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a poem by Neil Kelly
Motorcycle Art
Mechanical creatures
crawling past the lame
and the law.
Beasts, hogs, choppers are the name.
No time for crotch rockets.
Just the cruising speed of fatboys or softtails.
An undeclared war on conformity
is set at 300 cc's or more. The tears of
men seat belted in their cars and minivans
run wild like the dreams they never chased.
Thunderous muffler turned up full bore
rattles peace, vibrates one back to vitality.
Like a cannon blast it brings to life
the true definition of outlaws past.
The purr of a cat amplified enough to shatter eardrums.
The sound of a shotgun under a bridge.
All the leather and tattoos in the world will
never fill the void of helmetless flight,
fighting paved curves,
bug stained nights.
crawling past the lame
and the law.
No time for crotch rockets.
is set at 300 cc's or more. The tears of
run wild like the dreams they never chased.
rattles peace, vibrates one back to vitality.
Like a cannon blast it brings to life
the true definition of outlaws past.
The sound of a shotgun under a bridge.
never fill the void of helmetless flight,
bug stained nights.
© by Neil Kelly
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #9 ~ May 2010