Motorbike riding
When you drive a motorbike,
feel the wind cutting through your hair
there is a kind of pleasure that you experience.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Grey land traveller
One day in summer
when the freeway is open,
I will take the Honda
and turn the accelerator open
until the revolution counter
touches the red.
One day I will see
what my motorbike is able to do
when I drive from here to Cape Town
with all the power that it has
and see how the speed needle
goes past the last mark.
One day I will feel
it roaring under me
and cut lightning fast
past cars, pickups and lorries
and speed will make
that it seems
as if I am coming out of the road itself
and I will be like a spectre.
One day I will really know
how much power my motorbike has
and will be part of the wind,
the sun and freedom
and the road will belong to me
and I to the road.
One day time will stop for me
and I might never reach the Cape
and will drive into the grey land
and maybe you
will read about me in the newspapers
and a motorbike
that lies in pieces for a distance of kilometres.
poem by Gert Strydom
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There are few things in life
I
There are few things in life
that will equate,
the freedom
that you get on a motorbike.
II
Speed and power is something
that can easily grab you
and maybe you can fetch the same
adrenalin rush
if you parachute
or go down with a bungi rope,
but it’s maybe better to be part
of a iron horse
and alone with your self
and with the wind and the sun
see the road flashing by.
III
Let cars stand in rows
and busses full of unknown people
stop at many places,
while my blue motorbike
passes them
and drive to my destination.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The joy of the road
It’s a big joy
to take the road
and drive past cornfields
and to get the sweet sour smell
that water leaves there
for the first time
in your nose.
It’s a big joy
to drive on a road
that allures black in front of you
and goes up and down through the landscape.
There’s something indescribable
if you become part
of the sun and the wind
and with a motorbike
to find your place
in the world around you.
There’s something magical
to hear the insects
in the bushes
outside of Pieter Maritzburg
and to smell the summer sun
on the plantation trees.
Still greater is
to catch the smell of the see
on the wind
to see the blue waters
lying in the distance,
while free like a bird
you drive nearer to it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Biker with the big heart
His heart is big,
so big as if
he can fit the whole world into it,
but there’s only place for two
on his motorbike
and while the refs
of the years climb
his life slides past
with a speed leading to a end
and the loneliness grips him
as his mate has been gone for a long time,
missed life
and wasn’t on time
for their last motorcycle ride
and now it’s only him
who are alone
in the saddle of life
and at times he still wants to open the throttle,
feel the wind flow though his hair
washing like a river in flood,
experience the heat of the sun
and feel the adrenaline
flowing like something living through him,
but the road is far too long
and the end stays distant
as he doesn’t reach the intersection
of life and death
and his love and melancholy remains
and the biker always drives on
searching for answers
that doesn’t exist.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Thinking Of You
here I am thinking of you again
you have captured a piece of my heart
of my soul
to keep forever
I want to feel your loving touch
to feel shivers of excitement run though my body
feel the drive for your touch
I want to see your eyes dancing
with every touch of my hand
the thought of us together again
makes me want you all over again
to pleasure you
would pleasure me
I wish she didn’t see
it would have been so wonderful
to pleasure you once more
I wonder how many orgasms I could have given you
I wish you could have shown me just how sensitive I really am
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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I drive a lot. Just for pleasure. Sometimes I'll get in the Cadillac and drive around the city or the country, kind of trying to get lost basically. Y'know, just see where roads lead.
quote by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cutting It Fine
The door swings open but you wont go it
You hate the movie that you havent seen
You couldnt see what I have in mind
I see you laughing but youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
You never should have done those things to me
Theres one thread left tween you and history
And while our temperature is rising high
Im warning you that you are
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...
You gambled all on one important game
Now take the debt and dont complain
Your game was up, I saw it all the time
I saw that vice, girl, youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Your sole advisor watch out for yourself
You never listen to anyone else
You were the one who ignored the signs
Dancing on a fine line
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodbye to purple covered Jacaranda trees
Goodbye to purple covered Jacaranda trees
which line the streets
and the great laagered fort on the hill
telling stories of times past,
the university on the knoll
next to which I once lived
waving with buildings and towers
sending its greetings into the sky
while I drive away fast
and the motorbike’s wheels sings whispering
do not look back
and its engine howls its cry against the wind
weeping instead of me
while I drive away from the city
that I love and where I cannot stay.
The bike flashes on in a blur
passing trucks and cars
racing on the highway
as if searching for the sun
and my heart is lost
and pain rips through me
with the parting from you
while I drive away
and I cannot understand
the seasons of the heart
and it is goodbye
to you too.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ride Cowboy Ride
Up in the morning at the break of day
You'll hear a big bearded cowboy at the chuck wagon say
"Gather 'round boys, the coffee's hot on the fire
There's a full day of branding, we're heating the iron
I want to smell that scorched hair and burning hide
The horses have grain boys, they're ready to ride
Roll up your bed rolls and jump in your boots
Daylight is a-wastin', boys, it's out of the shoots"
Come on and ride, cowboy, ride
Roll up your riatas and pull your sombreros down tight
We're going to ride, ride, ride where the trail will wind
You'd better drive, drive, drive or we'll leave you behind
Come on and ride, ride, ride, cowboy, ride
It's a beautiful morning and you've had a good rest
You ropers get ready to be at your best
Saddle them ponies and tighten the cinch (Yahoo!)
Pull on your gloves and take your hat off the fence
We'll take the cattle to market, and after they're sold
You can all let your hair down, get lazy or bold
Riding to town to find a lady or two
She'll take you by the arms and shake the dust off your boots
Come on and ride, cowboy, ride
Roll up your riatas and pull your sombreros down tight
We're going to ride, ride, ride where the trail will wind
You'd better drive, drive, drive or we'll leave you behind
Come on and ride, ride, ride, cowboy, ride
Come on and ride, cowboy, ride
Roll up your riatas and pull your sombreros down tight
We're going to ride, ride, ride where the trail will wind
You'd better drive, drive, drive or we'll leave you behind
Come on and ride, ride, ride, cowboy, ride
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain drive
I see a big storm
hanging dark against the sky
and lightning bolts,
that hit smashing to the ground.
There are big drops
that hit whipping down
and the black road
wet and somewhat slippery.
There’s no way
to ride away from the storm
and the traffic
stand still in front of me,
but with a motorbike
you can cut past cars.
It’s as if clouds of steam
rise out of the hot tar road,
but the screen
of the helmet
is covered by the rain
that I have difficulty seeing
to were to go
and which cars are moving or standing.
With Soutpansberg avenue that lies open before me
I open the throttle
and there’s wind, rain
and thunders that fall flashing blue
around me
and resound somewhere behind the motorbike
and the rain on my hands
hits like hail.
.
The leather jacket keeps the top of my body dry and warm,
but the bottom
is soaked and wet
and I feel the coldness
rising from below.
There’s busses coming from the front
that throws water whipping
as far as they go
and somewhere in the left lane,
there’s cars stopping for a pothole
and my motorbike catches speed
past in the right lane.
poem by Gert Strydom
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If the objects who serve us feel ecstacy, they are much more often concerned with themselves than with us, and our own enjoyment is consequently impaired. The idea of seeing another person experience the same pleasure reduces one to a kind of equality which spoils the unutterable charms that come from despotism.
quote by Marquis de Sade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the highway
I who have traded
open spaces, fields
and the azure sky
for crowded pavements
and neon lights
find my place
to meet the Lord
on the dangerous road.
I have found the sapphire sky,
the breath of wind,
the white-hot sun
on lanes packed with cars,
busses and trucks
of every shape and size.
Every thing flashes by
as my motorbike catches speed
and accelerates
and men in cars sit irritated
stuck in rows of traffic
and I bob and weave by
while life throbs everywhere
and death grasp at my heels,
l’Envoi
I feel raw power
throbbing below me
and experience the majesty
of wind, sun, sky
and the countryside
that rush by
and life is great
and in silence
I pray to the Creator
and when it rains
it humbles me
and I slow down
and am cold and wet
and know that I am
just mere man.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Summer's Wind
You are the wind on a hot summer’s day
That cools off the air
Surrounding my body
You are the wind in my hair
As I walk down the street
You are the wind
That blows through my dreams
And awakens me to feelings
Of living and smiling
You are the wind
In which my hair rises
And my breath quickens
As my smile lifts
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the sun
In which I need
To stay warm
You are the moon
In which I need
To read at night
You are the sun
In which brightens the day
To show me the way
To your arms
You are the moon
In which I need
To see the starts
To gaze under
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the wind
That cools off the air
And helps so I can smile again
You are the wind
In which I feel
Your simple touch
Which makes me yield
You are the wind
In which I stop
And feel, calm, relaxed
And realize I am alive
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
That makes me realize
Life
Might just be
Ok
poem by Scarred Unknown
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Nazi on a Motorbike
Nazi on your motorbike,
Faithful hero of the Reich,
Now that you've got nothing to do
Why not kill another Jew?
Nazi on your motorbike,
Faithful hero of the Reich,
The Aryan race is blond and true,
Their hair is fair and their eyes are blue,
You surely are the Master Race
When I look at your handsome, ruthless face,
Born to fight and born to rule,
You stupid, hated, evil fool! ! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Getaway Car
The first time I saw you you were
Chasin down
A cyclone
All alone in the field
With railyards and clovers I kept rollin on
Never thought youd wind up chasin
Me
I settle down
I wont hesitate
To hit the highway
Before you leave me to waste no
Ill settle up and Ill help you find something to drive
Before you drown yourself
Your tired of walkin
And you loathe the ground
The sideway belly touched your feet
Black moons to slowly to hold you down
With ring hand you take it out on me
Settle down
I wont hesitate to hit the highway
Before you leave me to waste
Saddle up and Ill help you find something to drive
Before you drive me insane
So get yourself a car
Drive it all alone
Get ourself a car
And ride it on the wind
Get yourself a car
And drive it all alone
Get yourself a car
And ride it on the wind yea
Yea well settle down
I wont hesitate to hit the highway
Before you leave me to waste
Settle up and Ill help you find something to drive
Before you drive me insane
Get yourself a car
And drive it all alone
Get yourself a car
And ride it on the wind
Get yourself a car
And drive it all alone
Get yourself a car
And ride it on the wind
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the square
My motorbike is at a garage for a service
and when I return from work
I cross the square
to catch a buss
in Paul Kruger street.
There are hawkers selling sweets,
fruit, newspapers
and food
and people
walking to and fro.
This afternoon he is
on holy ground
with a shouting bugle
that yells to people
not to give money
but their hearts to Jesus Christ.
I wonder what uncle Paul
would think
about the neat black preacher
who is standing right against him
and the group
that listens soberly
and see grey-blue doves
picking up crumbs of bread
and I am glad
to drive my motorbike tomorrow again.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jeans On
When I wake up in the mornin light
I pull on my jeans and I feel all right
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
Its the weekend, and I know that youre free
So pull on your jeans and come on out with me
Oh cause I need to have you near me,
I need to feel you close to me
I need to have you near me, I need to feel you close to me
You and me, well go motorbike ridin in the sun
And the wind and the rain
I got money in my pocket, I got a tiger in my tank
And Im king of the road again
Ill meet ya in the usual place
You dont need a thing except your pretty face, alright
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
Aw, here we go mama
You and me, well go motorbike ridin in the sun
And the wind and the rain
I got money in my pocket, I got a tiger in my tank
And Im king of the road again
When I wake up in the mornin light
I pull on my jeans and I feel all right
Hey I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Kind Of Love
Written by rodney crowell, will jennings, and roy orbison
Album: life is messy (rodney crowell)
Ill give you the best I can give you, baby
Thats all I can give
Well live it the best we can live it, baby
As long as we live
What kind of love never turns you down
What kind of love lifts you off the ground
Turns your life around
What kind of love makes you go out in the wind
And the driving rain
What kind of love runs through your heart with
A pleasure so close to pain
What kind of love
Only this love that I have
Ill show you the best I can show you, baby
Thats all I can show you
Ill know you the best I can know you baby
As long as I know you
What kind of love never turns away
What kind of love never makes you pay
Hears you when you pray
What kind of love makes you go out in the wind
And the driving rain
What kind of love runs through your heart with
A pleasure so close to pain
What kind of love
Only this love that I have
This love I know is all I have
This love I have is all I know
So I wont let go
What kind of love makes you go out in the wind
And the driving rain
What kind of love runs through your heart with
A pleasure so close to pain
What kind of love only this love that I have
What kind of love only this love that I have
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But it also became the experience, or was the experience, of the writers who were attracted to this kind of humor. They're all men or women who come from the same kind of experience in their own lives.
quote by Norman Lear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Expression Of Happiness
I feel like flying with the wind,
I feel like snowing all around.
I feel like seeing something new,
I feel like hearing nature's sound.
I feel like rowing the youngest boat,
I feel like roaring like the hound.
I feel like having a good night's sleep,
I feel like living in my hut.
I feel like rising ‘bove the odds,
I feel like making the sin-gate shut.
I feel like riding the success' horse,
I feel like cutting off the cut.
I feel like blowing my way out,
I feel like shutting the gates of doom.
I feel like fishing like the fish,
I feel like rooming like the room.
I feel like shining like the star.
I feel like grooming my entire groom.
If this is true then what not too? ?
If this is real, along the run.
Shall not envy with the thoughts within
My dream my rising with the sun.
poem by Osama Waqar
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