點:
CONSTRUCTIVE
CRITICISM
Whenever I get together with a group
of skaters, the conversation invariably
turns towards the magazine, focusing
on their likes, dislikes, suggestions, and
so on. And while I always enjoy the
feedback I receive pertaining to
Thrasher's different departments
(Somethin' Else, Five Greats, etc.), the
boys from Ohio just couldn't stop talking
about how much they like Poet's Corner
The conversation got so lively that
some of us decided to carpe diem and
write our own skate poems. I think
we're quite gifted. Expect a spoker
word tour later this fall.
I'm sorry, Chad,
Dinobaby.
Don't drink and rhyme.
hath
I had no choice.
UNTITLED
SKATEBOARD HIGH
The wheels turn slowly under my feet
Speed increases with the slope of the street
The wind blows faster through my mullet
My gap approaches; can I pull it?
With determination filling my eyes
I bend at the knees and begin to rise
At full extent I crack my tail
Will I land or will I bail?
Any second I will hit the 'crete
With my board secure beneath my feet
BOOM fierce pressure when I land
Like a semi on the freeway
Slamming into a man
But unlike that unlucky man I don't die
Down the street I continue to fly
This is the life, the skateboard high!
I try to stop
But the wheels keep turning
The mind goes
Koo Koo
-Dave Coyne
THE ONLY BIRD I KNOW
Let me begin by saying
That bitches is what I be laying
The X-Games suck
My shirt I will untuck
To prove what I think of authority
-Chad Knight
-Chad Knigh
THE SMELL OF BACON
Aloft I fly t'wards virgin bench
Switch crooks in mind, success a cinch
Tap my tail, aim my truck
But something blocks me
What the fuck?
As I look up all bruised and battered
Chad's
ponies.
I see a donut, chocolate slathered
Tween pudgy fingers, or rather hoof
Athlete and
coach.
Waiting to exhale
ce Scotty P raises the roof with
Middletown, Ohio's own version of the legendary
Lockwood school bump. Backside flip, fool!
Here: Coyne lofts a switch ollie over a high
Cleveland area drop before administering 2000
volts directly to his baby maker.
Of a pig, a cop, a wack-ass doof
"No skatin' son!" the asshole barks
"No boards allowed in streets or parks!"
"Whatever, dude," I answer back
Reach in my JNCOs, grab my gat
"No! Please! Help!" the piggy whines
I cock the hammer, flash some signs
BUCK, BUCK, BUCK
I give it to him
Nothin' left but the smell of bacon
-Michael Burnet
School sucked.
Jah lifts Nathan Jones' kickflip high
above the Middletown picnic table.