V-Twin Valentine

The history of Valentine’s Day is shrouded in misty myth and legend. Some believe an early Christian named Valentine worked to save his condemned brothers and sisters but ended up a victim himself. Love in action! – but no one knows for sure… In a more modern setting, giving Valentine’s Day cards has been going on for several hundred years.  What does all this sacrificial love and romance have to with V-Twin motorcycles? Well, maybe a box of chocolates with a fat check taped to the lid will get you a few hours to ride… just saying.

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Dreamy princess binds your time,

A Valentine bestowed sublime!

Feminine, the bottom line-

cold hard cash for cruising fine.

—–

Feather clouds above the dawn,

Fuel Injector; petrol drawn-

Hard light to power my piston’s song;

FED dollars they don’t last too long.

—–

Romance fills the miles I ride,

Love the power those dollars hide…

Amid pillows; dreams of clothes,

And as she sleeps-

I fly past pasture fencing rows.

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Infrastructure Indentured Cruise

Barron’s writer Jim Mctague on Jan 10, 2015 eloquently described the gut wrenching fervor of lawmakers to repair U. S. infrastructure. Everyone wants roads and bridges fixed- but wants the other guy to pay. It’s why we have a failing society, lazy federal bureaucrats, and $18T in short term debt. Fix those potholes for my ride!!

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Panic stricken politicians,
rust stained concrete bridge partitions.
Eighteen trillion on our card-
taxpayers must work more hard!

Black smoke proclaims the dozer’s day,
dawn illuminates the fray
steel, pipe and girders strong;
new road for rides alone and long

Sand, stone and asphalt heat,
mixed to harden, forms replete.
Patiently my V-twin waits,
Four lanes to reach horizon’s gates…

Muscled brawn strains with the beam,
Rebar placed to bridge the seam-
Painted stripes and drainage swales,
Smoothly cruise refurbished trails.
Nineteen trillion dollars- Fail!

Rolling Through Changes

The rock band REO Speedwagon once wrote a song called ‘Roll With The Changes’. The song has very important implications for today. Washington Society is pushing us to keep changing our founding fathers principles and traditions. I say they can keep the change; while I roll on through…
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Available, an upgrade now,
Leading edge; free furrowed brow.
My V-twin pounds a steady beat,
Upgrades steel, with chrome that’s neat!

Better phones with faster texts,
Brighter lights; avoiding wrecks-
EPA’s much stricter rules…
got to buy some metric tools.

ISIS wants us all to pray,
to moon god parked down Mecca way.
Yeshua is my LORD to keep-
Fuel injector program leap;
When download done – the box will beep.

Ride Free NSA

Motorcycles are becoming more electronic every year. Computer chips control fuel flow to the engine, there are electronic throttles, mileage and range is computer controlled. Each of these systems emit electronic signals that can be captured, downloaded and recorded. Sheriff departments across the nation drive around with special trunk mounted cameras that record license plate information. 1984 is here daddyo!

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Browsing steel steeds on wires fast,
Hondas, Harley’s; rides of rigor last-
Anticipate the v-twin bagger sound,
Invoice dollars, shekel, yen or pound.
– All info NSA has duly found…

Rides of chrome and brightest hue,
Processors flash numbers, engine ques.
A GPS will truly guide me home,
Swipe credit card for gas and oil to roam-
– NSA my data doth quick comb…

Park your ride; respite-, tea un-sweet;
Snap license plate, digitized quiet feat!
Tap phone of cell technology to chat-
Her love confessed to silicon disks flat.
– NSA details of data fat-

Times before the 60’s do I crave!
When wrong directly challenged by the brave-
Roads of only sunlight spectrum knew,
Rolling kisses and the wind; sky blue.
– NSA employees very few.

Bright Rider Ballad

Some riding cultures have a dark aspect. But black clothes, jackets, and other accessories make you hard to see at night; and even in the daytime. I prefer the brighter side of riding for several reasons.

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Dull helmet on a blacked out steed,

accelerating loudly,

inky jackets boast their deeds,

Pounding on, so proudly.

—–

Others cruise on bikes that gleam,

cheerful blooms within the traffic beat.

Flashing bright the sunlight beam-

Gloves of white defeat the heat.

—–

Safety is its own reward,

See and avoid is true!

Brightly gleam a cheery chord-

Reflecting prism hues.

The Light is Green

From the ‘tens upon tens’ of hits this blog receives every month – it’s easy to see that motorcycle poetry is fast becoming the poetic ‘skull candy’ of the 21st century. You guys just can’t live without it. But it’s difficult to come up with a rhyme that defines sub-urban cruising on a V-twin each week. So sometimes I lower the bar with a lyrical complaint. It’s like a ‘friend of Job’ on his motorcycle who’s here to help… What we need is more brotherly love in traffic-

Why is it that some folks stop at an intersection then mentally disengage from their surroundings? They chat on their phones or paint their lips or text their friends. Mean time, the light which only lasts fifteen seconds has been green for five. Very considerate of them for the folks behind…
So here’s to you and your A-D-D problem!

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Blustery sunshine fills spring’s noon,
Out for a drive, your sleek saloon.
Kids in back have too much fun;
Red light and stop, slow shopping run.
It just went green, her bangs undone.

Big intersection, lots of time,
Text tax idea – refund sublime!
You turn around for backseat scream-
Behind you other drivers steam
The light is green; she’s quite serene.

Hip-hop loud we all enjoy,
Pickup high your bully toy!
Diesel fumes they smell so great
Why don’t you participate?
The light is green- accelerate.

Your boyfriend quotes his love again,
Hanging-out is where he’s been;
Attention to the phone so dear,
The horns you hear are at your rear!
The light is green while trailers sneer-

Routine Riding

This is a follow up to Rides Yet Undone.

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Have you grooved your BMW past pyramids of stone?
raced the MultiStrada over catacombs of martyr’s bone?
blast your Rocket III beside the battlements of Norman lore?
parked to rest your Yamaha on Tripoli’s far and storied shore?

While idling down under have you heard the melody,
of your Fatboy’s twin cam engine as young gulls glide near the sea?
What about volcanic rock, where sulfur fouls the air?
Have you bested grand Mt. Etna on a Kawasaki dare?

Have you rolled a big twin Victory around Paris where it’s quaint,
Or ridden high, the Andies; lack of air will make you faint!
Has your V-twin growled for hours riding south towards Panama?
Smoothly glide your trusty GoldWing past big feedlots – Omaha!

If your riding is just routine; to the store and back again,
Never crossing baking deserts or the rainy plains of Spain.
Never fear, for you’re still members of a great fraternity,
Riding through the ageless breezes full of carbon you can’t see.

To Ride or Not to Ride -UNFINISHED-

This effort reminds me of the little boy coloring a picture when his mom asked him what he was doing. The little boy said he was making a picture of heaven. His mom protested and said that no one knows what heaven looks like. The little boy said that ‘they will when I’m through’.

As you will see this work is unfinished. It is not my aim to insult the great bard but to salute him. Some guy once wrote that no one really understands the great ‘TO BE OR NOT TO BE’, but as you can see I’m working on it. Updates as they are made.

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To ride or not to ride, that is the question!

Whether ’tis nobler the rain to suffer, or
The slings and arrows of raging soccer grandmothers
who both gawk and text simultaneously.
Or to roll your throttle against the tide of traffic,

And by riding stay them, for just another day.
But no, per chance to skip the ride just now,
Too cold or hot or windy, a hundred stresses more-

That flesh is heir to riding as consummation
Pray a prayer to rest from riding never;

But risk a dream; the ride of roadways clear and dry-
For in that dream of rides, what dreams may come!
Far from the shores of democrats and endless taxes.

But, when we discard this v-twin tainted flesh;
And pause at the threshold of eternity’s long ride
What weight urban congestion and frustration will remain?

That makes calamity of a ride so rude and long.
For who could bear the stop and go of surface streets,
Endure the insolence of lessor men on local roads.

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.[1]

Emergency Broadcast Cruiser

Have you ever thought about the Federal Emergency Broadcast System? I think (translate speculate) that this ‘tool’ had its origin in the cold war [ see my cold war poem ‘Rider Who Stayed Out in the Cold’ ]. Anyway, if you think about it – what is the upside of an Emergency Broadcast System? Let’s pick a candidate federal emergency… hmmmm… how about a massive U.S. earthquake. OK, now let’s list the benefits of you being interrupted by the Fed’s telling you there has been a giant earthquake. If the earthquake occurred close to your location, is it like you won’t know there was a massive earthquake? If the earthquake was far away from your location, just what does the federal government want you to do? Start your hair on fire, run out of your house or workplace and stampede to the local grocery store and empty the shelves? There are other questions about this national advisory service. Did you see or hear anything from them on 911? No— Is there something CNN, FoxNews or CNBC won’t know? If a national emergency happened in the middle of the night, your tech ‘stuff’ should be off, right? ???

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As I ride against the wind, advisories alert to know,

incoming missiles beyond apogee,

chances are they’ll make me glow.

Wheels roll through wet and dry, the feds alert is fake,

a possible event is practiced to a tee-

My triple-tree should have a greater rake!

Adding throttle for a pass, the system broadcast’s fine,

I’ll miss the news I cannot see,

Pipes loud to hear but shimmer, yes they shine.

Around the curve I press to turn, announcements very grim-

My V-twin roars a prayer to Thee;

Emergencies on highly polished chromed-out rims.

Easy Rider

The United States of America is in decline. In addition, some foreign money managers believe the U.S. will inevitably default on our sovereign debt. We have been aggressively running our social ponzi schemes and now all we have is potholes and crowded prisons. We have ignored life’s realities for the easy life now.
And you can bet your bottom dollar The New Yorker magazine will NEVER publish this…

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Highways long and wide with lights galore,
No fees are paid; but concrete flows and more-
My V-twin gently rolls by countryside adorned in gold,
Big barns enclose machines of cost untold.

Coastal sand is cleaned by hand and weighed,
For leisure parents lay while children waves convey-
My V-twin smoothly rolls by suburbs fed with stamps,
Clinics full; insured by winks of grimy, liberal camps.

Cities of rust diminish hearts of hope; yet young-
Grey skies of shadows deep crush songs unsung
My V-twin glides by lightless streets and empty lots
Abandoned swings hang lifeless, honest citizenship rots.

America proud standing, upholding fake degrees;
Disdaining God for apples full of progressive honeybees.
My V-twin powers past empty pews with pulpits dry,
Of sermons lost on greedy ears and ever needing eyes.