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THE DRAGS

D'you remember? d'you remember the drags?
It was great d'you remember E.J. Potter?
The Michigan Madman that bike oh man that bike
you think yours is big ha!
That bike, that bike had a 312 cubic inch
fuel injected v8 corvette donk ha!
When That mother did the quarter
oh man did he do the quarter!
That wheel never stopped spinning,
man they had to hold up the races for ten minutes
for the fuckin smoke to clear,
wow, not the fastest mind
no not the quickest
but the biggest
and the meanest
man oh you should have seen this guy EJ Potter
he looked like a fuckin librarian man
fair dinkum pale and scrawny and wire rimmed
specs this little weed wrestling
half a ton of twisting snorting monster
down the strip it was something to see yeah

and the jet car wow oh yeah the jet car
like the guy said before the run
that this was like one reaally slick machine
that it was so quiet if you shut your eyes
or even blinked you'ld miss the run
and there it was this biro with wheels
sitting there turning over
you could tell by the smoke
just so quiet you couldn't hear nothing
and there's the christmas tree down go the lights
and on the go oh man this shriek went out
it just cut ya in half at the fuckin guts
oh man they were just falling back from the fence
I mean ya heard it in ya guts not ya ears
and then the time came down
and that thing had done the first quarter mile
under six seconds in Australian history
5.97 seconds man
276 miles an hour through the traps
but that baby flew!
whhoooo

dya ever see the standers
man these guys would like you know
chuck a wheely like the front wheels just lifted off
and stayed up like all the way through the traps

oh nooo but the fuellers ooh the fuellers
AA fuel dragsters they were the kings
they were the gods
oh baby those long thin monsters
running 98 per cent nitro
through 450 cubic inch bored out
supercharged v-8s to 8 straight through pipes ooh
but that howl that brat it grabbed ya
like music never will
it picked ya up at the entrails
and shook ya round like a rag doll
it rattled ya bones like a bikers mole

and the burn out dya ever see a burn out?
like they'ld put this shit on the strip man and spin the wheels in it and it'd light up
and flames all about and the flames from the pipes
they flew on wings man
fiery wings like burning burning it melted the tyres
see for better traction?
you know those fuckers thundered man
it was Thors revenge
it was Supermen farting,
it was a fuckin gas!

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

The vernacular of drag/bike racing is so alien to me as to be from another world, yet I got the gist of the narrative (I think) and the strong machismo tone very clearly. I got engaged in the read in spite of my ignorance -- the sign of good poetry, I'd say.

Since I'm still learning about freeform, I have no idea what you did structurally. You seem to write intuitively. I just know it works. Enjoyed it very much.

Cheers ... Mike

" I got engaged in the read in spite of my ignorance" is all I attempted here.
I wrote this after sprouting it aloud whilst on amphetamines and alcohol, virtually un-edited.
Mate, all I can teach you about freeform is to rigorously learn classic forms. Yes, that's right, then when you have a mad speed moment, or some sort of poetic epiphany, the words just come out. I can't say better than that. There is classic form here, if you look.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet is a workshop. Poets take the time to read and think about your work and offer suggestions.
There is no obligation to make any changes however please acknowledge critique and comments.

author comment

Please spare me the "if you look." I get lost very easily. In a nutshell, what classic form are you referring to? I bought "The Ode Less Traveled," as you suggested. Would it be in there somewhere in the 352 pages? Amphetamines and alcohol would just fuck me up. Thanks, Jess.

Mike

I like this poem of mine a lot.
All I can truthfully say is it came out good because I had a solid foundation of poetry by learning and reading.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet is a workshop. Poets take the time to read and think about your work and offer suggestions.
There is no obligation to make any changes however please acknowledge critique and comments.

author comment

that I am not a very good poet.
I only excel in helping others.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet is a workshop. Poets take the time to read and think about your work and offer suggestions.
There is no obligation to make any changes however please acknowledge critique and comments.

author comment

falling over cat..dog...pile of dirty laundry and not falling
that slow motion dance...stumble..and recovery without
spilling much is intuition...
kind of like lying on the spot too
story telling....well it is poetry

This is my fave poem of Elf's
a five star...
that and Bunger Gun
amongst all the other ones
I love the narrative voice
feel in this one
u can feel the excitement
an authentic experience
Thanks Mate!

mate

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet is a workshop. Poets take the time to read and think about your work and offer suggestions.
There is no obligation to make any changes however please acknowledge critique and comments.

author comment

.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet is a workshop. Poets take the time to read and think about your work and offer suggestions.
There is no obligation to make any changes however please acknowledge critique and comments.

author comment

Wonder of all you've broken a few records here, free verse, I bet the horse whisperer is cringing in his paddock.
It didn't jell with me either but liked the story then some Aussie took a load of words and blatted them out at breakneck speed, welcome to the realms of speed madness, must be something in that burning rubber smell.
I hope you can edit this a bit to scorch its way into our poets. Good luck with that,
Take care,
Yours Sparrow

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

but never done that! I used to go with my now departed brother-in-law, to the drags at Conn. New England Dragway. I watched him as he did his first ever 140mph. pass on his 650 Kawasaki. I watched the "Boss Hog" burn all the way to the end of the quarter and saw a couple of horrific crashes. The smell and the roar of the jet-car and the pall of smoke that clung to you all the way home was like nothing you'll ever hear or see anywhere else but the drags! Thanks man, for bringing that all back to me as I sit here in my room, reading your work. ~ Gee

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Critique or comment today!

The Michigan Madman.

Who but the Madman would put a corvette engine in a hog?

If I didn't know better, I'd say you were from Motor City.

Most excellent poem. You captured what it is to be a dragster fan, no doubt. I read this, I feel the roar in my bones again.

And it's a good eulogy for Mr. Potter too, whether or not you meant it to be.

But...if I see you post that you aren't a good poet one more time, we gonna have words! (heehee)

No criticism, just appreciation.

Respectfully, Jim

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Race_9togo

When I was sixteen I wanted to learn how to ride a motorbike. My mother stopped me. I had only one ride in my lifetime. But, now, I do not fancy it anymore. It is a kind of crazy thing to do. Your poem is pretty good in depicting that craziness. Congratulations.

On the internet, I did find out who E.J. Potter is. I gained a new knowledge. Thank you.

xxxxx

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