Saturday, July 28, 2007

Poem by William Karnowski

when riding a harley
you are in fact no freer
than a walking man
it just feels that it is true

there is no room
for kitchen sinks and libraries
of other peoples knowledge
and their guesses of knowledge
nor their pretenses of knowledge

one is left with motion
and wind and wandering
with no agenda for a day

there remains only friendship
flights of fancy
hedonistic joy
all in all
the physical expression of poetry

the instinctive leaning of a turn
and putting a foot down to stop
and with a dab of the toe
a flick of a wrist
to disappear into ones own sunset

William J. Karnowski
author of: Pushing the Chain, Painting the Train, Catching the Rain, Hardtails and Highways, and The Hills of Laclede.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Open Letter to Biker Poets

Greetings Brother and Sister Poets,

First let me introduce myself. I'm a teacher/biker/poet from Pocatello, Idaho. Some of you know me and have heard from me before; you may even have read some of my poetry. Others of you are hearing from me for the first time. Bear with me.

Most of you have probably heard of Elko, Nevada, a small western community located along I- 80 in northeast Nevada at the foot of the Ruby Mountains. One of Elko's claims to fame has been as the home of the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, a week-long event held each January/February. Cowboy poets and writers from all over the country converge and words and rhymes fly like bullets at the OK Corral.

Elko also holds their Annual Motorcycle Jamboree- Rumble in the Rubies each June and that event is becoming one of the best rallies in the southwest. It seemed to me natural that Elko would be a good place to locate an Annual National Bikerpoetry Gathering, to be held in conjunction with the Motorcycle Rally already in place. To make a long story short I have contacted the rally's board chair and she agrees. Evidently they have talked about this before but haven't really gotten it off the ground.. I volunteered to help (Pocatello is only about 200 miles from Elko), thus this letter.

In order to organize a National Bikerpoet Gathering, we need Bikerpoets. I'm hoping that some of you will express and interest and perhaps even make a commitment to attend such a gathering in June of 2008(June 20,21,22). This could be a great event for all of us and for the cause of Bikerpoetry in general. Let me know what you think, and of course, pass this along. Many of you are in contact with far more poets and writers than I am and I could use your help getting the word out. I appreciate your consideration and look forward to hearing from you.


Keep On Keepin' On

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Escorting the Wall

Yesterday (7/25) we brought the Viet Nam Memorial Moving Wall into town for a four day stay. The Moving Wall is a replica of the real Memorial in Washington, D.C., although smaller. All 58,195 names are there. It will remain on display through Sunday during our POW*MIA Rally and Bike Rodeo. It was while I was riding as part of the 125 bike escort to The Wall that this poem came to me.

Escorting the Wall

We escorted The Moving Wall today
Rode beside it into our town
The names all there reminding us
Of brothers and Sisters who went down

We escorted The Moving Wall today
But it isn’t with The Wall that we ride
We ride with those fifty-eight thousand,
One ninety-five brothers and sisters who died.

They went off to Viet Nam to serve
Their country and you and me
They served us well, but then they fell
Their homes never again to see

The Wall is a moving symbol
But we don’t ride with The Wall
Its all those people whose names are there
We’re riding with those who gave all.

So visit the wall and bow your heads
Remember them with pride,
Then raise them a glass and keep riding on
With the spirits of those who died.

Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Bikerpoet, Viet Nam Veteran, USN 1967-71

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Living in the Ride

Living in the Ride

Riding in the world,
I hear the meadowlark’s song
I taste the dust coming off
The wheat field harvested
As I pass by

The sound of the wind
The sound of the wheels
The rumble of the engine
With these sounds,
Every moment I ride

In the distance a thunderstorm
Watch it grow, see the lightning.
Soon to feel the sting of drops
Cooling skin too long burned
By the high plains sun.
Long days in the wind

The fresh smell of falling rain
The sweet smell of freshly cut hay
The smells of asphalt, fuel, exhaust
Mingle with the odor of yesterday’s roadkill
The living and the dead,
All with me as I ride

I pass a car
In the back a small face
nose to glass, a wave
a smile, perhaps a dream.

I’m in the moment,
Living in the ride.

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

I love Loud Pipes

I Love Loud Pipes
A love song for the Denver City Council

Window rattling, earth shaking,
Stomach churning, ear-drum-busting
Loud pipes

Alarm starting, backfiring,
Flame-throwing, head-throbbing
Loud pipes

Snorting, snarling, rip-roaring,
Feel-em in your guts, kick-em in the nuts
Loud pipes

Hear them clear across town,
What the hell was that, an Earthquake?
Loud pipes

Get off your cell, pay attention,
Roll up the window, watch out for that bike
Loud pipes

Loud pipes thundering
Through the valley
Up the hill
Down the highway
Into my soul
Singing the song I love
I love those loud pipes

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Monday, July 23, 2007

BikerPoetry Comes of Age

BikerPoetry Comes of Age
Or ... In the early days ...

by MarySusan Williams-Migneault
RoadHouse Press (

In my communications with other Bikerpoetry editors/ publishers a question has come forward more than a couple of times asking about how to reach more Bikerpoets in order to bring their work to light? This led me to remember the early days, when I first met Peddlar and Bikerpoetry was already on the move, and while there are more BikerPoets riding down History lane with us, the ride itself has not changed.

I think what helped to bring this ever growing number of Bikerpoets to our attention and off to a modest gallop around these parts is that Peddlar (AKA K.Peddlar Bridges) and a handful of other Bikerpoets have been standing at open mic poetry readings, both in community readings and Biker events as well, for quite a few years now -- as far back as the 1980s in my own recollection, but the facts might bring it back much further. Years have a way of blending into other years in my mind's-eye view and Peddlar is always correcting me, because when it comes to Bikerpoetry -- he knows the exact minute that something happened. And then Sky will have a whole other set of dates, because when it comes to Bikerpoetry -- he knows the exact minute he was there.

One date I know for sure, because I was there.. is 1987! That was the year a friend of mine invited Peddlar to my home to read poetry at my birthday party. I can remember thinking, "Geez.. he sure is scarey looking -- are you sure he writes poetry?" That was my introduction to Bikerpoetry, but Peddlar was already an Editor for a Poetry Magazine, Columnist for the Motorcyclists Post and was regularly featured at poetry readings.

By 1990 Peddlar and Colorado T. Sky had already founded the Motorcycle-Poet club, the "Highway Poets." Besides reading at poetry gigs, Peddlar brought his Bikerpoetry to the Stage to benefit the community's homeless population. Slowly but surely, with each local community event and each road trip to other poetry readings and Bikerpoet events, more and more Bikerpoets joined the Biker-Bard ride through these early years of Bikerpoetry.

Peddlar and I have bumped into Bikerpoets in all kinds of strange and sundry places, like when, several years ago (circa 1989), he brought me along to a 'civilian' academic-type community poetry workshop in Cape Cod (MA). Peddlar had run out to the car to get his camera, leaving me sitting amidst the poised and polished librarian-like citizens (who were already a bit jumpy by Peddlar's Biker presence) -when this big ol' pirate look alike, Motorcycle Poet, Colorado T. Sky stomped in!

Even I, who was traveling with a long-haired, scary-looking Motorcycle Poet called The Peddlar, was startled when Sky sat in the only other empty chair at the table - the one next to me! I laugh every time I think of it. Peddlar on one side of me, Sky angled in on the other, almost kitty-cornered to Peddlar, making up verses on the spot along with the citizen poets sitting around the table. While Peddlar remembers the seating a bit differently and he says that Sky and him eventually were in seats across from each other, what is for sure is that their Bikerpoetry shot sparks back and forth between them both and bounced across the table like lightening striking water, jolting the citizens sleepy-eyed stares to life. And there I was caught between two thunderous bolts singeing the academic cobwebs in my brain, right side, left side and then sometimes colliding dead center in the middle of years of academic sloth.

Another year, Peddlar was given a gig at the Comedy Connection's "To Catch A Rising Star" in Cambridge, MA. Peddlar not only hosted this weekly open mic venue for the poetry community, he would blast his Bikerpoetry across the audience, leaving them hooting and hollering for more. Although he was not specifically promoting Bikerpoetry, the very presence of Peddlar hosting and reading his Bikerpoetry, with Colorado T. Sky showing up on occasion, sometimes with them reading side by side with Stone Soup's Poet Master -- Jack Powers,(Cambridge, MA) put Bikerpoetry in the limelight.

One venue led to another venue. Peddlar had first met Jack Powers at a Kerouac Festival in Newburyport, MA (Circa 1987)and was invited to read on Jack's Stone Soup Stage right then and there. In a very short time, Peddlar was inviting Jack to read on his stage. And so it went and so it still goes today, only today - the number of BikerBards standing at the mic has grown, not only in New England, but across the nation and across the ocean in other countries. And Peddlar is still standing right there on the stage at the mic with them!

Peddlar's mission to bring BikerPoetry, not only to the poetry community and the academic community, but to the community at large, was given a ten-finger boost when his Poets' Cafe (Cable) TV program hit the air! After taking the local cable televison course on how to produce a Cable-TV show, he created The Poets' Cafe, which was taped and then aired on a couple of different time slots on Cable TV. He would interview the featured Poets in an informal cafe stage setting before they got up to the mic to read their work, along with one or two musicians, who were invited to play a set in between readings. Peddlar's vision and dedication brought the Poets, the Bikerpoets and the Musicians from The Poets' Cafe into the livingrooms of the cable community, but more importantly, Bikerpoetry had set its sights on another horizon ... the TV stage.

Today the printed page and the ePage is the venue that Peddlar works on most, although he still hosts open mic readings and attends them in the community and at Bikeweek events and other Biker venues as well. He also googles Bikerpoets and if he likes their work or something strikes his interest about the Bikerpoet then he emails them and tries to make a connection. A lot of these eConnections are born out of something he is presently writing or researching, like when he began researching and writing about the roots of Bikerpoetry reaching down into Cowboy Poetry, he bumped into BikerPoet Bumper Smith in cyber-land, which led to Mountain Man in Canada.

After one such afternoon surfing the web, Peddlar found Wild Bill, the Alaskan Bikerpoet, who recently sent me an email about that eConnection with Peddlar:

"..Frankly, I doubt Midnight Sun Rider would have ever left the ground had I not received that email from him. Further, I doubt I would have written any more bikerpoetry. Peddlar helped me back into the saddle."

One BikerPoet always leads to another BikerPoet somewhere!

Having a forum to bring this all together is a great way to highlight Bikerpoetry, but make no mistake about it, Bikerpoetry is being written every time a Bikerpoet mounts his steed and chases after the wind. RoadHouse Press and Peddlar's RoadPoet eMagazine strives to document Bikerpoetry history and publish the Bikerpoets we can catch up with, thereby giving Bikerpoets a place to keep their poetic ride rolling on down the road -- be it in hard copy that goes from hand to hand, cyber-space that goes from eye to eye or radio shows and compact discs that go from ear to ear.

This venture would be a lesson in futility if we were to take something of this size on all by ourselves. That is why we are forever grateful for the generosity and dedication of: hard copy publishers, Don Clady of CT Cruise News Newspaper and Leo Castell or the Motorcyclists Post and the ever growing list of ePublishers/Editors that highlight Bikerpoetry in their eZines and websites, such as Jodi Lipson of motorcyclegoodies. The list of Bikerpoets that maintain websites, eZines and newsletters in order to ePublish other bikerpoets and to showcase their own work as well are too numerous to list in this article but will be highlighted in future chapters of BikerPoetry Comes of Age 2007.

If you would like to see a sample of some of these go to,,,, where you can find some great links as well.

It is most exciting that Bikerpoetry is beginning to stand on its own in the academic community. Like the Lost Generation and the Beat Generation before us, Bikerpoetry seems to have a life of its own and a following of those who can hear the drum it beats. Bikerpoetry has its own poetic form, its own the cadence. Just as is true for the Cowboy Poets who thrive on the gallop and/or the prance of the horses hoof, riding forever out towards the horizon that calls out to them and forces their pens to the page, so it is with BikerPoets and their poetry. Bikerpoetry is the very breath of the BikerPoet.. but the rolling thunder, the chink, chink, chink of the gravel, or the lure of the steel pony is always there pushing the Bikerpoets hand to mount the page and write on down the road.

Unlike the Lost Generation and the Beats -- Bikerpoetry is not a generational phase to be drowned out in consumption or debauchery or time changing time. Although these forces have their way with many a mortal Bikerpoet, "The Ride" is the muse that will always beckon the Bikerpoet to its siren call to go on down the road and that road does not end at a stop sign, the road is the poem that beats on in the Bikerpoets blood, racing through the mind, forcing its way onto the page, swirling around in hearts of those who dare to listen.

My great fortune, as Editor, Publisher, Founder of RoadHouse Press, Inc., has been to play a small part in the coming of age of this genre by publishing or editing Bikerpoetry as it chases after the wind, from one horizon to the next.

If you would like more information about Bikerpoetry, or if you have information that you would like to share on Bikerpoetry coming of age.. drop me a line at

Before closing lets take a ride with Peddlar ...

If I Only Had A Nickel
by K. Peddlar Bridges
CT SuperSunday (R) Expo BikerPoet Laureate 2004-2007

If I had a nickel
For every little town
I ever rode through
Trying to forget,
Trying to shake the blues,
If I had a nickel
For every time I dialed the phone
And then didn't let it ring

If I only had a nickel
For every Tony's Only Pizza shop
In every back road town
Where I've sat and stirred coffee
With handle-bar tired hands
And road-wearied, sad, lonely eyes

Ya! If I only had a nickel
For every old, fat-bellied
Panting-tongued dog
I've seen run across
A dry yellow lawn
In the twilight of the afternoon
Setting sun
That reminded me of an old dog once
Back home

Ya! If I only had a nickel
For every South Main or Maple Street
Where I've sat waiting for the light
To change --
Not knowing when it did change
Was I going to hook a left or a right

Ya! - If I only had a nickel
For every lonely girl's eye I've met
As I rolled my bike up to the light
Her sitting on a porch or a step
Dreaming of somebody coming
And sweeping her up
And taking her away
As my bike idles, our eyes dance
But nobody's got the guts -- the gall
Or the gumption to make the contact
So when the light turns
Our fate rolls on

But I know there'll be
Another town
Another time
Another girl
Another light
Because if I only had a nickel
For every girl's eye, every cop's eye
Every punk's eye
Every cursing driver's eye
I've ever stared into

Ya! If I only had a nickel
For every cold mile,
Every lonely night
Spent in a damp tent
Under a rainy sky
With unwanted memories
Like fallen stars and snapping dragons
Singeing and nipping at my heart

Ya! If I only had a nickel
For every foot
Every inch
Every mile
I've spent pounding out
Trying to shake these blues

Ya! If I only had a nickel
For every stranger's face
That reminded me of some other
Stranger's face - someplace else

Ya! If I only had a nickel
For every little house
That reminded me of some other
Little house -- someplace else

Ya! If I only had a nickel
I'd have a pocketful of dimes
A fistful of dollars -- But still
No reason to stop!

(all rights reserved/K.Peddlar Bridges)


If you would like to possibly be published or featured in one of our columns, please drop a line to:
Peddlar at
or MarySusan at

If you would like to intern for RoadHouse Press, Inc. please send an email to MarySusan at Internship is a great way to begin to develop your skills as a columnist, editor or publisher, and serves the Bikerpoetry community by promoting Bikerpoets. Since, RoadHouse Press, is a strictly a volunteer press there are no monetary compensations from RoadHouse Press.

** Editors note: RoadHouse Press and Roadpoet eMagazine are not exclusive to Bikerpoetry, but are inclusive of all Road Scribes, be it motorized or not. If you love the road, the ride and are drawn to the pen and page and you would like to come along for the ride -- drop us a line, send us your work.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Sensual Bathing

Sensual Bathing

Cool spray soaks us both,
I run the sponge softly along
sensuous, graceful curves and hard,
straight, lines, water beading on
smooth skin. The droplets
burst beneath my fingers and
the white soapy suds overflow,
gently rolling to the floor
as I massage softly, first the front,
then move to the rear and down.
Later, a soft, clean towel rubs us
both dry.

I love washing my bike.

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Yo-mama-ha Rider

The Yo-mama-ha Rider

I saw him pull in where we stopped to rest,
A dude on some rice-burner ride
He had on leather chaps, a black biker vest
And tattoos all over his hide.

He wanted to ride with us today
Our road captain nodded yes
He fell in line as we pulled away
Then I saw what it said on his vest.

The back of his vest read “Big Dog Bikes”
But that wasn’t a Big Dog I saw
Big Dog may have made the ride that he likes
But he was up on an old Yamaha

That this guy was going to wear thin,
At our first stop we quickly would learn
Every time we would stop and pull in
This dude had bullshit to burn.

Of his biker exploits we heard all the tales
He was better, tougher, faster than all
His bikes were more powerful than ours without fail
I didn’t know they stacked it that tall.

No respect for other people had he
All bluster and bad attitude
No inner strengths that I could see
To many, he seemed just plain rude.

I guess he thought this made him a biker
He was caught up, playing his role
But tat’s and two wheels don’t make a biker
Just another poseur lacking the soul

At one time he might have been what he said
Before beginning to play this role
He let way too much myth go straight to his head
Now he’s just a Yo-mama-ha riding asshole

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Uglicoyote's Roadkill Red

Uglicoyote’s Roadkill Red

It was a cool September afternoon ride
when we pulled off to camp by the road
We set up our tents by the fireside
and built a blaze to ward off the cold.

I dug deep in my bag for peppers and tools.
“You know, I’m ready,” old Rocko said,
“for something hot to help us refuel.
How about a pot of your good Roadkill Red?”

So into the pot I placed onions and stuff,
Some chorizo, and Cuban black beans,
Chili powder, cilantro, cumin just enough,
Then an ingredient the boys hadn’t seen.

Scotch Bonnet peppers went into that pot
Habaneros just to give things a kick
The boys always say that they like their food hot
We’ll find out the truth with this trick.

The pot simmered a while until the flavor was full
Then I tasted and proclaimed it done
They stepped up smiled as I filled up each bowl
They sat down to eat one by one.

Rocko’s face twisted, smoke came out of his nose
Bones tried , but could not hide his pain.
Mike gasped for breath, screamed as he rose,
mouth skyward as if waiting for rain.

And me, I just sat there my bowl in my hand.
I spooned out a second helping of chili
I said, “came out a little “spicier” than I had planned,
With that idea from ole Biker Billy.”

Copyright Bill “uglicoyote” Davis 2007

If you don't know who Biker Billy is, you should.

Biker Billy Cooks With Fire

Monday, July 16, 2007

Audio of "The Need"

You can hear uglicoyote read this poem.

Gabcast! Songs of the open road #0

Sunday, July 15, 2007

We Ride These Roads

A few years ago I made a motorcycle trip during which I followed the course of the Oregon and Mormon trails for a great deal of the trip, stopping at various historical points along the way and marveling at the courage and determination attempting such a trip must have taken then. This poem has it’s origins in that road trip.

We Ride These Roads

We ride these roads
With iron horses we ride
Where oxen trod the prairie
Where wooden wagons rolled by
We ride these roads

Peering from the saddle of my bike
I imagine I see them still
From the east they came,
To a new life, better they hoped,
Than the old.
I am riding their road.

We ride their roads,
Platte river road
Past Windlass Hill
Past Ash Hollow
Past Chimney Rock
Through Mitchell Pass
Through summer heat
We ride their roads.

Ft. Laramie, Register Cliff,
Independence Rock by the fourth of July
They left their marks
They wrote their names
The wagon ruts cut in the prairie sod
Still there to mark the passing.
On their roads we ride.

The forty-niners,
The Mormons
Oregon or Bust, some said
And then they busted.
By the thousands they came
Most walked, all the way to their dream,
Snakes, weather, Indians, disease, exhaustion
Many died
Along these roads we ride.

Martin’s Cove, South Pass
Immigrant Pass, Ft. Hall
The Great Salt Lake,
Three Island crossing
Following men like Young,
Hudspeth, Bridger, Goodale
Donner, more, who led them
Along these roads we ride.

I ride these roads
And to my left, to my right
Everywhere I look, I see
Those who came before
Those who made the roads I ride
Their ghosts are with us now
We never travel alone
As we ride these roads

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote”Davis

Good News

I've just received word that my poem "The Need" will appear in the fall edition of Midnight Sun Rider, Alaska's motorcycle magazine. Yes, there are many motorcyclists in Alaska. Imagine riding Denali on your bike. The season is short in months but those summer days of mostly daylight could make for some great rides. And the unbelievable scenery. Many thanks to Wild Bill.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Ridin' the Blues

Ridin' the Blues

Blue sky above me I ride
the map's blue highways,
the blue back roads and byways

that lead me to small towns along
meandering blue rivers,
like the Mississippi which has always
been brown , not blue,

but has inspired the blues,
played a part in the blues,
the Mississippi Delta blues,
played by black men with blue guitars,
singing and playing heartfelt rhythms,

like the song of the v-twin motor
of my blue motorcycle that I ride
down the blue highways,
blue back roads and byways
beneath a blue sky.

copyright 2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis

Thursday, July 12, 2007

The Need

The Need

On curving back-roads I love riding
The freeways and interstates aren't for me
I love exploring and deciding
Where next to go and what to see

But I must confess that now and then
I feel an inner, aching need
To open up that big V-Twin
I need an occasional "fix" of speed

Once in a while I need to check my guts
And feel that adrenaline flow
To see if I've still got the nuts
To make that baby go

So I find a lonely stretch of highway
And with the throttle in my fist
I point my bike down the straight-away
And give that stick a twist.

Eighty, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-five
Love to hear that engine's roar
The century mark then one-oh- five
Will this machine do more?

Does one-oh-five fulfill my need
If I said yes, well I'd be lying
Hunter Thompson said " The thrill of speed
Overcomes the fear of dying."*

copyright 2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis

* this is a paraphrase. What Thompson actually wrote was, " Faster, faster, faster until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death."

Monday, July 9, 2007

Sexy Sally

He strolled into the bar, real casual like,
new black leathers from head to toe.
His brand new, shiny, soft-tail bike,
said more than we needed to know.

From a stool he asked "Do you have Bombay Gin?"
(Our bartenders nickname is "Beanie"
on account of the of the skull plate the doctors put in.)
From Bean this dude ordered a martini.

Well, I thought Beanie would surely blow,
but instead he just smiled and said, "Sure.
One dry martini, I'll make it just so.
Would you like that shaken or stirred."

"Shaken", he said, then winked at ole Bean,
and asked "Who's that pretty young gal?"
Beanie looked down the bar at the girl he had seen,
and said ,'Why that my friend, that's Sexy Sal.

Red hair and tight jeans of black leather,
that fit real close to her skin/
A halter top, perfect for warm weather.
but it barely reined her all in.

She smiled and winked at leather-boy
who had now slipped down by her side
He said "Howdy miss, my name is Roy.'
Would you like to go for a ride?"

Now we all were smirkin and doin a dance;
we had seen all of this before.
When Sal asked, " Would you like get in my pants?"
Roy's jaw dropped clean to the floor.

"Here's the deal boy, now please listen up.
I have my own bike parked outside.
We'll ride for an hour Roy, and if you can keep up.
That soft-tail ain't all you will ride."

Ole Beanie couldn't hold it in much more,
I thought his skull plate would explode.
As Roy and Sal walked out the door.
We went into full laughter mode.

Outside Sal jumped on her black V-Rod
Leather-Roy jumped on his new red ride
She thundered away like the wrath of God,
He dumped his new bike on its side.

When he finally got it back upright,
Sal was a good mile down the road.
Roy tried to keep her in his sight.
but he just couldn't carry that load.

Sal came back a, big smile on her face
Sat down and said, "Great ride boys.
I went down the canyon for this little race,
but what the hell happened to Roy?"

We never did see Roy there again
He never again showed his face.
He never appeared asking Beanie for gin.
I assume because of that race.

To win that race, Leather-boy had no chance
Everyone in that bar knew full well
For a boy like Roy to get into those pants,
Well, it would be a cold day in hell.

Old Roy had it coming, most people say.
He needed his male ego jarred.
Sal took it to him in her special way.
She's a rider--Sexy Sally rides hard!

copyright 2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis

My Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureate nomination letter

Re: Nomination for Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureate of the Western Frontier 2007

RoadHouse Press, Inc. ( would like to officially nominate Bill "Uglicoyote" Davis for Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureate of the Western Frontier 2007. Davis's commitment to ePublishing and supporting Bikerpoetry through his blogs and webpages is second only to his own bikerpoetry and riding history.

Bikerpoetry is coming of age! The efforts of Bikerpoets such as Peddlar, Colorado T. Sky, Wild Bill (The Alaskan Poet), Mountain Man in Canada, Gypsypashn, Bear, JoeGo, Panhead Josh and countless others to keep bikerpoetry on the forefront of history as it comes of age are commendable. Publishers such as Jodi Lipson, Don Clady, Leo Castell are but a few of the known publishers that provide the ePage or the hard copy to bikerpoets, and I am sure there are many more out there nationally or internationally that are jumping on the bikerpoetry bus to spearhead the movement. A special mention for Bill Macmillan at Worcester's Best Poetry Venue: The Java Hut, because the stage and the mic lends the lime-light to Bikerpoetry and gives us the opportunity to showcase the genre in community. But, where would it all go without the bikerpoet who pours his/her heart and soul into carving their hard-ridden spirit onto the stage, the written page or ePage so we can all witness this genre exploding?

Through such bikerpoets as ChopprKate, Tom Quinn, Ironhorse Writer, we have seen the reason that bikerpoetry has sprung from the road to the page, because they represent hundreds of brothers/sisters who ride by bringing the thunder of their words to life. Bikerpoetry is rolling down history road so fast that it's becoming hard to keep up with the names of all who join the Bikerpoetry movement for the ride through The Biker Poetry Hall of Fame. The best way to do this is hop on one of the websites that host venues for Bikerpoetry and follow our band of BikerBards around the country as they post other bikerpoets works or put on live shows and venues throughout Biker Nation and the community at large. Check out under press releases (information) and in the northeast you can find listings on supersundayonline forums,,,,,, The Motorcyclists Post, and in CT Cruise News Newspaper (Publisher, Editor Don Clady).

RoadHouse Press, Inc. apologizes if we have left anyone out of this press release for so many, many generous community venues and bikerpoets have contributed to the coming of age of Bikerpoetry in 2007, too many to list, but they are not forgotten. Without the hard work of so many the Bikerpoetry movement would be still crawling, but thanks to so many, we are off to a great run!

The Bikerpoet Laureate is a key figure in the bringing this genre to light in the literary world. Through poetry venues, websites, publishings and public relations the Bikerpoet Laureate fosters respect between the academic community, the literary community and the biker nation as this genre steps to light and takes a bow.

Two of my favorite memories in the toddler stages of Bikerpoetry, as the editor/founder of RoadHouse Press, Inc. are sitting at Charlies' Tap in Cambridge, Massachusetts when the roar of Peddlar's bikerpoetry brought the house into thunderous applause one week and then the next week walking into a poetry workshop in Cape Cod to find Colorado T.Sky. Between the two, Sky and Peddlar, sat the poetry community. It was like bringing a couple of choppers with iron clad bikers attached into a sewing circle. The electricity zapped when Peddlar tossed verses back and forth with Sky. And this was just the early days --- today this happens week to week to week.. whenever a Biker Brother or Sister brings their work to the table, stage or the Page.

Best of luck to Uglicoyote with this nomination. I am sure he will serve the poetry community with dedication if he is appointed. Take a look at his eZine and you will see why RoadHouse Press, Inc has made this nomination:

MarySusan Williams-Migneault
Founder/Editor RoadHouse Press, Inc.

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Fast Freddy

Fast Freddy's Flying Road King

He was a Harley Rider
Road King Custom, FLHRS
And when he sat astride her
Fast Freddy felt his best.

He loved her smooth clean fenders
He loved her shiny chrome
He polished and treated her tender
Garaged her when they were home.

She was born a twin-cam eighty-eight
In the year 2004
Although she never made him late
Fast Freddy wanted more

So her took her to his Harley guy,
Freddy had money to burn
He said, "Lets make this Road King fly.
Lets make these tires burn.

A few thousand dollars down road
Eighty-eight became one twenty-one
New cams, pipes, all part of the load
She was something when she was done.

But what really made Fast Freddy's day
Wasn't the sound or the shine
It was hearing his Harley guy say
She just dyno-ed at one thirty-nine

So Fast Freddy put his money down
Smoked out of the parking lot
You could hear him thunder out of town
But wait! There's one thing I forgot.

You see Freddy couldn't ride very well.
He was a lawyer, a legal eagle.
This little detail I forgot to tell.
No endorsement. Fred rode illegal.

He was coming down a six percent grade
When a deer stepped into his headlamp
At high speed a mistake was made
Fast Freddy took the runaway truck ramp.

Up the ramp that Bright Harley did go
At an unbelievable pace
Exactly how fast, nobody knows
But that Road King was launched into space.

Freddy eventually fell off of his ride
And survived, as most idiots do.
Where'd his bike go? No one can decide
If it crashed somewhere or just flew.

But special NASA instruments have found,
And I have this on an insider's say-so,
From space each day comes a strange sound,
Sounds like "potato-potato-potato."

Copyright 2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis

August is Biker Poetry Month

Roadpoet EMagazine,

Press Release ...
by Gray Hunter ...
Roadpoet Staff ...

August 2007:

Put your rubber to the road and your pen to the paper and tell the world you are a biker and a poet. This August is the third annual Bikerpoetry Month and all riders and writers are urged to take part in as many Bikerpoetry events as possible.
Yes, April is National Poetry Month, but in the Spring of 2005, the staff of RoadPoet eMagazine decided that Bikerpoets and Writers needed their own Poetry Month. Let's face it, April is cold and Bikers get their inspiration to write through their riding. Throughout the country, August is a good month for riding, so August was chosen for this honor.

So the question is, who can be part of Biker Poetry Month? Anyone who does the following:

- Publishes Biker Poetry
- Broadcasts Biker Poetry
- Gives a Biker Poetry lecture
- Hosts a Biker Poetry Workshop or a show
- How about a Bikerpoetry Month Cookout?

For more information or to add an event to the Bikerpoetry Month Events list, please contact RoadPoet eMagazine i/e at

Below is a partial list of Bikerpoetry Month events:

First Thursday, August 2nd, (Arrive: Between 6:30 - 6:45/Sign Up:
Between 6:30 - 7:00)Andy's Place, Lowell, MA Welcomes BikerPoets
to Lowell's First Poetry Open Mic and Slam.

Saturday, August 11, 2pm ... All invited ... Hopefully it's a ride!
Open Mic Village Book Store Bellows Vermont

Monday, August 13, 7pm ... Conway Library, Conway NH, A RoadHouse
Press Reading, All invited. Open Mic following feature.

Thursday, August 16, starts around 6 or 6:30pm, Gypsypashn's
Traveling Poetry Caravan Reading .. Downtown Medford and/or
3rd Annual Bikerpoetry Cookout to follow Reading at her home.

Monday, August 20, 8pm. Stone Soup Cambridge, Featuring
Colorado T. Sky and the Highway Poets

Tuesday, August 21,7:30PM at North Star Portland Maine,
Featuring J Barrett Wolf AKA Bear and the Roadpoet eMagazine
Staff and Friends

Saturday, August 25, 3rd Annual Second Hand Reeds Bookstore in
Saco Maine ... Colorado T. Sky

Sunday, August 26 Java Hut,Worcester, MA - Colorado T Sky
and the Highway Poets

Also during the month of August, several BikerPoets will be nominated as Bikerpoet Laureates. The present Bikerpoet and Motorcycle Poet Laureates are:

K. Peddlar Bridges aka The Peddlar,
Super Sunday (R) Expo, Poet Laureate.

Betsy Lister aka Gypsypashn,
Roadpoet eMagazine's, Massachusetts' Motorcycle Poet Laureate.
and Roadpoet eMagazine's New Hampshire Motorcycle poet Laureate.

Bill Rogers aka Wild Bill, The Alaskan Poet,
Roadpoet eMagazine's, Poet Laureate of the Northern Frontier.

And The Biker Poets and Writers' Association's,
National Bikerpoet Laureate, Colorado T.Sky.

Below is the criteria for 2007 Bikerpoet Laureateship:

The Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureate will display an outstanding commitment to the Motorcycling and Poetry communities, as well as a serious commitment to riding and Poetry itself. The obligations and duties of the Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureate are as follows, but are not limited to:

To be published in ink and light on a regular basis

To promote Roadpoet eMagazine and support Roadpoet eMagazine
poetry events.

To show a serious commitment to Motorcycling, Poetry and the Event
i/e the regional area the Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureate represents.

To promote Motorcycling and Poetry on a regular basis.

To attend and perform at BikerPoetry readings and Motorcycling events
as to represent The Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureateship at these events
on a regular basis.

To find a hard copy forum to represent the Motorcycle/Biker Poet
Laureateship, Motorcycling and the Motorcycle Poetry Community, always
striving to publish and promote other Biker Poets whenever possible.

If for any reason the set Motorcycle/Biker Poet Laureate can not fulfill these requirements as Motorcycle Poet Laureate by choice or circumstances, the Editor/Publisher of Roadpoet eMagazine i/e K. Peddlar Bridges will stand in place for The Motorcycle Poet Laureate for the remaining time or choose another Motorcycle Poet to do so.

The Poet Laureateship has a long standing in Literary and World History, dating from Virgil, Homer, Chaucer, through 18th century Britain, up until today, with such names as Billy Collins, Ted Kooser, and Suffolk County New York's Poet laureate, George Wallace. The mission of the Poet Laureate is to express -- The News, the Emotions, and the Excitement -- of the events for the group they represent. They are to be a collective voice, be it mirth or sorrow.

If you know someone you believe who fits this list? Please let us know.
So when the dust settles on the pavement and the parchment this September First, let's all look back on this year's Bikerpoetry Month, as a huge success!
Two notes:
First,please notice that most of the events listed take place in the East. Are there any events like it in the West?

Second. I'm pleased and proud to tell you that I am one of the Bikerpoet Laureate nominees.

Keep on keepin' on

Monday, July 2, 2007

Latest from Chopper Kate


It had been a couple of years or so
since I saw Tex last.
I nearly walked on by
when a voice from the past
spoke up and said. "Don't ya even know a brother?
Bet you thought ole Tex was dead!"

"Tex, you look damn near civilized!
I wouldn't have believed it was you
if I hadn't seen with my own eyes!"
Two feet of beard and hair past his shoulder
all were gone now, cut and shaved clean
His eyes looked distant, a little sad and older.
A genuine graybeard, seasoned and sage
now looking more like some wild bird
held captive in a cage.

"I sold the shovel, you know I gave up the life.
It all came down to change or lose everything,
my home, the kids, my wife.
A man's gotta do, what a man's gotta do..."
His voice trailed off along with his gaze.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing,
I was confounded, left in a daze.

Over the years I've seen my share of souls
convert for one reason or another,
but I never dreamed Tex would,
My partner in "crime", my old road brother!
I bit my tongue before I could say,
"Man, it wasn't that shovel that made you lose your way"

It's a choice we make, I believe.
When those "demons" seek you out,
they gamble with your soul
hold all the cards and deal the doubt .
A man has to be ready when they come to call.
It's got nothing to do with riding,
not a damn thing at all!

But, I couldn't even begin,
and as I watched his face turn to the wind,
I swear I saw as we stood there in silence.
a glimpse of my old friend and that wind washed defiance
as fleeting as the waning breeze.

"It's been great and you take care! "
I slapped his back and hugged him like a bear.
His words they turned over again and again
like some troubling song stuck in my brain.
I rode away and he climbed in his truck.
Turning to wave, I yelled back "Good luck!"
It wasn't much to offer that much is true,
when a man 's gotta do, what a man's gotta do.
copyright 2007/chopperkatejohnson