New from Sorez

This Is Now
~by Sorez The Scribe

There’s nothing like a long haul ride
To shake the cobwebs from my mind
Karma finally swayed my way
As I throttle on today
I stayed the course strong and true
Never gave up on being who
I am the Brother I’ve always been
But doubted myself when downtime hit
Suffered through the loss and pain
Nothing more to lose yet all to gain
I wear my heart upon my sleeve
My Colors proud for all to see
Yeah there’s nothing like a long haul ride
To shake the cobwebs from my mind


A New poem by D-day Dean

A Dying Soul

I’m dying, I’m dying –

My soul is slowly dying.

You sit in the garage and beckon to me

“Can you come out and play?”

“I cannot,” I say “She has other plans for me today.”

I yearn to ride, to live and be free

But today that is not to be.

I hear your friends roar by – free in the wind

That’s how we were meant to be.

I can’t explain how I feel

She just doesn’t understand.

Together forever, one with the road

Exploring our great land.

For now, I live for the time that we steal

Exploring the country roads together.

The soul of a biker should never be caged

Running wild with my machine forever.

I’m dying, I’m dying –

My soul is slowly…..

-Written by Dean “D-Day”

Visit D-Day’s blog, Musings of a Contemplative Biker

My Column about Biker Poetry

The guest column that I penned is now online at Motorcycle Goodies in the Special Interest section. Check it out. I’m pleased as punch. The same column will appear later in the month in Connecticut Cruise News newspaper. I’ll let you know. Props to fellow poet Peddlar Bridges and to MarySusan at RoadHouse Press for their help.

Riding Through The Fire

Riding Through The Fire
This poem came out of recent ride I made up to Missoula and then on to Kalispell, MT. Of course, most of this can be attributed to the imagination of the poet, but at the time there really were some fires burning in western Montana, one quite serious just north of Missoula, the “Blackcat” fire, where I rode through flames right down to the edge of MT highway 93. I rode through extremely smoky conditions on a lot of that ride and this poem came to me in bits and pieces as I rode. I finally got around to releasing it onto the page. I hope you enjoy it. Keep on Keepin’ on

Ridin’ through the fire
Ridin’ through the smoke of Hell
The forest around him burning
He keeps riding toward Kalispell

He met her in a saloon in Drummond
She lifted his soul and body higher
She was gone when he awakened
Left both his heart and the forest on fire

She told him she lived up by Kalispell
In a cabin near Flathead Lake
And although the smoke was getting bad
He new that run he had to make.

So he went ridin’ through the fire
Ridin’ through the smoke of Hell
He rode straight on through Missoula
He was headed for Kalispell

Although fires burned right beside the road
He kept that Harley’s wheels on turning
Through Arlee, Polson, then on to Big Fork
His heart-fire just kept on burning

He had to see that Montana girl again
She had taken him so much higher
Than any woman had done before
She’d really set his soul on fire

So he went ridin’ through fire
He rode through the smoke of Hell
He just crossed the Jocko River
He had to make it to Kalispell.

She heard about it the next morning
He’d run a road block, the announcer said
On a closed highway he’d lost control
In the flames they found him dead.

She wondered why he had made that run
What caused him to take that ride?
Her husband didn’t see the tear that fell
With the name of the man who had died.

He’s still ridin’ through that fire
He’s still ridin’ through the smoke of Hell
Around him all is burning
And a woman weeps in Kalispell

Copyright 2007, Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Latest from "Chopper Kate" Johnson

this idea I took from a message board for lady riders. there was a gal there who wanted to quit riding…you could tell she never wanted to , she did it for others not herself. I am sure she won’t come to such a tragic end..but then that is what poetic license is about.
He wanted her to “ride her own”
it was his persistent request.
She didn’t want to make him mad
by refusing to take the test.
A brand new, shiny v rod he bought
for her to cruise upon.
with him she rode side by side
plagued by doubts and fears,
they kept her constant company
along with frustrated tears.
She thought ” with me
there must be something wrong,
the love for the ride,
shouldn’t take so long,”
and wondered if it ever would
find it’s way inside her skin.
That kindled flame that grows to passion
warming your soul from deep within.
Sometimes she tried to tell him
that riding wasn’t meant for her,
How she felt awkward almost numb,
but he would laugh and call her
crybaby or chicken shit,
and just plain dumb
it shamed her so, she wouldn’t quit,
There came a day when her rider’s skill
was put to test on a rain slicked hill,
and as her old man knelt
dripping sorrow by her side,
He cried out,
“Oh Lord forgive me!
Why did I make her ride?”

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