You'll never see me in the red leather. I don't have the chin for it.
quote by Joe Pantoliano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hell Bent For Leather
Seek him here, seek him on the highway
Never knowing when hell appear
All await, engines ticking over
Hear the roar as they sense the fear
Wheels! a glint of steel and a flash of light!
Screams! from a streak of fire as he strikes!
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Black as night, faster than a shadowcrimson flare from a raging sun
An exhibition, of sheer precision
Yet no one knows from where he comes
Fools! self destruct cannot take that crown
Dreams! crash one by one to the ground
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A girl in leather shoes
I am a girl in leather shoes
without socks, a girl who has
no need of socks, a girl
who has few friends-
but doesn't need any.
A strong girl, with real opinions
in her head; sockless in her leather shoes,
a girl whose stride is purposeful,
feet secure inside the leather,
a girl who wears nothing artificial,
who takes in nothing not genuine-
And if she should ever sweat,
this brave, sockless girl,
who knows exactly where she is going
safe in her leather
and her strong opinions-
she would never, never let it show.
poem by Patti Masterman
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My shoes
My shoes were brought to me on order
from Zimbabwe by a missionary,
a man who sell bibles
and sometimes give them away,
just before Robert Mugabe
did root out the manufacturers and sellers
and the rest of my order went to waste
with another pair of buffalo leather shoes
and a buffalo leather jacket as well.
The black handmade elephant leather shoes
do tread far roads with me,
they try to walk on the tracks
of my deceased father,
try to stand up with integrity
like my late grandmother wanted.
The other day I had them re-soled,
to lay down some more tracks
and the elephant leather
might last a life time
and I wonder how the future
folds open before them?
poem by Gert Strydom
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It is easier to put leather on the soles of one's feet than cover the world with leather.
Leather Rebel
Hero of the night.
Blood and thunder rushing through me
Till the dawn of light
The sky is turning red
Like a renegade
All alone I walk through fire
Till I crash and blaze
I'm living on the edge
Start a chain reaction
Sears the neon light
Stealing all the action
Always takes the fight
Leather Rebel
Lightning in the dark
Leather Rebel
With a burning heart
Master of the streets
Bullet proof and bound for glory
Cities at my feet
I'm turning on the power
Running wild and free
No-one dares to stand before me
That's my destiny
To rule the darkest hours
I can see my future:
Writings on the wall
Legend in my lifetime
Stories will recall
Leather Rebel
Lightning in the dark
Leather Rebel
With a burning heart
I can see my future:
Writings on the wall
Legend in my lifetime
Stories will recall
Leather Rebel
Lightning in the dark
Leather Rebel
With a burning heart
Leather Rebel
song performed by by Judas Priest from Painkiller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This morning I lock the cold wind out
This morning I lock the cold wind out
with a nice hot leather jacket
that I zip close up to my chin
and on the motorbike
my hands are almost frozen,
but my thoughts are with you.
While I pass a string of cars
I wonder if you are stuck in traffic
or already at work?
It’s as if your eyes are burning into my soul
and constantly you accompany me
in my thoughts
to all the places that I go.
As if I will somewhere leave the road
and you will also get off the bike
and in a coffee shop
will take my hands in yours.
poem by Gert Strydom
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There was a Young Lady whose chin
Resembled the point of a pin;
So she had it made sharp,
And purchased a harp,
And played several tunes with her chin.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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Romancing The Beard
What women are attracted to
Though to some it may seem weird
Is a man who has a curl-i-que
That we’ve come to call a beard
They seem to love what’s hair-ly
On the chin and down below
That hair they find so rarely
Is that hair that they can’t grow
They love that tickly feeling
When caressing bearded men
Those beards just send them reeling
For those men they have a yen
These ladies have this craving
For men with chin filled bristles
These men who do no shaving
Who have these chin filled frizzles
A beard can really dazzle
When covering a jawline
With it’s sexy kind of frazzle
It can dazzle any fraulein
poem by Stanley Cooper
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I deliberately decided to write a kind of guide to leather bars for straight people, for people not into leather, so that people could see what it was all about.
Our Fragile Selves
people always
do not know the real us
we are always this
stuff inside
gold-plated and
on elaborate
inamoratas
people theorizes us
like some political guesses
revolutions that do not
materialize
peace that always trembles
on false alarms
we invoke the law of
our privacy
our intimate parts remain
hidden
in our fragile underwear
people do not know us
we have always been fearless and free
they sleep on their silly
speculations and we greet them with
smileys on the road
in the room i lean on a leather chair
rest my chin on my hand
and read the world from afar
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rhythm
When red is black and petals blue
And in my sleepless head our love's been dead a week or two
Sometimes good times are stuck inside of you
And then they're gone. But I don't know why
A lot of things have changed since you said goodbye
There are reasons for you to love me
But I gave you none
So I tap my glass and nod my chin
And wonder who you've been in rhythm with
Sometimes just time, cause can't escape
When clouds are playing close, not often too far away
Blue has no value, power over you
Open skies, relationless
Carelessness is what I miss
And that's how I think of you
Sometimes good times are all we have to do
So I tap my glass and nod my chin
And wonder who you've been in rhythm with
So I tap my glass and nod my chin
And wonder who you've been in rhythm with
[Beautiful]
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To a Pair of Blucher Boots
OLD acquaintance unforgotten,
Though you may be “ugly brutes”—
Though your leather’s cracked and rotten,
Worn-out pair of Blucher boots.
’Tis the richer man before you,
Dearer leathers grace his feet;
’Twas the better man that wore you
In the tramps through dust and heat!
Oft rebuffed by “super’s” snarling,
When I asked him for a “show”,
On that long tramp to the Darling
In the days of long ago;
Tell me, if you know it, whether,
As I sadly tramped away,
Bore I heavy on your leather,
Worn-out pair of Bluchers, say?
Though your leather’s cracked and rotten,
Though you may be ugly brutes,
I’ll preserve you unforgotten,
Worn-out pair of Blucher boots!
poem by Henry Lawson
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How Long Has This Been Going On
I could cry some chin-chin tears
Where have I been all these years
A little while come on tell me now
How long has this been going on
What a kick and how I buzz
My son you click like nobody does
Listen sweet I repeat
How long has this been going on
Chorus:
I feel like I could melt right into heaven
Ive heard
And now I know how columbus felt
Finding another world
Kiss me once and then again once more
God what a dunce I was before
What a break for heaven sake
How long has this been going on
Chorus
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mirror Never Lies
The mirror once told me that
My face was smooth and cute
My chin as bare as the Sahara
As the Sun counted our days
The moon counted our nights
And seasons exchanged fortunes
The mirror told me something new
All the smoothness is gone
As if it has been different ever since
My chin has turned into a bush
The mirror showed me a total stranger
This morning!
1999
poem by Yusuf Adamu
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Opposites
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Walked out into the street
And splashed in all the pubbles till
She had such shocking feet
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
Stayed quietly in the house
And sat upon the fender stool
As still as any mouse.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Her hands were black as ink;
She would come running through the house
And begging for a drink.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
Her hands were white as snow;
She did not like to play around,
She only liked to sew.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Lost hair ribbons galore;
She dropped them on the garden walks,
She dropped them on the floor.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
O thoughtful little girl!
She liked to walk quite soberly,
It kept her hair in curl.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
When she was glad or proud
Just flung her arms round Mother's neck
And kissed her very loud.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
Was shocked at such a sight,
She only offered you her cheek
At morning and at night.
O Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Your happy laughing face
Does like a scented Summer rose
Make sweet the dullest place.
O Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
My dear, I'm well content
To have my daughter in my arms,
And not an ornament.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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The Leather Bottel
Now God alone that made all things,
Heaven and earth and all that's in,
The ships that in the seas do swim
To keep out foes from coming in,
Then every one does what he can,
All for the good and use of man:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
Now what d'ye say to cans of wood?
Faith, they're naught, they cannot be good;
For when a man for beer doth send,
To have them fill'd he doth intend;
The bearer stumbles by the way
And on the ground the beer doth lay;
Then doth the man begin to ban,
And swears 'twas long o' the wooden can;
But had it been in a leather bottel
It had not been so, for all had been well,
And safe therein it would remain
Until the man got up again:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
What do you say to glasses fine?
Faith, they shall have no praise of mine;
For when a man's at table set
And by him several sorts of meat,
The one loves flesh, the other fish,
Then with your hand remove a dish,
Touch but the glass upon the brim,
The glass is broke, and naught left in,
The table-cloth though ne'er so fine
Is soil'd with beer, or ale, or wine,
And doubtless for so small abuse
A servant may his service lose:
But I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
What say you to the handled pot?
No praise of mine shall be its lot;
For when a man and wife's at strife,
As many have been in their life,
They lay their hands upon it both
And break the same although they're loth;
But woe to them shall bear the guilt,
Between them both the liquor's spilt,
For which they shall answer another day,
Casting so vainly their liquor away;
But if it had been leather-bottel'd,
One might have tugg'd, the other have held,
Both might have tugg'd till their hearts should break,
No harm the leather bottel could take:
Then I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
What say you to flagons of silver fine?
Why, faith, they shall have no praise of mine;
For when a lord for sack doth send,
To have them fill'd he doth intend,
The man with the flagon runs away
And never is seen after that day;
The lord then begins to swear and ban
For having lost both flagon and man;
But had it been either by page or groom
With a leather bottel it had come home:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell,
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
And when this bottel is grown old
And that it will no longer hold,
Out o' the side you may cut a clout
To mend your shoes when they're worn out;
Then hang the rest up on a pin,
'Twill serve to put odd trifles in,
As rings, and awls, and candles' ends,
For young beginners have such things:
And I wish in Heaven his soul may dwell
That first devis'd the leather bottel.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Shock Me
Your lightnins all I need
My satisfaction grows
You make me feel at ease
You even make me glow
Dont cut the power on me
Im feelin low, so get me high
Shock me, make me feel better
Shock me, put on your black leather
Shock me, we can come together
And baby, if you do what youve been told
My insulations gone, girl you make me overload
Dont pull the plug on me, no, no
Keep it in and keep me high
Shock me, make me feel better
Shock me, put on your black leather
Shock me, we can come together
Come on
Shock me, baby, shock me, oh yeah
Shock me, baby, shock me, oh yeah
Shock me, make me feel better, oh yeah
Come on and shock me, put on your black leather
Baby, Im down to the bare wire
Shock me, we can come together
Oh yeah, I wanna feel your power
Shock me, make me feel better
Baby, Im down to the bare wire
Shock me, put on your black leather
Baby, come on, come on, shock me
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buttercup
Summer is brought
through this lemon zest
of colour-
reflected under the chin,
means, that you like
a flavour.
And in the meadows
of childhood,
and Laughter's happiness,
caught between
the embrace of trees,
at Glendalough,
we sit together.
Like buttercups
In the meadow of laughter,
A reflection upon my chin,
and smile and
laughter,
like a buttercup in
The summer meadow,
Your happiness,
reflects and refracts.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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I wear my heart in my shoes
Home is where the heart is,
I probably carry mine in my shoes,
Shoes of leather, sturdy, used & worn,
covered in mud.
The British countryside,
All Hills and bumps
and wide open fields,
Muddy & Wet,
Dotted with quaint little towns,
Rivers Runny Through.
Home is where the heart is,
My home is between my stinking socks,
and my leather sole.
If home is where my heart is,
I tread on it everyday,
I probably wear it in my shoes.
poem by Sam Seymour
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Epitaph For Joseph Blackett, Late Poet And Shoemaker
Stranger! behold, interr'd together,
The souls of learning and of leather.
Poor Joe is gone, but left his all:
You'll find his relics in a stall.
His works were neat, and often found
Well stitch'd, and with morocco bound.
Tread lightly -- where the bard is laid
He cannot mend the shoe he made;
Yet is he happy in his hole,
With verse immortal as his sole.
But still to business he held fast,
And stuck to Phobus to the last.
Then who shall say so good a fellow
Was only 'leather and prunella?'
For character - he did not lack it
And if he did, 'twere shame to 'Black it.
Malta, May 16, 1811.