Bikers

I suppose this poem might piss some people off. se la vie

Bikers

People ask “what makes a biker?”

I hear that question a lot

I'm not sure there is an exact answer

but I'm pretty sure what they're not

They're probably not those hardtail hardheads

who park their rides in front of the bar,

whose asses are parked on a barstool inside

but whose bikes never travel too far.

They're not those fat-cat wannabes,

trailers hauling their custom bikes

from rally to rally all year long

they don't know what real riding is like.

Tattoos sure don't make you a biker,

although some have tats, some do not.

Expensive black leather isn't enough

It's something that just can't be bought.

Do all biker's have to ride Harleys?

I love my Harley, but that's just not true

I've ridden with guys on all kinds of bikes

who were “bikers” through and through.

Are all one per-centers bikers?

I know that many of them ride free

But some of them are just assholes,

just another kind of wannabe.

To me real bikers are riders

out there with their wheels on the highway

putting on the miles, living in the ride,

on every back-road and byway.

Instead of hiding under the overpass,

right on through that storm they glide.

They know that trailers are made for boats,

that it doesn't have to be sunny to ride.

A biker will stop to help you out

if you're down along the way

The brand you ride doesn't matter a damn

They might need your help some day.

To me it's all about the ride,

about living out there on the highway,

about riding with a few good friends,

but you don't have to do it my way.

If you think its all about the tats,

about the chrome, the leather, the bars,

you can go ahead and live that life,

but you might as well drive a car.

You don't need a nice motorcycle

to get all rowdy and drunk,

to dress up like a pirate and

get in fight with some punk.

Me, I'll be out there on that highway,

making that Road King roll.

I bought it to ride, and I feel deep inside

I'm a biker, right down to my soul.

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Bikerwolf

Fellow poet and bro biker, Bikerwolf , has made some changes on his site, Bikerwolf's Perspectives, adding a lot of new original work. This southern boy's poetry won't be everyone's cup of tea, but some of it really rings true for me. Check out Vacation Time, Through and Through, and That Was Then. Bikerwolf has what the academics would call verisimilitude--he's the Real Deal. Check him out and tell him I sent ya.

Keep On Keepin' On

Ridin' With My Bros

Ridin’ With My Bros

I often ride out solo
and the time alone I spend out there
helps me put things in perspective,
sorta clears clear the mental air.

But there’s nothing like a fine, long ride
taken with my friends and brothers
to remind me of why I’m a Biker
why I need the support of others.

When we stop along the highway
in a friendly biker bar,
it’s good to laugh and be with friends
who accept you for what you are.

When those nasty gremlins hit your bike,
and I promise you they will,
it’s good to have a trusted friend
to help you over that hill.

When the day’s ride is over
and we all sit around the fire
you share all your tall biker tales;
and no one calls you a liar.

So I’ll take those solo rides I need
to keep my head screwed on,
but then I’ll hook up with my Bros
and just keep on keepin’ on.

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote

Trailer Queen

Trailer Queen

Am I not pretty, I’m a trailer Queen
The prettiest motorcycle you’ve ever seen
No hard riding for me, never been out in the rain
I come off the trailer, then go back on again

The R.U.B.*who owns me can’t really ride
I’m just another hobby, a point of personal pride
His friends all have Harleys, so he has one too
To dress up in black leather is a cool thing to do.

To Sturgis, Las Vegas, Daytona and all the rest
He hauls me on his trailer then does what he does best
Rides me around a little, finds a bar and goes inside
Parks his fat ass on a barstool and tells all about his ride.

I wish once he’d come out of that bar, hop on me and ride away
Head for the back-roads full of curves, and ride me hard all day
I wasn’t made to sit and shine, I was born to run
To feel asphalt fly by beneath my wheels, now wouldn’t that be fun

But that will never happen, I’m mainly meant for show
I could make his life exciting, but my R.U.B. will never know
I'm the prettiest motorcycle that you’ve ever seen
Am I not pretty, I’m a trailer Queen.

* R.U.B. = Rich Urban Biker

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

The Cowboy and The Biker

The Cowboy and the Biker

“Where ya headin’ on yer ride?”
The old cowboy asked.
And the old biker replied,
“I’m headin for Sturgis.”

He sat there smiling from his truck
While he eyeballed the bike
Then he said, “Good Luck,
On your Ride to Sturgis.”

He said, “Cowboys and Bikers are alike.
Cowboys have to go to Cheyenne
But for you on your Bike,
You have to ride to Sturgis.”

“The horse that you ride has two wheels,
And although mine has four legs
I know just how it feels
To be headin’ for Sturgis.”

With a laugh and a wave he drove away.
I climbed on my bike and fired up.
We’d both connected with a brother that day
While I was ridin’ the road to Sturgis

Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

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

The Story of Bobby and Jen

The Story of Bobby and Jen

Bobby Good had dropped out of high School
He washed dishes at The Rotisserie
He kept his eyes on that girl
With red hair all in curls,
A waitress named Jenny duPree.

Bobby rode an old chopper Harley
The only memory left him from his dad.
His dad taught him to ride,
Then committed suicide
That bike was all Bobby Good really had.

He would roar on that chop through the town
People turned and just shook their heads
"Bobby’s trouble,” They’d say
“His dad made him that way.”
He’ll end up in prison or dead."

Jen duPree didn’t care what folks thought
She loved Bobby despite what they said
She loved his leather and boots
She loved to ride on that scoot
Jen thought, maybe someday they’d wed.

One day he said “Jen we must leave,
“We’ve got to get the hell outta here.
Everyone in this town
just keeps putting us down.
They’ll never leave us alone, I fear.”

She said, “Lover I’ll go where you ride.
But we’re broke, we need money to run.”
“Jen, I’ll get us the dough
You get ready to go.”
From his pocket Bobby pulled out a gun.

Together they rode back down town.
And they held up the hardware store
Shots were fired that day.
When that bike roared away,
They left two innocents dead on the floor.

They headed south toward Old Mexico
There was hot pursuit on the road.
On a sharp mountain curve
The chopper started to swerve
Bobby Good died right there I’m told.

As the ambulance raced back into town,
Jen Dupree raised her head and cried,
“Is my brave Bobby dead?
I loved him” she said.
Then Jenny took one last breath and died.

They were young, they were beautiful, now they’re dead.
When they rode, they thought life couldn’t end.
But mourn not at their side,
Two innocent people died
That’s the real story of Bobby and Jen.

copyright 2007 Bill”uglicoyote”Davis

Uglicoyote

I'll make the first post here by posting some of my own work. Enjoy. Feel free to comment on the poems.
I love feedback on my work.

Villanelle for a Road King

We all have many reasons we love to hear that thunder roll
The old lady bitches, the boss pays less, the kids demand their say
Remember, four wheels may move the body, but two wheels move the soul

The daily grind of making a living forces all to pay its toll
Blood pressure rises, pleasures seem few; of course there are bills to pay
So we all have many reasons we love to hear the thunder roll

Release is just a ride away, and sweet sanity our goal
We swing our leg across the seat, the engine fires, we ride away
Yes, four wheels may move the body, but two wheels move the soul.

We turn to that favorite back road, the one all curves and knolls
Into the first turn, accelerate,the next curve comes fast, but we know the way
These are among the many reasons why we love it when the thunder rolls

The fresh wind washes away our pain, as down the straight we roll
The pulse of power, the sounds of the road, all cares and worries wiped away
Truly, four wheels may move the body, but two wheels move the soul.

We thunder on into the night, your cares have gone; you’ve met your goal.
Tomorrow will bring another load, more cares, concerns; another day
We all have many reasons why we love to hear that thunder roll.
We know that four wheels may move our body but two wheels will move our soul.

2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis

What the hell is a villanelle?


Leather, Chrome, and Steel

In Blackfoot, Idaho one night
He walked, lonely, out of a bar
A woman sat there on the curb
Strumming her big guitar

Is that your bike? she asked him,
I love leather, chrome and steel.”

Hop on, he said as he settled in.
I know just how you feel.

She swung that guitar across her back
And hopped onto his sled.
Where ya going? he asked as she got on board
Outta here, was all she said.

She wrapped her arms around him
They headed south to the Utah line.
He rode hard into the desert night
The big twin singing fine.

The finally pulled down off the road
He took out his old bedroll
And there beneath the desert stars
She did things that moved his soul.

The next morning when she shot him
And he lay bleeding in the sand
She looked into his fading eyes
She reached out and held his hand

I don’t like men, she told him
But I like leather, chrome and steel
My first old man was a biker
A no good, cheatin’ heel.

So I’ll take your bike, if you don’t mind.
But I’ll write for you a song.
About your love of ridin' in the wind
And all the women who done you wrong.

He closed his eyes and she rode off,
Left his body behind that hill.
She rode on south towards Mexico
I’ll bet she’s out there still

So. if some night you leave a bar
And lonely is how you feel,
Beware a woman with big guitar
Who loves leather, chrome, and steel

2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis


Hear the Thunder

As we prepared to mount our bikes,
He asked, "Tell me why you ride.
There's nothing that you few can do
For these soldiers who have died."

"You're wrong" I answered back to him,
" Yes, they all have paid the toll,
But we can help people remember
When they hear the Thunder Roll."

"These men and women served their country,
their deaths were not by choice.
They fulfilled their solemn duty
And now we are their voice."

"Some returned in shrouded coffins.
They served and gave their all.
Some went to serve in foreign lands,
And never returned at all."

"So we ride to offer honor to
All those who paid this toll.
We ride so you'll remember them,
When you hear the thunder roll."

2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis
USN 1967-1971


The Road

The road goes on forever
and the party never ends. Robert Earl Keen

Miles and miles of
Miles and miles

Big sweeping curves,
Tight hairpins and mountain switchbacks
Long straight-aways

Miles of corn, wheat, soybeans and sunflowers
Miles of pine, spruce, redwoods and cedars
Miles of prairie grass, sagebrush, mesquite

Narrow canyons open to wide vistas
Spectacular sunsets
Soft, ghostly coastal fog
Rolling into the rising sun

Idaho wind,
Nebraska heat,
Iowa rain,
Cold at 10,000 feet-- July in Wyoming's Snowy Range

Oceans, lakes,
Ponds, streams, and those rivers-
Those rivers.
Crossing the Snake, Madison, Salmon
The Platte, the Missouri
The Big Muddy

The rivers of concrete, asphalt, gravel

U.S. 101, 20, 30, 66, 26, The Lincoln Highway,
America's Roads,
State roads, County roads
Roads which appear only
On the map of the mind.
Blue Highways,
Highway blues

Riding the soul of America,
Riding my soul
Riding those miles and miles of
Miles and miles.

Bill "uglicoyote" Davis 2007


A Ride to Nirvana

I met Jesus and Mohammed
In Montana
On the Highway to the Sun

Jesus on a old panhead chopper
Mohammed astride an Ultra Glide
Both wore Diablo colors

And they shared their tequila
and smiled their bad boy smiles
Then we fired up and were off

they to Heaven in Sturgis
The Buddha astride his Road King
to Nirvanna and home

It was a hell of a ride

copyright 2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis


Three Motorcycle Haiku (Baiku?)
1.
Those good vibrations
Rolling through the Portneuf Gap
Into summer sun

2.
swinging to saddle
erases life distractions
road and man are one

3.
her hands grip my chest
orgasmic pulsings subside
power out of curve

2007 Bill "uglicoyote" Davis

Haiku are Japanese form poems that adhere to a seventeen syllable count, five in the first and third lines and seven syllables in the second. Traditional haiku usually deal with nature and the seasons. I write about bikes and riding so I call mine "Baiku". These I've done for fun. If you want to read more Motorcycle Haiku go here here.