edited: Saturday, November 02, 2002
By Frank Mort Jr.
Posted: Saturday, November 02, 2002
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A neighborhood in any huge city
"Zen Harley" Copyright2002.FrankMortJR.
To say nightfall has broken in my neighborhood is definitely an understatement.
My block is layered with broken beer, wine, & whiskey bottles.
Broken hypodermics discarded all over the side walk, from the gutter to the doorstep, have joined in. Twenty-fours a day and seven days a week screams have broken whatever silence there was at night.
Break – ups of marriages, breakouts from prisons.
Diseases breaking out all over the world geographically.
Pollution breaking out everywhere environmentally.
During puberty your face breaks out, damn soon after you are born…your ass breaks out from diaper rash. Enough breaking out and breaking out.
We need to piece things together. We must do this all together, piece by piece. Each and everyone of us. Starting with ourselves.
That way is meditation. The way I begin my meditation is by driving my mean Harley machine. It places me right in the moment, not in the past nor in the future. To be one with her vibrations. Feeling her between my legs.
She responds to my every move with her moves. Unless you have ridden a Harley in the open wind & wearing leathers with the Sun shining on you…it is awesome! I am one with her, the open road and everywhere. Everything is interdependent on each other, intertwined in someway. Photography, painting, poetry, music, nature, making love & motorcycle mechanics. All are artistic, creative & important to live an abundant life.
Here is a poem/song I have written about Zen Harley;
Wayward Man copyright2002.Mort,Frank Jr.
Wayward man, rifling down life’s highway.
To nowhere on my mean Harley machine.
Picking mushrooms for a living or maybe dying.
If you really know what I’m saying.
I’ve paid life’s dues with penalties & interest.
To find out that there is no winning ticket
at the end of any rainbow.
Seems to be more downs than ups.
The only good times are being with a loving woman.
Drinking Jack Daniels from paper cups.
With her arms around me, I get a warm feeling on the
inside…along with sipping Mr. Daniels….the numbness
stays away, for at least awhile…until 4 am.
Then between nightmares & knowing nothing good lasts
forever I awake in a cold sweat…to find myself alone again.
Rifling down life’s highway on my mean Harley machine.
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