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| Poetry By Gary St. Pierre |
| BROTHERS IN THE WIND The road goes ever onward, though we falter at the side. In the wind I hear the voices of brothers who have died. Upon that endless highway, their journey is complete. The sound of roaring pipes still echoes through the streets. They live on in our memory, and some within our hearts. A momentary sadness when we hear a Harley start. But do not mourn them, brother, nor shed too many tears. For they are still there with you, when you're movin' through the gears. |
| "ITS ALL ABOUT ATTITUDE" On the highway I'm a rocket My wheels barely touch the ground I'll kick it into warp speed when smokie comes around White knuckles on the handlebars Eyelids flappin' in the breeze That V-twin roaring like a lion Crouched between my knees See ya later County Mounties Townies, catch me if you can I'm the master of the asphalt Rollin' on that hardtail pan! |
| NOMADS Firelight on their faces. Flames dance in their eyes. They gather 'round the campfire, to swap outrageous lies. A ring of chrome and lacquered steel throws back the fires light. In a herd of iron horses, they'll pass away the night. A tribe of modern nomads. The past come back again. A continent to roam on. No one to rein them in. They live their lives by their own rules. Their code of honor's set. Brother stands by brother. Better friends, you couldn't get! |
| BIKER HEAVEN An eternity of highway that runs through scenic views. An occasional roadhouse where the ladies welcome you. You meet only brothers on the road, no cages or cops at all. You can ride out there forever and heed the highway's call. You'll find the brothers you have lost riding wild and free. There'll be reunions everyday, the way it ought to be. With nights around a campfire or in a roadside bar. Waiting for a tired biker who's ridden fast and far. Its the reward of the righteous and it waits for you and me. When we've lait our earthly burden down. When our soul's set free |
| Rage & Fear Rage that could crack stone Fear that our leaders won't have the balls to do what's necessary Rage that could melt glass Fear that our leaders will, in the name of liberty, strip away our freedom Rage that could sunder the world Fear for our children in a world of terrorism Rage that shows me the world in a red mist Fear that my rage will get the best of me Rage that would settle for the innocent if it can't have the guilty Fear that my world will never be the same |