Driving a motorcycle is like flying. All your senses are alive. When I ride through Beverly Hills in the early morning, and all the sprinklers have turned off, the scents that wash over me are just heavenly. Being House is like flying, too. You're free of the gravity of what people think.

quote by Hugh Laurie
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ramblings On A Sunday Morning

the white poodle keeps wagging
its tail
looking for my preferential attention

the motorcycles on the road
are noisy again

some children keep on tapping
their feet
imitating the dance of the
penguins

on the other hand the old woman
slowly ekes his tired feet
on the way to the church

the church bell keeps on its clanging
saying today is Sunday

i got no weekend

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Afternoon

a woman with a long black hair
sweeps the road
using a coconut broom

three children pass by
and suddenly throws a stone
to the mango tree

a motorcycle speeds its way
from the market
a dog crosses the street
the little girl runs after

we hear a screeching sound of the
brakes
and that is how the case starts

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Java's Ghost Nuclear Reactors

live on the island of Java
one of the most densely
populated places on earth
in a suburb on the edge of

Bintaro next to Tangerang
regency over 2.6 million
a few million people in
our suburbs outside Jakarta
a paradox merge mega city

seven districts Ciputat,
Ciputat Timur, Serpong,
Serpong Utara, Pamulang,
Pondok Aren, and Setu

with a total population
of 1.2 million scattered
near my home form part
of Tangerang regency just

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Church going

I hear voices singing inside
and notice big signs asking for silence
in the foyer
for when respect is lacking,

but groups of people, mainly women
stand in the entrance whispering loudly
and when I walk in

people are in their suits, best dresses
with hair done to the newest style
and almost every eye follows me

with my leather jacket, motorcycle helmet
in my hand
and formal pants as if trying to see
why I am different.

I take a backbench, just in front of the one
marked for mothers with babies

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Whenyou Are Tired And Simply Want To Be Home

as i drove the car last night
i passed by the thick crowd of people
in a big circle
the old yellow bus stopped and
some motorcycles were
blinking their lights

the ambulance finally arrived
in short seconds

two bodies of bloody unconscious
males were hauled away

blood flowed again on the floors
of the night

i did not know who they were
what they did and what they dreamed
from where they were
the women that loved them

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Motor Sounds At The Streets....

waking up from a nightmare
there was this woman in black
leaving the house
and
blown by the ill wind
towards the
rugged terrains of the
mountains

gone.

as i rub my eyes
from the dusts of sleep
i am met by the crazy sounds
of the motorcycles
down the street
at rizal avenue

this is a cruel world
so unforgiving

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jeans On

When I wake up in the mornin light
I pull on my jeans and I feel all right
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
Its the weekend, and I know that youre free
So pull on your jeans and come on out with me
Oh cause I need to have you near me,
I need to feel you close to me
I need to have you near me, I need to feel you close to me
You and me, well go motorbike ridin in the sun
And the wind and the rain
I got money in my pocket, I got a tiger in my tank
And Im king of the road again
Ill meet ya in the usual place
You dont need a thing except your pretty face, alright
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
Aw, here we go mama
You and me, well go motorbike ridin in the sun
And the wind and the rain

[...] Read more

song performed by Keith Urban
Added by Lucian Velea
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I have a friend that rides a Vespa

I have a friend that rides a Vespa
and at traffic lights
he quickly flashes past several cars.

Under the saddle of his motorbike
his gun is loaded
and on the back
there’s a notice
greeting people in Aramaic.

Just where he comes
he first unsaddles
drawing out his gun.

One day he was standing
with his weapon
in his hand

and I heard a traffic cop say
to his mate:

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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To have your own wheels

When I was a young man
I drove a blue Suzuki motorbike
and went down Marrion hill
at 180 over a speed trap
and I still remember to this day
how the speed cops cold only show signs at me
while I disappeared away from them.

Its years later and a 900 Honda
roars under me
and it’s wonderful
to feel the power of the iron horse
under me
and the sun and the wind cherishes me,
but to have my own wheels
is the best of all.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Lights in the night

The sun fades in its red glare
over the mountain top
and traffic lights, street lights
and electrical signs
get an own life
that appears
like flowers folding open to the night.

The city lies dotted out
with thousands of lights
like a big jewel,
that a master artist
unfolds against the dark night.

Cars, busses and motorbikes
draw white and red stripes
like they drive past
crossing and going straight
while the evening
is getting life.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Unfortunately in the gay community, oftentimes people that get the most attention are the most flamboyant and loud. And that's not to dismiss them, because drag queens and, you know, leather motorcycle women, they have their place in the gay community as well. But they're not - they don't define the gay community by any stretch of the imagination.

quote by Rosie O'Donnell
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Girl On A Motorbike.........

She rode a powerful
Motorbike, crossed
Two countries in europe
Inside one hour,
Parked the bike
Near a public garden,
Walked to the bench,
To be hugged
By a forty year old,
Her lover and professor,
Laid on the bench
At seven in the morning,
Made mad love with him,
Stood up, buckled her
Windcheater and rode
Away back to her college
Which she did for four years
Almost every day
Till she did her graduation.

[...] Read more

poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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Motorcycle Landscape

On a hanging garden ------
----------- [babylon seat]
------------- [baby batters]
----------------------- [weak]
---------- [hope you be great]
And the children have said their backbones
Will hurt you if you think
For there is a dolls arm
Floating in the scum
And its calling you over
While its calling you a bum
And it beckons you to frown
And it beckons you to brown
And it thinks its found a
Chance to build another real
Motorcycle landscape
The only thing that watches there
-----------[nails] are bloody red
On a -------------------------
[come to] ----------- are dead

[...] Read more

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Alzheimer’s

To where have all the words gone
and why are memories
fading away,
as if they were never
meant to be?

Calculus and math
have taken a hike
and normal speech,
is away on a motorbike
and has left for good.

Like a clown to people
around me I act,
without knowing what
they found so funny
and why they look at me
as if I am mad.

What has happened to me

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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How much I miss you

This afternoon the smell
of barbeque is in the air
and it would have been nice
to fry some chops
with you over the coals
and I really miss you.

I miss the way that you lay against me
your pet man-human name that you call me,
the being together and dreams
that I sometimes
see in your eyes.

I miss the colour
that you bring to my life,
the nonchalant way
with which you start things
and I feel like jumping
on my motorbike
to spend some time with you.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The highway man

The wind was howling
and shaking the big oak trees,
and the moon hanged like a sickle
gliding like a ship over the dark sky
and the motorbiker came riding
and the light of his motorbike cut
through the rain and kept him
locked to the stretch of road
that twisted up a hill.

He’d a round black helmet on his head,
a black leather jacket and black boots
and he rode through the weather
to where a light sparkled in the dark
and the girl of his heart was waiting.

poem by Gert Strydom
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In spite of what life brings to me

God, in spite of what life brings to me,
in spite of how much money I earn, of what work I do,
in which residential aria I live, what car I drive
and if I have to walk or drive by motorbike
on the road that I travel, it is still at Your door
that I stand each day.
In spite of the words that I do write,
how bad or great they may be,
it makes me nothing else
than the human being that gets all things from you
and still I am bounded to You
for my light in this life's darkness.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Ferry fear

Ocean of water
Running over thousand eight hundred miles
Wherever I see
Water water everywhere
Ferry service in full swing
Between Medertary and Dhubri
Of the beautiful Brahmaputra
At times frightening too
On one such trip
With more than four hundred people onboard
Workmen, women and children all among them
Some motorbikes too
Precariously placed
Dark vegetation found all over shores
Catamarans here and there
Fisherman boats hovering around
Looking for feasty fishing
When all of a sudden
Heavy cyclone
Followed by thunder and lightning

[...] Read more

poem by Vijay Sai
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From My Window To The Road Below

a brown boy
beside his pregnant mother
hand gripping

a bus stops
it is going to the mountain
loaded with
boxes and bags
and a crowd of
people

the boy sees his father
carrying
a net bag of fish

he gets away from
mother and
runs across the road
where father
is waiting

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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