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I recently got an email from a reader who wanted to use "Huffy" in a school poetry slam. Unfortunately there were some inappropriate words, references and context. So this is "Huffy (Clean Version)" - made for the stage at a middle school :)
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"Huffy" - The Clean VersionI could have sworn
Down and up, That I was in Hypersonic-superspeed mode; A frantic frenzy, Charging like a bull At a red clothed matador. I pedaled with the fury of typhoons, I pedaled like the childhood monster under my bed (Scary Larry) Was in chase, Just about to nab me And take that chunk outta my leg He'd been eyeing. I was a maniacal madman with dauntless determination. Tuned out, Zoned in, Knuckled up. I scrutinized the oncoming leap of faith As its distance decreased way too quick. Bike and ramp, Were destined to cross paths in 5 seconds, I shut my eyes,squeezed, 4... 8 alert eyes Watched 2 limber legs Grinding, 1 crazy cortex Pumped Endorphins Quicker than a crowded QuikMart, 3... The ramp Was thick veneered plywood. It had the hunger of a bear, It was sloppily painted, Yellow, orange and red flames. It leaned insensibly Against a blue, Faded, Plastic milk crate. It aimed toward danger. 2... The bike was a white Huffy, Mags, Pegs, Bad brakes and scratched paint, Greased chain Pain Machine. 1... I traversed to turbulence, Friction diminished quickly, Rubber wheels went from concrete, To wood, To air. I floated. Flew. I was free. Life's nutrients filled me. Scary Larry, Was gone. The frantic frenzy was replaced With sheer excitement. Tuned in, Buckled down, Gone from section 8 to feeling great. Cheers reigned from 4 mouths, 2 tires bounced down, But 1 mistake was made... I was cocky. I turned toward those 8 alert eyes, delivered a smile. Light Went dark. In recount, The speed was that of a funeral line. My head turned too far, so my neck turned too far, So my shoulders turned too far, So my arms turned too far. My front tire, Well, it couldn't argue. The Huffy wobbled, Shook like a seizure, Tipped left, Hurled me right. Chin to pavement, Elbows hit knees as I folded like a lawn chair, Fingers to toes, All sliding, Grinding Through pulpy flesh. That smug, Sanctimonious sneer, Had bit my pompous behind. Getting up before the agony set in Just so I could kick that pain machine, Was my only retribution. But it stubbed my toe on impact. The Huffy wins again. That Huffy has chalked up More scraped knees Than kindergartners in a sandbox. And I chalked up another lesson, Unlearned. |
Other recommended poems based on this one: SHOTS! | WHEN WE DIE WE GO TO CHOCOLATE
Need help writing slam poetry? Check out some posts, blogs and articles here
Need help writing slam poetry? Check out some posts, blogs and articles here
Photo used under Creative Commons from Chris Piascik