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Author's Note:
This poem is dedicated to two men who taught me that the difference between quitting and victory boils down to two fresh eggs and a holy radiator

Whisk around the Dirty D
Matching horse with torque and speed

Dodging darting, drift and drafting
A motor-snake path is what I'm crafting

My rubber claws feel the need
Driven hard by earthen greed

Breaks all a glow, smell'em a smoking
Dive underneath the car that's slow-poking

The fire suit's hot, loud engines all a quiet
Only thought that remains is my high octane diet

No thinking of bosses, bills or miserable jobs
Nor kids and their whining or wife's girlfriend snobs

The only screaming I hear, strap-locked in my seat
Is controlled by MY shifter, and the tip of MY feet

Whether we're fans of Mopar, Panhead, or Chevy
We ride five hundred head horses like monsoons burst a levy

The Spirit of Speed, dearest Angel Velocity
With my helmet on I pray she blesses me

For racing blood is timeless, and always the same
Pitting hunger 'gainst demons in a life and death game

A racing soul has no limits, and we all know the need
So let's race around, your Dirty D

"All computers are garbage. They only contain answers." ~ Pablo Picasso

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The following comments are for "Compulsive Celerity"
by JLimer

Aside from typos, this was powerful. Horse powerful was not what I meant, but as a secondary pun it's nice...

Mopar rocks, m'kay, we got that out of the way...

I relate to this big time. It kicks ass. The rhythm reminds me of the song that's out by The Streets, and the way it's delivered. I don't know the name, but Chris Martin does a version too. That song isn't my cup of tea, but these words would do nicely! lol

( Posted by: GibsonGirl [Member] On: May 26, 2005 )

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