A Poem

There was rain in the sky and a wind that cried
Like a unborn corpse's howl,
And the night was as dark as a witch's heart
Wrapped in a sorcerer's cowl.
From out of the east came the sound of a beast
Riding o'er the wind.
It screamed in fear and shock with fury,
And it cried like mortal sin.

It was a shriek of soul-hugged grief
Voiced in timeless dread
By spirits doomed at dark of moon
To fuel the Devil's sled.
With the essence of their burning souls
Powering his mill,
Satan rode where the black winds blow,
While the stormy Heavens filled.
Now the souls who grill in the Devil's mill
In everlasting flame
Are all the left-turn drivers
Who ever blocked a lane.
And all the outraged daddies,
And irate husbands too,
All the jocks and traffic cops,
And ladies left unscrewed.
Pompous little bureaucrats,
Hordes of courthouse clerks,
Long-nosed preachers and morals keepers,
And redneck jailers with quirks.
Everyone who's ever done
Injustice to a bro -
Sentenced to Hell with an endless yell,
And to eternal woe.
So thunder howled and a wild dog growled
And the night turned bitter cold,
For there is no warmth on the face of the earth
When the Devil's hunting souls.
And all of the souls that Satan seeks,
He will himself declare,
The best ones come from scooter bums,
And on that fact he'll swear.
For a biker's soul is strong and bold,
With a will that will not weaken.
And as Satan jammed 'cross the blackened land,
'Twas a biker he was seekin'.
'Cause he wanted to put a stroker up,
And he needed a chopper child -
One with pride enough to ride
When the night was hellish wild.
The Devil figured if he added a bro
To all those soulsabitches,
The fear and hate he'd generate
Would bore it out a jillion inches.
So he rode through the night and demons in flight
Kept watch from the rain-choked sky,
While he searched the roads in the lowlands,
And the roads on the mountains high.
He prowled the streets of cities asleep,
And he swept the countryside,
But he could not find a scooter bum,
No matter where he tried -
Until at last he reached the pass
Where Snake Mountain Road began;
Then through the swirling blackness,
The Devil spied his man.
High up on the mountainside,
Going 'round a bend,
Satan saw a tail-light flash,
And he grinned a devilish grin.
Then he gave chase and the race was on
Up the twisting turns,
While demons in flight made gleeful cries,
And souls in Hellfire burned.
Thunder rolled and crashed and roared,
And the wind did madly scream.
Rain came down like drops of lead,
And the world was an acid dream.
Trees uprooted and rockslides slid,
Oceans rose and fell,
And from every church that ever burned
Came the toll of the graveyard bell.
Halfway up Snake Mountain Road,
Boots up on the pegs,
Cutoff whippin' out behind
And leather on his legs,
Damning the pain of the icy rain,
The biker cocked an ear
And glanced across his shoulder
To see what he could hear.
He saw the light from his own tail-light,
And heard the Hellhounds bark,
And he heard the Devil coming
Up the mountain in the dark.
He saw the inky blackness
And the demons in the sky,
He heard the ghost bells tolling,
And he heard the lost souls cry.
Then the heavens split and the night was lit
By a jagged lightning bolt,
And what the biker saw next
Gave his heart a jolt.
Satan came roaring around a turn
On his screaming sled,
But instead of chrome the forks were bone,
Torn from the living dead.
His chain was made of bloody teeth,
His pipes were lengths of gut,
And the bolts that held them on
Were screwed down tight by hairy nuts.
Satan himself wore gory rags
With a skull and crossbones patch,
His earring was an asshole,
And his pinky ring a snatch.
The bro said "crap!" and geared to split,
Then the night went dark again,
And he knew he had a race to run -
One that he had to win.
So he jammed his stroker cap on tight,
With a grim look on his face,
And with steely nerves for the winding curves,
The biker set the pace.
He figured fast that it was his ass
If the Devil took the lead,
So he put his trust in Lady Luck
And rode at breakneck speed.
The road was slicker than the slit of a slut,
And twisted like a snake,
And the odds were all with Satan - But ain't that how it breaks?
The biker ran those hairpin turns
On hope and what-the-snuggle,
While the Devil kept on coming
And cursed the bikers luck.
For the rockslides didn't stop him,
And neither did falling trees,
And the driving rain didn't slow him down,
Nor did the Hellblown breeze.
So up Snake Mountain Road they raced,
Until they reached the crest,
With the biker running flat out,
And Satan second best.
They flashed across the mountain top
And down the other side,
The icy rain, it turned to sleet,
And the biker's headlight died.
The demons cheered and the Devil sneered,
Sure as Hell he's won,
But the biker did a wheel stand,
And gave his scoot the gun.
His speedo hit the redline,
And then the damn thing broke,
As he hauled ass down Snake Mountain,
Leaving Satan in his smoke.
The Devil stopped and his eyeballs popped,
Amazed as he could be,
At the wide-open run of the scooter bum,
Down a road he couldn't see,
Riding blind with the thought in mind
That he'd only get one mistake,
The biker swerved around the curves,
And never touched his brakes.
He rode by guess, by God and feel,
And he rode Snake Mountain down,
And when he reached the bottom,
He turned his sled around.
He gave a yell that challenged Hell
And raised his right arm high,
As a bolt of jagged lightning flashed
Across the roiling sky.
The biker clenched his upraised fist
And held his arm aloft,
And with his middle finger
He flipped the Devil off.
He said "Hey, Devil! On the level,
That race was pretty wild!
But you'll have to made a better run
To catch this chopper child!"
Satan shouted in reply,
"We'll run this race again,
Next time I see you on the road
When the night is black as sin,
I'll run you down and pass your ass,
And then I'll take your soul,
And I'll bake your bones for a thousand years
In my hottest-burning coal!"
The biker grinned and shook his head
At Satan's angry boast,
And wondered why sore losers
Always seem to yammer most.
But that's the way it's always been,
And how it's bound to be,
So the biker shrugged and rode away,
Jammin' loose and free.
From high up on Snake Mountain,
Satan watched him go,
While the freezing sleet quit falling
And the cold winds ceased to blow.
Then the Devil turned and lost souls burned
As he putted back to Hell,
And from far below came the last echo
Of the tolling graveyard bells.
Now the moral of this epic yarn,
And one there is indeed,
Is if you race the Devil,
You'd better have the speed.
You'd better have the courage,
And you'd better have the will,
To damn the risk and never quit,
And beat the Devil's mill.
'Cause if he gets behind you,
Riding hellbent for your ass,
You daren't let him catch you,
And you daren't let him pass,
For the rules of the run are only one -
Win it or you're through,
And if the Devil gets ahead,
Bro, that's all for you.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN