Lee “Buddah” Haverstick

 

Lee Haverstick
Road Scribes Of America ™ Charter Guardian

 

AKA Buddah
Hello, my name is Lee (Buddah) Haverstick. I am a 52
year old father of 6 awesome young ones and adult ones.
I live in the beautiful state of Michigan with my wife Dolly.
I have been riding and writing sense Jr. High School. I ride
a 05 Harley-Davidson FatBoy 15 year anniversary edition
and a 99 Harley-Davidson Road Glide. I am the current
President of the Soul Survivors Brotherhood, Northern
Chapter. I was a cofounder, past President and Sgt at Arms
of the Road Eagles Riding Club.
I write to express my thoughts, pains, dreams, pleasures,
desires, fantasies, my personal fight, and inner strife and for
the therapeutic value it gives me. I guess in short, I write to
connect the thoughts and feelings of my soul with others. All
of my work is copyrighted and written under the Trademark
of Black Rose Poetry.

Brother? What Does That Mean to You

You call us brother, what does mean to you
Is it out of respect or do you wear the same patch we do
Just because you ride don’t make you our brother
You can learn that one way or the other
A brother is about respect, love, and attitude
A love for each other without fucking you
A brother gives more than he’ll ever take
Our brotherhood can tell when a brothers fake
It’s not what you see but what’s in your heart
That’s what sets our brotherhood apart
What we have some may never find
We’ll change your outlook and state of mind
We’ll test you to see if you have what it takes
Three months prospect and three months probate
We’ll test your dedication and attitude
To bring out the best inside of you
Some will ride you hard to test your will
And after six months a 100% yes vote is needed still
Then, if you patch in to the brotherhood
You’re expected to give more than you thought you could
But you will because we’re a family that loves each other
You’ll have earned the right to call us your brother
And now we will call you the same
We’re the Soul Survivors Brotherhood Forever without shame

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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Turf

Bikers are still killing other bikers over turf
Is that what the fuck a life is worth
There is actually room for all of us who ride
And wear the different colors we choose to fly
Colors both unify and separate
Just wearing your colors shouldn’t seal your fate
We’re not 1%ers but just as proud as you
We just want to ride with our brothers; we don’t care what you do
We respect your diamond, your colors, and how you earned them all
We always ride with respect when the four winds call
That respect is always given and we would like it returned
Because just like your colors our colors are earned
We ride with honor and loyal to the patch on ours vests
Our Brotherhood is not like all the rest
We don’t want any clubs turf or any trouble that brings
We just want to ride the wind in the patch of the sword and tribal wings
Black and gray is life for a chosen few
But brothers in other colors can be our friends too
So, when we’re chasing sunsets or a rainbows end
I hope to see your colors around the next curve and make a new friend

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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Nowhere Bound

On a two-lane blacktop nowhere bound
Low in the saddle and high on the sound
Of that deep throat rumble of my Road Glide
In need of the therapy the wind provides
Water color blue painted sky above
The colors on my back of the brotherhood I love
Worries left behind in rearview mirrors
A billboard reminds me God’s love is near
I meet other brothers with colors worn
With a handshake and hug another friendship born
A mutual respect for the patch we wear
And the miles left behind that brought us there
As the sun falls into Lake Michigan
I turn around to take the long way home again
I affirm today on this solo ride
My biker spirit will never die
As I pull into the driveway my wife is there
Ready for a midnight ride to share
© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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Hearts

My heart beats in my brothers and sisters chests
And their hearts beat in mine
Fed upon each other’s rhythm
We spit the written rhyme
When lonely roads beckon us
We answer in the wind
And when the muse is calling
We answer with the pen
The therapeutic value
Of the pen, the wind, and road
Creates solace in the heart
That only a biker poet knows
My heart beats in my brothers and sisters chests
And their hearts beat in mine
I’ll see you around the next curve
And in between the lines

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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This Thing of Ours

I want to find out what’s at the other end of a tank of gas
And take the world down a written path
Share the passion I have for the ride
Ride tank to tank and side by side
Not worry about what others say
I don’t really give a damn anyway
Like La Cosa Nostra it’s “This thing of ours” we do
Our bond is our patch, with loyalty and honor too
With love for our brothers and sisters unconditionally
In Michigan, Maryland, Florida and Tennessee
We always show respect to brothers in other colors
And expect the same from them and others
The other end of a tank of gas could be anywhere
As long as I’m with my brothers and sisters I don’t care
What others dream about we live every day
We live it the sword and tribal wings way
That’s the Soul Survivors Brotherhood way if you don’t know
Hope to see you around the next curve or down the road

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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Someday

Daddy, will you take me for a ride with you
So I can be a biker too
I see you wear your vest with pride
Can I have one with a patch that says I love to ride
Maybe one day I can get a tattoo
That says Harley-Davidson just like you
Come on daddy, I can’t be late
Don’t you know my preschool starts at eight
I feel cool when we pull up in front of everyone
Out of all the kids I’m the only biker’s son
They all think your cool and the bikes the bomb
I have so much more fun than in the car with mom
Daddy, are you going to pick me up after school
I just want to ride around with you
I promise I won’t go to sleep
So you won’t have to bungee cord me in the seat
Daddy, will you take me again tomorrow or another day
I’m going to pretend to be a biker today when I play
Pretend to ride for ice cream like I do with you
Someday like you I’ll be a real biker too

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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Guardian Angels

A guardian angel still fly’s with a broken wing
Its angelic voice trembling as it sings
Their wing broken by a brother down
Yet strong enough to lift them off of the ground
Give him the will to get back on his ride
And still fly next to him by his side
They continue to keep the demons away
So the brother can ride another day
These angels follow both you and me
Always there but never seen
They’re there to guide our way
Make each ride safe and more so on rainy days
They comfort us even with broken wings
If they fall they’re replaced again it seems
Prayers are delivered and answered on these angel wings
Ask the brother down what blessings that angel brings

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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Biker Poetry Revolves

With every line and verse their craft evolves
The spinning world of biker poetry revolves
Some of the best I’m privileged to call my friend
Taking the reader down roads and back again
Brothers bonded by the wind
And by the webs they spin with the end of their pen
They write through sweat and blood and tears
About miles left behind in rear view mirrors
Or about chasing sunsets or a rainbows end
On metric rides and Harley-Davidsons
Their lives behind bars and in between the lines
Trips to Sturgis or Daytona over time
Through rhyme and verse their stories told
About hell on earth or streets of gold
They tell of a biker’s life with pride
Of riding with brothers side by side
About all the years with their faces in the wind
Through poetry, a foundation of brotherhood begins
This is dedicated to the awesome poets I know
May you ride forever whichever way the four winds blow
May you always find a muse to pick up your pen
You touch my heart and those of many over and over again

Dedicated to Sorez, Bryant, Bridges, Hatter, Malette, Wolf,
Migneault, Sharpensteen, and Scerri and other biker poets.

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™
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Forever and a Day

Will you pick a Brother or Sister up
When they’ve fallen to their knees
Have the initiative to give more
Even before you are asked please
Can you give more to a Brother or Sister
Than what you expect from them
Your prospect and probate time is hard
You’ll prove yourself before you patch in
You’ll do this over and over
Until you’re worthy in our eyes
That’s why you earn your patch
It’s not given as a prize
So when you’re asked to do something
Just remember that in time
Someday you’ll be a patch holder
And you will have earned it like I earned mine
I earned mine through love and honor and respect
And that day that you patch in
It will be with all of those I suspect
That day may never come
If you don’t learn the sword and tribal wing ways
If you realize what’s at stake
You’ll have brothers and Sisters forever and a day

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry

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In Honor of the Names on the Wall

I was proud to be an American the other day
And proud to be a biker is all I can say
A Vet, with tears in his eyes as he shook my hand
Thanked me for escorting the moving Vietnam Wall
To Cadillac where for a week it will stand
I gave him a hug and said thank you Brother
He was a proud man who cared for all the others
He came to search for names of Brothers lost
That paid the ultimate price and their lives it cost
Our freedom paid for with blood and sacrifice
Families left to mourn and question why
I cannot imagine the hell in Vietnam
Or what was suffered in the name of freedom for our land
I simply felt proud and honored to do what I had done
But now honor the names on that wall and their loved ones
And I honor the men that returned from that hell
And say thank you to all of them as well
My brothers stand on guard of the wall this week
I’m so proud of them no words can I speak
Their way to give back and thank you again
To all the Vets of Vietnam, their family and friends
Dedicated to the names of those on the wall
And to those who returned.

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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This Is What It’s All About

Brothers in other colors want to do the same as I
That’s ride free and fly our colors with pride
Unity is what our brotherhood brings
The Soul Survivors fly the sword and tribal wings
Our colors reminds us that we live and die for Gods reward
Their black and gray with a skull head handled sword
We ride steel horses through sacred land
On back-road black-tops edged with sugar-sand
To Yuba park for a brotherhood bar-b-que
Or up Lake Michigan’s east coast to Sleeping Bear Dunes
Up to Mackinaw City through the tunnel of trees
Our asses in the saddles and faces in the breeze
This week we’ll escort the traveling Vietnam wall
Stand proud on guard to honor them all
We’re ready when the Patriot Guard riders call
Our chapter is members one and all
We ride and work to give back to local charities
Those who help our children and families
Our colors don’t mean trouble as some suspect
They stand for love, loyalty, honor, and respect
We’re the Soul Survivors Brotherhood and proud as hell
Respect always given when returned as well
We ride steel horses throughout the land
Meeting brothers and sisters of the wind and shake their hands
Someday we’ll all ride together on golden streets
You can bet there’s no finer brotherhood you’ll ever meet

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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When I’m Called Home

They ride streets of gold that never end
My fallen brothers, sisters, and friends
It’s the Promised Land, where I’ve been told
There’s life eternal for souls unsold
Imagine riding passed crystal seas
The reward from prayers on bended knees
Hell is just a sin away
The red letters guide me when I pray
It’s a simple choice the way I see
The Devil didn’t die on a cross for me
I pray the Lord always blesses the ride
And blesses my brothers at my side
I thank the Lord for angels sent
May they watch over my brothers yet to repent
Not every biker is going to Hell
Some of us have been there I’m here to tell
Your beliefs are yours and mine are mine
If our beliefs don’t see eye to eye that’s fine
Streets of gold sure do sound good to me
We can ride them together if we all believe
If not, I know I’ll never ride alone
Because I have brothers, sisters, and friends
Already there when I’m called home

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Simple Thoughts

That biker wrote that poetry?
Bikers can’t write like that.
He’s college educated too?
But he’s all tattooed and fat.
I can’t believe all the emotion
That biker poet stirs in me.
When he writes about the road and wind,
His life and memories.
I didn’t know bikers had the gift,
To write in rhyme and verse.
Or to make a story come to life
With only words.

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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A Cut Above

I often wonder what kind of man is under that biker vest
Is he loving and caring or a piece of shit at best
Dedicated enough at least to earn that patch
Is he chasing dreams with his old lady or just chasing snatch
I figure his blood runs deep for his club
Does it run as deep for his children and others loved
I wonder if he’s even a family man
Or did he leave his mind behind in Vietnam
Does he suffer from depressions tears
Or turn to the bottle or drugs to run from fears
Is he really as hard as that vest makes him look
Or does it just cover what’s inside like the cover of a book
Righteousness comes in many colors
The same as his and on many others
Actions always speak louder than words
From what I’ve seen his are clearly heard
In one way or another, his heart’s filled with love
For something or someone or for God above
And the man that’s under that biker vest
May be a cut above the rest

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Another Fuck You

Some call us biker trash because we choose to ride
Fuck you and the high-horse you daily ride
You’re stuck in your little mundane lives
In your self-righteous world with your Barbie wives
We’ve forgotten more about freedom than you’ll ever know
You pass judgment on us based on our tattoos and clothes
All I know is I surely don’t ever want to live like you
With your designer suits and alligator shoes
Or your wives Gucci and Prada shit
It all makes you no better than us, not even a little bit
But, you go ahead and judge us anyway
I’ll say fuck you again as I ride away
Maybe one day we’ll see you down the road
You’ll either be righteous or still a dick-head I suppose

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Imagine

Imagine a place where no cagers drive
The temperature a constant seventy-five
A place where it never snows or rains
No tornados, floods or hurricanes
Only motorcycles on the road and ride
No helmet laws or speed limits to abide
A place where our flag is still red, white and blue
A place where your colors are welcomed everywhere too
No wars over turf or different colors
A place where we all respect and love one another
Mass transit would be two-up and a sidecar
Only our sleds to take us near and far
Boarding ships to take us across the seven seas
To other motorcycle only countries
Then, when I woke up and opened my eyes
It was only a dream I had realized

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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A Simple Choice

I’m not a religious but spiritual man
On bended knees I fold my hands
I’m not ashamed that Jesus is Lord
On streets of glory to ride will be his reward
On streets of gold passed Heaven’s gate
With gold wings we’ll ride, but not the kind Honda makes
Eternal life bought and paid for in blood
On his cross to bare he gave his eternal love
For you and I and all who believe
From the Preacher or Sunday school teacher, to a biker like me
You can wear a suit, dress or your Sunday best
I’ll be in my leather coat, chaps and vest
The Lord don’t care what I wear today
I don’t pray only on Sunday, I pray every day
I’m not religious and on religion I will not dwell
It was a simple choice for me, Heaven or Hell

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Cap, Gown and Colors

What change will come with a Bachelors Degree?
How many instructors wrote me off just by what they seen?
An old, fat, tattooed biker in his colors every day
Most students see me and look the other way
Those who choose to get to know me understand
A Masters degree is the next achievement in the plans
I’ll never apologize for the lifestyle I choose
Don’t judge me until you’ve walked in my shoes
So, no change that you will see on the outside
Graduate school online gives me more time to ride
If you see me around campus don’t be afraid
I’ll just be studying for a better way
I may never be able to change your point of view
And in my cap, gown and colors I’ll have nothing more to prove

Lee ‘Buddah’ Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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I Am My Brothers and Sisters Keeper

I am my Brothers and Sisters keeper
Some just may not understand
When you wear the sword and tribal wings
We’re bonded now and when we reach the Promised Land
You’re our Mother Chapter founders for a reason
To ride in memory of Zach
Don’t ever think for one day
That I don’t have your back
You’ll never lay your patch down
Those who named the club in which we ride
You may wear the same patch as others
But now with a Northern Chapter rocker on your side
Some may talk shit about the patches that we wear
Our patch is worn with pride
Whether it’s worn up here or there
I am my Brothers and Sisters keeper
You can bet your ass on that
You will never lay your patch down
As long as the same patch is on my back

LLH&R Buddah, SSB Northern Chapter President

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Memorial Ride

It is in memory I ride today
For those who fought for our country and paved our way
Don’t tread on me their motto told
We ride here free and they on streets of gold
I ride with respect for those who came home
From war-torn countries present and long ago
They all served with pride, on land and sea and in the sky
All paid a price and for some it cost their lives
As I ride today I will think of and remember too
Thank you for your service, our freedom was paid for by you

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Stories, Poems, Books, and Songs

In stories, poems, books, and songs
Are the do’s and don’ts and rights and wrongs
Stories told of the road and memories
Poems written about love and broken dreams
There are so many books and anthologies
Songs written and sang about men like me
Men who live life in the saddle and face in the wind
They all tell about places we’ve seen and been
Some, like fish stories, grow over time
Poetry is therapy in verse and rhyme
Books by famous people unlike me
Songs remain the same in our memories
Stories of good-times and friends I like to tell
I do this in Poetry as well
The only books I have time to read
Are lessons taught and learned for my Bachelors degree
The songs have always been a big part of my life
A song can always mark a place in time
Whichever way your pleasure tends
Live can be relived with these my friends

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Blessings of My Life

I find blessings from my knees with folded hands
And in the miles I ride across this land
In the heart of my children when they say I love you
And in my grandbaby when he experiences something new
The caring touch of my loving wife
The club brothers and sisters I have in my life
Loved ones bonded through the pen and the wind
The gift of poetry that comes from within
My blessings received will never be lost
My God paid the price and I’ve paid the cost
I am humbled by these blessings everyday
On my knees with folded hands I pray

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Through Your Eyes

His vest is weather-beaten, battered and worn
Scattered patches are tattered and torn
His top rocker is sun-faded from all the miles
His bike still turns heads with ear to ear smiles
He wears that old black Harley-Davidson t-shirt proud
His polished chrome pipes are loud
There’s mirror finished black paint on his old girl
Her chrome sparkles like diamonds and shines like pearls
The old biker looks weather-beaten, battered and worn
From years in the saddle, he was biker born
His lifestyle and life you may not understand
What’s outside is the patch, what’s inside is the man
That old worn-down biker has earned your respect
What’s earned is returned without neglect
He’ll shake your hand and maybe add a biker hug
He’s a brother to many, but to strangers only a biker thug
If you see this worn and tattered man
Don’t be afraid, come up and shake my hand

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Bloody Flowers

A bouquet of bloody flowers dawns the vase
Comfort found from the edge of a razor blade
I feel no pain as the skin separates
Is this the end of my mistakes
Is there life after the blood
Will the funeral flowers grow in mud
Not an end but a beginning I see
Set free by the blood that seeps from me
They threw away the mold that formed my life
This is the only answer to end the strife
A permanent solution or temporarily insane
I’m cold but yet still feel no pain
The world won’t miss another life’s misfit
Now they just need to clean up the blood and shit
And remember the boy they teased to death
Fuck you world muttered with my dying breath
Suicide is painless or so they say
But they will pick-on and tease another today
Hurting others to hide their insecurities
Will eventually only make other families grieve
But to ease my mind as well
It is you bastards that are going to hell

Note: This is a writing meant for suicide awareness. Though
I have been near this place before in my life I thank God that
I did not proceed and am happier now than I have been in years.
Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. People
that hurt others because of their own insecurities need to seek
help and stop. The pain they cause others is sometimes not
reversible. Suicide is NOT THE ANSWER.

© Lee (Buddah) Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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Brothers in Other Colors

I have brothers in many different states
North and South along the way
They are brothers in other colors
Than the ones I fly today
Respect always to the colors they choose to wear
And the clubs they represent
To my brothers in other colors
Here on earth and heaven sent
You fly your colors proud
The same as I choose to do
With love, loyalty, honor, and respect
And with your brothers next to you
A notice of respect I’m coming to your town
And flying my colors with pride
My brothers in other colors
Are my brothers until we die

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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The Prospect

The future lays in the young prospects soul
If they can learn tradition and lessons from the old
Like old school ways and about respect and how that it’s earned
For a full patched brother that’s already been learned
The future lays in the prospects hands
If their man enough to meet the tough demands
They are taught to give and then give some more
Take the shit their given or find the door
Taught to put in work and put in time
The prospect may feel their life isn’t worth a dime
They work and sweat and maybe bleed
Question if brotherhood is what they want or need
From prospect to probate with a top rocker received
But still learning and earning respect and trying to achieve
Bet your last dollar before we patch you in
You’ll have proved yourself over and over again
If you’ve earned the right to wear the sword and tribal wings
You’re a brother forever and with all that brings
Which is love, loyalty, honor and respect
You’ll be a proud full patched brother then, prospect

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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The One

In a Mom and Pop greasy spoon outside of nowhere town
Covered in road dust from the many miles I’d just put down
Looking for a hot cup of coffee and a friendly smile
To forget what I’d left behind for awhile
*
She was tired of the club life and her old man’s ways
Her beauty from back in the day gave way to old, tired and worn today
Tired of paying the dues of being a patch holders wife
She wants to leave behind her life behind bars and me and start a new life
*
No longer live in the shadow of the patch
She watched me ride away and not look back
The waitress smiled and said with a wink in her eye
If you ride a Harley, I want a ride
*
I said I do, and I’ll take you when you get off tonight
She said I’m off at 10:00 if that’s alright
When I returned to pick her up that night
A large patch on her vest said ride or die
*
I ask her where she wanted to go
She said anywhere with you baby, and we hit the road
She told me that this was the life she loved
And that she lost her patch holding old man to an overdose of drugs
*
It had been a year that she’s scratched and kicked to get by
Said she had kicked her habit since her old man had died
Told me she missed the life that my old lady wanted to leave behind
And asked me back to her place to spend the night
*
Said she wanted a man she could take care of
Said a patch holder understands that kind of love
Said she understands what the patch means to me
Said she’s not property but wants to be a patch holder’s old lady
*
When we woke-up we rode away together
She’s now this patch holder’s old lady forever
What we both left behind in the rearview mirrors
Were situations that had brought on many tears
*
We just got some cool news the other day
We have a future patch holder, a baby boy on the way
So is the life I choose to share
You can meet “The One” anywhere
*
Just ride away and leave your past behind
Share together forever and find peace of mind

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™

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He Remembers

He closes his eyes and remembers the ride
And all the years with his old lady by his side
Remembers wrenching on a basket-case he had brought to life
Always carried his old trusted Bowie knife
Engineer boots to kick-start his ol’ girl
She had gold medal-flake pin stripes over Mother of Pearl
He recalls all the miles left behind in rear view mirrors
Remembering Viet Nam brothers lost still brings tears
He retired his patch do to his failing sight
It now hangs framed on his wall under a picture light
He can only ride now down memory lane
Wounds from the war has left him in chronic pain
His wife died last year he thinks from a broken heart
From watching her man’s body and life fall apart
He sits alone now in constant fear
But always remembers the ride and his biker years

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black RosePoetry™, RSOA™

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Young Boy Dreams

While growing up, a young boy of ten
Dreamed of riding a Harley-Davidson
He watched his dad wrench on an old knucklehead
I hope that will be mine one day he said

His father told him he needed to learn
The biker code and that respect is earned
He taught his son about old school styles
Of choppers and bobbers he had ridden for miles

The young boy listened and took it all in
His dad told road stories to him and his friends
Dad’s road name was Double Jack, also his drink
He had scars and tattoos with sun faded ink

Dad just bought the young boy a Shovelhead roller
The young boy said one day I’ll ride her like I stole her
The next few years he learned to ride
On old Jap bikes with his buddies by his side

The biker code had been learned from lessons had
Respect earned even if only from Dad
Some happy tears were shed along the way
Keep the rubber side down Dad would always say

That young man turned sixteen the other day
That Knucklehead and Shovelhead rode together away
That Harley-Davidson he had dreamed of for years
Was built with lessons learned, respect, and happy tears

They now sit and talk of miles they share
The garage now has an old 66 Harley Sprint in there
Dad had another boy after a little while
The young man and Dad just look at him and smile

They can’t wait to teach him the biker code
Help him wrench on that Sprint and share stories of the road
Mom loves her little Harley-Davidson family
Said, can you buy a brand new Sportster for me

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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An Old Scooter Tramp

He has tattoos that marks places in time or places he’s been
Scars that remind him of wrong, drunken choices and sin
His long, thinning hair still blows free in the wind
His long, graying beard gets tangled within
Wrinkle lines on his face and bushy brows over his eyes
Just an old scooter tramp getting by
He now rides a little slower as reflex reaction times fade
His balance iffy on any given day
He’s a ride or die type brother and righteous the same
Rides a Harley and understands why it’s more than the name
He’s old school in his beliefs and ways
You can see him in the wind on a hot summer day
He waves with respect to bikers going the other way
Just an old scooter tramp getting by
I’ve seen one in every city I’ve been while I’m on the ride
You can learn a valued lesson from an old scooter tramp one day
If you give respect, shut up and listen to what he has to say

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Heart and Soul

The soul of a motorcycle is in the rubber that meets the ground
In the rider is where the heart of the motorcycle is found
What you get out of the ride is way more than you invest in gas
Leaving behind worries and problems that are a pain in your ass
Wind therapy worth more than you could afford to pay
Time in the saddle is worth more everyday
It’s a relationship of sorts but without the rings
Just you and your motorcycle and the pleasure that brings
You wash her, rinse her, and polish her chrome
Chase sunsets, rainbows, and take the long way home
One of my motorcycles is black the other is black and gold
I put my ass on the class Harley-Davidson sold
Whatever motorcycle your pleasure tends
You’ll find its soul with your face in the wind.

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™
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Sunday Morning Ride

He left out that beautiful Sunday on a morning ride
Saw bikes parked in front of a church and decided to go inside
What he witnessed really opened his eyes
It was not your average church much to his surprise

The pulpit stood behind a 59’ Pan
And not your average choir, but a eight piece band
Playing modern worship songs for the leather clad crowd
Men, women, and children all singing loud

Some dressed in colors and others in their Sunday best
He felt right in place with his colors on his vest
The Preacher lead the sermon dressed in leather too
With long hair and two full sleeves of suntanned tattoos

His message ended when the congregation yelled amen
And then the band started to play again
The people just didn’t get up and leave
They stayed and sang and prayed and thanked God they believe

Some came over to great the man who had came that day
He said it was cool that they worshiped this way
It was not like any church he had ever been
Thanked them and said he would return again

He returned home from his Sunday morning ride
So excited that he ran inside
To tell his wife where he had been
And asked if next time she’d come along with him

It’s been ten years this Sunday they took that ride together
The congregation has grown and the preacher’s still wearing leather
Now he is the preacher in that Church of Eternity
And the President of the new Church of Eternity MC

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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My Patch

My patch has left many miles behind
Worn with honor and pride and peace of mind
My patch has many more miles ahead
‘Til they cremate me in it when I’m dead
There are many more like it that ride behind
Worn with the same honor and pride but this one’s mine
Earned with love, loyalty, honor, and respect
President of the Soul Survivors Brotherhood Northern Chapter Set
It’s a beautiful day in the Brotherhood
Patched, Prospect or Probate, it’s all good
Respect given to my patch will always be returned
If not it may be a hard lesson learned
When you see the sword and tribal wings
To me, those Brothers and Sisters mean everything

Much love to the Soul Survivors Brotherhood both near and far

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Ride or Die

On a chrome and painted steel horse I ride
Chasing what’s right from all that’s wrong inside
Therapy and freedom found amidst the wind
The road always calls me back again
A cleansing and healing seems always found
When I’m on a two lane black top nowhere bound
A ride alone in the saddle or group therapy with others
Or better yet a ride with my brothers
Today I’ll ride in the southern wind
Until the four winds blow me back home again
It’s going to be hot enough to make the Devil sigh
But it’s all good because I’m ride or die

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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True Colors

You don’t have to wear the same patch as me to be my brother
But you damn sure will need to earn my respect like all the others
Just because you ride a motorcycle is not good enough for me
It’s about your attitude, your heart, and integrity
Any brother of mine must understand
That it’s not the patch that makes you a man
The patch you fly is yours and mine is mine
But ones true colors will come out in time
How you choose to treat me is what you’ll get in return
Either good or bad will be a lesson learned
I have many acquaintances and many brothers too
In my world that all depends on you
If I call you my brother, that comes with love and pride
It comes from within not what’s on the outside.

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Hard and Jaded

Are we just chasing the money or the American dream
When did greed become as prevalent as it seems
When did hate and discontent begin to outweigh compassion 
When did love and faith go out of fashion
These questions I ponder and wonder why
It leaves me with a hard and jaded heart inside
It’s about political corruption, radical religions, and racism as I see
The corruption is what causes the greed
Radicals help fuel the hate and discontent
Racisms from oppression from the government
So what are your answers to the questions posed
I am really interested to know

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Inspiration

Riding and writing come from within my very soul
They took a broken man and made me whole
I find rhyme and verse within the wind
That’s where poetry begins
What the wind whispers to me
Is I may find inspiration in everything I see
The open road leads to an open mind
Where dreams and reality become entwined
I sort through the scattered thoughts and memories
Of what the ride provided me
Then arrange them into words to share
It’s for you I lay my soul to bare

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Me

Love me or hate me
I am who I am
I have to value your opinion
Before I give a damn
You don’t live my life
Or walk in my shoes
If you judge me by my looks
You don’t have a clue
I’ll never change who I am
What you see is what you get
And my attitude depends on you
That, you best not forget
We can be friends
Or we can just be cool
The code I live by
Is that of old school
Or we can be brothers
And ride or die together
Where I’ll have your back
And you’ll have mine forever
So love me or hate me
That’s all on you
I’ll be here living my life
The way I choose

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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My Perspective

One way I found to change my directive
Was realizing I needed to change my perspective.
Stop dwelling on the past and move ahead
Get busy living rather than just roll over dead
Set attainable goals and work hard to achieve
Quit doubting myself and start to believe
What I found along the way
I’m a better man today than yesterday
I can be kind but don’t take that as being weak
My past has shown I have a mean streak
I have learned to forgive but never forget
Those that have done me wrong may still be a piece of shit
I’ll carry on, Tally Ho, and do what’s right
And not let my perspective be affected by my sight
I hope you know me for the man I am today
I thank God for my perspective change and maybe yours one day

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Self Reflection

Let us self reflect for a bit
Do you give more than you expect to get
What is it you really want in return
Have you earned respect through lessons learned
Are you a leader that guides the way
Or follow blindly on any given day
This life we live is about integrity
Maybe it’s not as important to you as it is to me
Maybe in your reflection you will recognize
The ways others view you in their eyes
Or you can choose to just not give a shit
And what you give is exactly what you’ll get

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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A Good Brother

It’s not hard to be a good brother in a club you love
Or to others who have earned respect
What you give you get in return
That’s good karma I suspect
Always have their back
And lend a hand when there’s a need
Give support anyway you can
Because when one’s cut we all bleed
Live the code of brotherhood
Through love and loyalty
Honor and respect the old school
That came before you and me
Take pride in yourself and the life you live
Be the best man you can be
Be your brothers and sisters keeper
That’s what being a good brother is to me

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Harley Dabedsons

Can I wear your best daddy I want to be a biker too
I want to ride a Harley Dabedson just like you
I want you to shabe my head
And gibe me a cool stick on tattoo
I want to be a biker just like you
I see you smile ebery time you ride
I like to go and wabe as the other bikers pass by
I want my own best daddy with patches too
And a big colorful back patch just like you
I want to be your ride or die
I want my friends at preschool to see I ride
And want my teacher to be proud ob me
Because I wear a helmet like you for my safety
I can’t wait to grow old like you
And ride Harley Dabedson’s like we do

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Reality

My faith in the Lord comforts me
But I’m losing faith in humanity
People now get offended about every little thing
Some hate those of us who let freedom ring
Families torn apart for personal need
A fuck everyone attitude for personal greed
I just can’t wrap my head around
Why some kick others when their on the ground
There’s no compassion for sick or mentally ill
With little help for the veterans it’s their selves they kill
People have become jaded about what they feel
I wish this was fiction but it’s very real

Be a positive change today for a better world tomorrow

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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A Place Unknown

A beautiful seventy-five degrees outside
I’m bored as hell, no money, or gas to ride
Guess I’ll close my eyes and hope to dream
Of a two lane blacktop I’ve never seen.
I awaken from my midsummer afternoon nap
Realizing the ride in my dream wasn’t on a map
The ride had taken me to a place unknown
And on breezes that have never blown
Everyone I met was very kind
A calming sense and peace of mind
The road I was on was golden paved
I passed by crystal seas with gentle waves
This is certainly a place I’d never been
Riding with people I had promised to ride with again
Those who had passed on in many ways
My guardian angels some would say
I had ridden through heaven on this midsummer’s afternoon
And rode with angels that had died too soon
Yet I’m awake and alive to ride again
On heaven and earth I have now ridden the wind
Though only a visit there as I repose
Faith will bring me back there in the end I know
So until that day which I’m called home
I’ll ride the roads on the map and remember the place unknown

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Storms

Storms have been raging lately
The kinds that cause the rain
And the ones that tear apart families
And causes pain
These storms can be predicted
Almost 100% of the time
You can watch the lightning in the sky
And eyes of those who’ve lost their peace of mind
How do you handle the stormy winds
That tries to blow us away
Do you seek shelter from the damage
Or try your best to help in any way
These storms can change the lives’
Of all those in their path
Homes and hearts can be broken
By those who feel their wrath
These storms can linger or pass they will
But what’s damaged is left behind
You can pick up the broken pieces
And mend them back together another time
A true friend, brother, or sister
Will help you along the way
So when future storms arrive
They’re not as bad as the ones today

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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The Cafe

A man walks into a café looking weathered and worn
His colors so old there tattered and torn
Lines on his face reflect the miles on the road
His shoulders and saddlebags each carry a different load
One carries the memories of a young man’s dreams
And all that thirty years of what the club life brings
The other carries the necessities and a keepsake of his wife
Who years before had lost her life
He orders coffee black and wipes the road dust from his face
The coffee now replacing the road dust taste
I’ve seen you in here before the waitress said
I stop in when I visit my wife in the cemetery up ahead
I visit there too since my husband died
She winked and a tear fell from her eye
He died on his bike in a horrible storm
My wife died in child birth that morn
It was late and hours now have passed
What time is your shift over he asked
She said I’m off at midnight, why
He asked if she wanted to go for a ride
She said sure and gathered her things
She’s ready for whatever the night ride brings
She settled into his Panhead’s saddle ready to go
That night was fifteen years ago
They always stop at that café along the way
And then pay respects to their loved ones who’ve passed away

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Tomorrow

You have to make a choice between yesterday or tomorrow
Face the future or retrace the sorrow
Carpe Diem means seize the day
You can’t change the past anyway
Get busy living or get busy dying
Change will never happen without trying
Set new goals and make new friends
Let that be where your ride begins
Your life will soon be the best you know
The love will manifest and grow
What you then will have will fill your heart
A bond that will never fall apart

Dedicated to tomorrow, join me.
© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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It’s Christmas time but not all will celebrate

There’s homeless on the streets of every state
Not thinking of presents under a tree
But worried of when their next meal will be
It could be you or I in these times we live
Americans suffer while to other countries we give
I’m a biker and help when I can
To make hard times better for my fellow man
Most people pass judgment on the homeless and I
Judging our looks from only the outside
Never caring to know the good we do
Or the circumstances that made them homeless too
Maybe lost their job and family or are mentally ill
Home from the war and can’t deal with how many they killed
Can’t find the ends to make them meet
And now dinner from a garbage can on the street
Alone with nobody to love and care
They gave it all and now have no more to share
I want you to know that this biker cares
And for no other reason than to make you aware
It’s Christmas time but not all will celebrate
Please pray they pray and that it’s not to late

© Lee Buddah Haverstick,
Black Rose Poetry™, Road Scribes Of America ™

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Jaded Eyes

With jaded eyes I see the fear
In the eyes looking back at me in the mirror
The fear my life has slipped away
Those jaded eyes see old and gray
On a tear stained pillow I rest my head
Is my best behind me or still ahead
Has the dream I’m chasing faded away
Is it worth more than I can pay
I’ve lost more than I’ve ever had to give
But I’m content with the life I choose to live
The life of a biker with all that implies
Until my jaded eyes close and I die

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™,
Road Scribes Of America ™

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Change

One thing’s for certain throughout the years
The view sure does change in windows and mirrors
Long in the tooth and my mind as dark as the sky
Like when long afternoon shadows fade and die
The sun always sets on the fear
Am I afraid to die or live another year
Some pay the cost; I’ve always paid the price
Just one day without fear would be nice
Until my soul is carried away on the wind
I pray for another day to begin
With strength and courage I’ll carry on
And let the darkness fade at dawn

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Old School

You may ride because you think it’s cool
The code and respect are both old school
I suggest you learn the old school ways
They’re not found in your Credit Glide manual
on any day
They are found in experience of years on the road
It’s not just buy a motorcycle and off you go
It’s not about tattoos or long hair
And it’s damn sure not about what you wear
It’s not even about what you ride
Or who wears the same patch and rides at your side
What it is about is attitude
Love, loyalty, and honor too
Respect is learned and earned as well
And may just keep you out of hell
Don’t expect that you can just get by
Without showing respect to the old school that ride
Don’t sport your weekend warrior shit and be rude
Like you’re some bad ass with an attitude
Or an old school lesson may be what you’ll receive
An unwanted education you don’t want I believe

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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A Gift

For in the mind of an old scooter tramp is poetry
From deep within the soul it longs to be released
Flowing in rhyme or rhythm from ink and quill
The mind never resting still
Life is the prelude to the poem
Experience is the muse
For I am poetry and poetry lives and thrives in me
My heart and soul an open book to see
For it is poetry and its humbling desire
To be digested and pondered
To touch your soul with only words
My poetry is screaming but never heard
A voice within an unspoken world
A longing to be told
A gift given to me and then given away
My poetry, for you a gift today

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Fellowship

Fellowship, what does that mean to you
I can tell you what it means to me
It’s the same interest of people with a common bond
Built on love, loyalty, honor, respect, and integrity
It’s like a Brotherhood or MC but without the patch
Together in the spirit of the pen, the wind and road
Its old school brothers and sisters
Their saddled baggage carries the load
It’s a muse that has vision
And a dream that becomes reality
Where the founders, guardians, and members
Share their lives through their love of poetry
A fellowship of road scribes
Sharing memories and miles
In hopes to touch the lives of others
Through their ink and with their smiles

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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My Life (Style)

IT’S A LIFESTYLE FOR LIFE
To be a biker means more than the road
The bikes we ride or the wind that blows
It’s a lifestyle most don’t understand
Two wheels bond us like nothing else can
You stand by your Brother through good times and hell
Respect always given and returned as well
We live life everyday in leathers and vests
Love and loyalty to each other before all the rest
We know what it means to be judged by others
But only God can judge us Sisters and Brothers
Scooter trash or saddle tramps we are one in the same
We call each other this with pride
Yet called this by others with shame
This lifestyle we choose is about who we are
Love, loyalty, honor, respect and pride will get you far
You can always find a biker who lives their life in the wind
If your lucky you may get to call them Brother or friend
It’s a lifestyle like no other you could ever know
I hope we meet in the wind and I can show you so

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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The Ride And The Rhyme
 
A troubled mind needs therapy
The ride and the rhyme they comfort me
I find freedom in the formation of words
Or on a two lane blacktop full of curves
I create on paper the visions I see
The visions behind bars always inspire me
It’s not the therapy that most would know
This therapy comes from the pen and the road
Those who write can relate for sure
Those who ride know the wind is pure
The words are just feelings from within
And the road is like a long lost friend
I reach out for you with lines that rhyme
My love for the road is like the love of fine wine
Until my time here ends I will write and ride
Then I’ll write and ride when I cross over to the other side

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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An Open Book
By Lee “Buddah” Haverstick

I tell my life story through the ink of my pen
The good times and bad times and all times within
I share my broken dreams and broken hearts
New beginnings in my life and those that fell apart
Roads I’ve traveled and bridges I’ve burned
Memories I share and lessons I’ve learned
Most of all I share the thoughts and feelings inside
My love for poetry and my love for the ride
An open book one would say
Not ashamed to share my life this way
Not ashamed to cry through the pain
Writing and riding my therapy to ease the strain

 

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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Cowboys And Colors

Cowboys rode the desert sand
Today I ride two lanes across the land

Dirty outlaws chased for what they pillaged and stole
Today I chase sunsets and winds that blow

Times forgot long ago yet still the same in a way
Riding for life and living day by day

Their ride is a beautiful painted steed
My ride is painted beautiful indeed

Freedom to ride with pride within the west
Their foes in full ceremonial war head dress

My freedom to ride comes guaranteed and blessed
I ride with pride with my colors on my vest

Cowboys and colors are the spirit of the ride
With Posses and brothers side by side

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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MC 101

An MC is not for those who are fake
You should strive to give way more than you take
It’s not for weekend warriors or wannabes
It’s about love, loyalty, honor, and integrity
You should have your brothers back 24/7/365
Not when it’s convenient for you or only on a ride
You will earn respect through hard work and a good attitude
Or lose it quickly from those who choose to do
There is a big difference between being a patch holder
And just wearing a patch
Know the difference before your patch gets snatched
A simple MC education maybe what you lack
If it’s not in your heart, don’t put it on your back

© Lee Buddah Haverstick, Black Rose Poetry™, RSOA™

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