Make way now through Smoothest-Cement-Best-
Ever-Bicycle-Suface Hall... where giraffes inspect
Squirells jumping from oak trees, their reflections off mirrors,
a firebug light show with cricket accompanment,
frogs ballroom dancing near the furnace, two foxes lurking,
DON'T STAND TOO CLOSE TO THE VELOCIRAPTOR CAGE!!!!
First course served at nine, won't you enjoy this wine,
feast on these tall bikes, made special for tonight,
Quick, follow me out to the bridges over Starfish Ponds,
Let's alight now next to this translucent corral reef,
and at first light we'll know if it's a beat scene.
I'm a little track bike,
short and stout,
here are my handlebars,
here is my clout,
when you ride me round
all the hipsters scream and shout,
so turn my crank,
and take me out.
Make me work,
punish my chain,
freak my gears,
thihgs burn burn burn.
When you get to bed,
dream of riding me again,
When you need to be fed,
come to the Cub Den.
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Ridazz Roulette!
