Just got my bicycle serviced,
And I am nervous,
Picked it up yesterday evening,
A Demon cleaned,
With parts replaced,
Components upgraded,
… and scores to settle.
Heavy Metal,
That shines like jewelery,
Purrs like a kitten,
Grumbles like an elephant,
Rides like a dream,
Cost me like, a fair whack of my pay.
Doesn't play nice with other vehicles,
Can smell a car door opening a mile away,
Rides up gutters like they aren't there.
They don't exist!
Neither does fatigue, or dark, or up-hills,
Downhill’s exist though,
She squeals with glee whenever we see one.
She never gets tired, but makes me that way.
Demands respect, but seldom returns it.
Powered by sweat, by doesn't recognise it herself.
Laughs at the wind and she keeps taunting it at my expense,
Scolds me any time I try and slow down,
She doesn't care about her rider,
Just uses me to get herself from A to B,
I can take my hands away from the handlebars…
…and she'll just keep sailing along all the same,
But then,
Throw me a sudden shake,
To rattle me, just a little.
Sulks,
Whenever I leave her along for too long,
She’s been feeling the winter neglect,
Holding a grudge,
Demands to know why we aren't conquering the world,
…right now!
As hard as I breathe standing on the peddles,
She just keeps humming along,
Eating up all the ground I can give,
Knowing it all belongs behind her.
There's no end to her greed,
The insatiability of simple mechanics,
She runs off no battery, needs no petrol,
She has no caloric intake to exhaust,
Isn't affected by dehydration, cold, or heat.
The air,
Could become unbreathable,
Oceans could die,
All the world's oil disappear,
She wouldn't care,
No problem,
She can’t be stopped -all she needs is the ground.
She's a mean old horse,
With a vicious temperament,
stubborn and unforgiving,
I love Her!
But, don't tell her I said any of this,
…She'll hurt me.
_____________________________
My first ever poem, back with it's own score to settle. Funny enough of all the work I'm re-interfering with, this one has barely had two lines rearranged.
So a lot of blogging in recent days, and more to come, call it your program list for the 22nd. Call that a plug. Call you an idiot if you don't show. Call me Randall, some years ago never mind how long precisely finding little or no money in purse...
22-06-2009
-Peace
.
2 comments:
That was your first poem? Damn, the second time I saw you at a gig, that's how I remembered you. Still enjoy reading it now.
Ahh I like it - I anthropomorphise my bikes too. I can't help it - my bikes are a key ingredient in my best adventures, like my friends. Therefore why shouldn't I revere my bikes as I do my friends?
It's amazing how you can punish or neglect them and they'll still be able to get you there quicker.
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