Ode To Bikers Arse Crack

Heading downstairs
The limp and the scars
Psyching self up
To tackle the cars.

Using the cane
To carry my frame
To get cut off and honked at
Now gone is the rain.

Four days it came down
Now goes it back up
Limping downstairs
Get out of my rut

Pools still on the ground
Can’t wipe smile from my face
We’re going riding
Parky, get on and brace.

Kick in the guts
Rumble, roar, growl
To think that they thought
I’d throw in the towel

Knee bending good
Titanium shin
Ankle moves well
Can’t wipe off my grin

But less than eight weeks
Since that weird twisted dance
Lock up and cross up
Am …
Bu …
Fucking …
Lance.

The here and the now
Should truly be said
Bears much more attention
Than yesterday’s bread

Away with a growl
Four cylinders roarin’
Wifey and me
Horizon-ward soaring.

Met with some mates
Bill and Lisa a cruzin’
No thought t’ward
Magnificent bruising.

One hour and two
Oh! How it was fun
Bouncing around
Up down on one’s bum.

Stop for a coffee
Straight black likes me best
As for my arse crack
It needed the rest.

It has been a while
Since back on two wheels
Appendages, crickey!
How quickly we heels.


But 3 hours later
My arse crack was sore
Knee, ankle, shin, bonza
With bum cheeks red raw.

Parky rock solid
Nary a peep
Me grinning like stupid
Downstairs … ready to weep.

Sun, it was shining
Arms red by end
And there was my coccyx
Refusing to bend

Back we did come
Up hill and down dale
Red arse crack and arms
Rest … quite pale

One hour more home
Like red devils fighting
But right now dear reader
I’m standing up writing

Now it is done,
8 weeks since the smack.
Hurt nearly as much,
As riders arse crack