big foot oh big foot on your skinny wheels
have you turned french?
what the (rhymes with luck)?
what's the deal?
is it something big bad juancho said?
was it from getting 'served' so often?
or from falling on your head?
why oh why
have you left the woods behind?
ooh the "shoosh" of the sand
lo the smell of the pines
the guys who always 'waited miss you so much
and we all swear sasquatch baby
you almost found the touch
on the road - i suppose i should say
as kerouac opined back in the day
he spoke of space - opening and wide
he cried out for freedom
as the pavement slid by
but time has passed, sasquatch - the world's in the bin
clearly, the only space left is -
where the sidewalk ends
so prance on the blacktop till your skin fries off
play in the traffic 'til the smog makes you cough
salivate like a starving dog for the paris-roubaix
glue yourself to OLN and le tour
for july's month of sundays
for we know you'll be back big foot our old friend
because you are one of us - good god - you're like kin
we all know its just a glitch in your spiritual software
a reaction to politics - or to andrew loyd webber's remake of Hair
the lycra don't suit you, the roadie's are all dicks
you're getting sucked in and its making us sick
we won't ask you to come back - cause we still are your friends
but please tell us dear sasquatch
WHEN WILL THE BULLSHIT END?
by Scotty B.
edits by Juancho
5 comments:
Congratulations! Here's to sleepless nights, a stressed-out marriage, and more wee and doo than you can possibly imagine. It's worth every minute, don't let it pass you by.
Our little community's first birth announcement! Glad you could join us, Danny Boy. And I'm digging the current run of versifying. BRC: Bikin', Ridin' & Cryin' babies.
Inspired by his heroes Armstrong and Magnuson ("Heft on Wheels"), Sasquatch is putting the same power/lighter rider theory to the test. He must have dropped at least a baker's dozen by now. Time soon for a new moniker. A few suggestions: The Hunger Cyclist; Fast-squatch; Skunk-whippet; Half-yeti.
ODE TO THE ROAD
The track is smooth
The obstacles few
The tires are skinny
The riders, too
Holy shit congratulations! Consider the 10th Ave Borg officially notified, but expect a call from poker night. Better pre-empt if it's likely to disturb.
To Danny Boy!
Now let's get him a bike.
Now, about that ode to the swamp ape:
Disrespect from the fireball? Is he jackal or loon?
Whether fur or fine feathers, he’s still Juancho’s goon.
An ode from the master, I should be impressed;
For my preference I’m ambushed by a poetic mess.
I won’t argue or sputter, snuffle or snort.
You won’t hear me mutter cause I’ve lost my support.
And I credit the road miles for my sweet demeanor;
It’s the bumps and the bruises that before, made me meaner.
Cause the fern trail’s not fernish, and Cadillac’s crashed.
The Live Oak is seedy, singletrack for white trash.
Line track’s in the boonies, the North End’s for squares,
What fun to cruise campus and ride down some stairs!
Or better, just spend all your money on parts,
Then trash them next ride with your aerial arts.
New derailleurs and brackets, a shifter or two,
Better throw in some spokes for those rims you’ve blown through.
I’ll give you a nod when I pass as a blur.
You can call me a poodle, you can mock me with ‘sir.’
But whatever you call me you’d best understand,
That I’m happy on concrete, I’m happy on land.
You’re right, I’ll be back, and much faster than ever,
And skinny with focus, to never say never.
For cycling is bigger than small-minded rules,
Best left for the fools who would limit their tools
To this trail or that road or this way of pedaling.
Sasquatch has spoken, now stop with the meddling.
That sasquatch has spoken and he leaves not a doubt,
Both his prose and his back wheel are far from my sights!
I would expand my horizons too, if I could afford it,
But until then its shaded dirt and poison ivy, f@ck the hot pavement.
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