Below is the poem entitled on first looking into pirsig's zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance which was written by poet
mccartney. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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I followed you down that long straight road
Stretched through plain under sky
You with your boy and your bicycle
Me, with Despair in my stare and my sigh.
And we came to the Dante-esque crossroads
And watched as ghosts in machines drove by.
I had seen, of course, this show before
But not with you by my side
And the loneliness was lessened
With two caught on life’s cold neap tide.
Two sheep in the false wolf’s clothing
Of an alienating pride.
Trekking miles of running blacktop
Not knowing if to or from
Just keeping present with the moments
Of time coming and time gone.
And the twisted things that the intellect
Poured its poisoned moonlight on.
We stopped at a dusty layby
High and bare upon a bluff
And I felt suddenly false and foolish
Caught up in your family stuff.
Like a dog around a carcass
Who cannot eat enough.
Oh blindly I adored you
Your machinelike cold control
As you calmly dissected other lives
In a way that showed no soul.
And I thus refused what God had dropped
In my Buddhist begging bowl.
When we chilled out at the ranchhouse
I simply couldn’t see
Was not where we needed to be.
That we cut ourselves with the scalpel
That was meant to set us free.
We were miles from that messy pump the heart
That overrules the head
When talk comes dark and throaty
Or gesture rules instead.
And the soft look of submission
Says the things that can’t be said.
O it’s hard to track the wolf man
Who hates being spied upon
And who when he sees it’s over
Thinks it’s easy to move on.
For the present’s lean and hungry
And the road leads from Babylon.
Yes it’s hard to see the wolfman
Ever watchful for the spy
Tho’ sometimes you will catch him
Under the fitful moonlit sky
On a road forever straightened
In his wide and suffering eye.