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nick armbrister Sep 2023
Those Bikes
See the goth heavy metal custom motorcycle
Ride past with a long haired rider
Dressed how they should be dressed
Black jeans t shirt denim leather
Low rider chopper as it should be
With twin coffin saddle bags
What a ride to the other side
Give him Devil fingers\M/!
Then there was a classic looking bike
Parked up alone
And I saw two racing bikes
One with a fairing the other naked
Heard his engine as he passed
A man asked me on the bridge
Where am I going?
Planet Mars on a custom bike
With my chick and loud tunes
Now you read my title,
it isn't what it seems,
but I love him.

I love his color, the way he shines so bright,
The way he let's me put my legs around him tight.
When I turn him on, he fires up strong, then I think of my favorite song.

My legs begin to shake, as I pull towards the tank,
Clutch in, gear down, throttle up and let's go to town
then off we go riding through the sun, fire strong like a love so long.

I love him,
My black velvet.
A lady & her motorcycle.
live hard,
care free on
the open lanes
just to get a
from it all.

how am i supposed to
have any fun
cooped up
like a house cat?

this place is different,
just enough light and
not too sticky but
the hops taste like
stale lollipops.

"call for a good time"
thanks, way ahead of ya.
two-dollar condoms?
what a way to make
an extra buck.

i'm back, sorry
wasn't expecting
to stay so long.
i'm parked out front,
what's your favorite
breakfast food?

Mom warned me not to
trust these dogs,
should've used
my last eight quarters.
for L.J.W.
the ones that teach you,
who lift you up over
their heads
in good faith,
these are their stories.
First glances are strong and ripe,
First touch is like a midnight musk against my skin,
Right leg goes over and i'm sitting on my black beauty Virago,
She's a warrior, fierce as fire and brings light into my darkness.
Everyone tells me "you're" dangerous but can't they see i enjoy the thrill of the rush between my legs as the rumble dream continues further unto highway 10.
Fresh crisp air, blue sunny sky, these are moments i'll remember when i'm older, true and genuine.
I love my motorcycle and always will,
no one can ever change the rumble dreams i have for my ride.
A lady and her motorcycle. I want to travel the world with you
There's something about the rumbling sound beneath our feet in the summers heat and the smell of exhaust covering our leather jackets and jeans.
I want to take my beauty and ride her from day until dawn.
I want to take her on adventures that we never seen before to make our ride as magical as it should seem.
When your with me, i feel free, because you're my stallion, my black beauty Queen.
The virago roars and runs beneath my ***, as my hair dances in the wind to the sound of my bikes heart beat matching to mine when adrenaline's meet.
She's loud, dark and fun.
So exciting, all the places that me and you can see.
Let's ride into the sunset, where our heaven meets and it's just me, you and my black beauty.
Me, and my motorcycle Black Beauty.
Sharon Talbot Jan 2019
Perhaps his duality would always be
For had he not been made this way
by genetic chance?
A hulking man with gardener's shirt
and biker's leather pants?
He might speed along a coastal highway,
Wind in his greasy hair,
Unchopped Harley shivering,
Eyes watering from the wind,
or was it because of sheer depth of soul?
As he peeled along, avoiding fatal curves,
Did his thoughts of roses blooming
keep him from launching himself
into the fog?
Were the droplets on his face,
full of salt from the sea,
the same as those he saw
in the morning dew on his flowers?
He was a not a Hunter Thompson,
who might return home to drink and write
reams of rage against the foul Effendi,
who beset him at night
after descending from their mansions.
Yet he too needed respite and beauty,
an Owl Farm in his mind,
Or a hotel on Sunset Boulevard,
Safe under the canopy, among the palms,
His security, not a typewriter
but a garden of perfect roses
that he would tend and breed,
Keeping beauty alive to feed
His hidden desire for peace and order.
Like an old man in the country,
The “rose rustler”he played
Lived in a little house,
His unassuming paradise,
with a cat, as secretive as him,
a lone goldfish in a bowl,
who looked out each day on
manicured paths and brick walls,
worthy of any English manor,
with acres of flowers,
dozens of colors...
but every single one a rose.
This whole thing sprang out of a title from a photo site, combined with an excellent book I read, "Freak Kingdom", by Timothy Denevi, about Hunter Thompson's "Ten years of fighting against American Fascism". If you read this, it would help to listen to Elvis Costello's "Brilliant Mistake" simultaneously!
Wolftrax May 2016
Put your arms around me, never let go
Tonight we’re going down this winding road
I’ve got all I need right here, tonight
If you agree to come along and make this right

My life has been lonely for too **** long
My heart has been beaten and trying to hold on
You don’t know how close I’ve come to giving up
The pain hurt too much, I had more than enough

Then I saw you walk into my life, on that summer day
You turned my life around, I had better things to say
I knew there was something about you, yet to see
I was so glad you took that chance, to be with me

So as I pack the last of my things, and ask one more time
Will you come with me, ride with me, forever be mine?
The road gets lonely, and together we could do more
This could open so many options, who knows whats in store
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