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A girl-friend of mine blogged this, thought it was worth sharing. What else you guys got artsy?


Just riding the bike in your leather, oh how much fun we have together.
Burning tires, turning sharp in the curves like on wires.
Viewing scenery enjoying all the beautiful greenery.
When we are out and about theres no telling our route.
Your wild and I'm crazy and when we're together I get a lil hazy.
You're everything to me in this world and I'm so glad that I'm your girl.
I don't know why you picked me but I can tell you that you make me really extremely happy





My addition:

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Police lights are too
 

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There once was a girl from Nantucket,
Who washed her SV with a bucket.
She slipped on wet grass,
And busted her ***,
Then rinsed off her bike and said **** it!

;D
 

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Bike art..

Sorry I cant make poems!



Here is a zoom in..



Did I say I like bikes? :rock:



But this is a wall poster in my room.. mmmm!

I wish I could host a high resoluion picture.. so people on this site could find their bikes in it.. :eek:
 

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haHA! This is a real poem! Out of a book! I can actually read! Even though I honestly don't much like the poem, I remembered it from some class or other I had to take. Seriously...I'm a Mechanical Engineering major...I don't need culture! Culture's for cool people and my pocket protector says that being cool will never be an issue!

What the Motorcycle Said
Mona Van Duyn (written 1950)

Br-r-ram-m-m, rackety-am-m, OM, Am:
All-r-r-room, r-r-ram, ala-bas-ter-
Am, the world’s my oyster.

I hate plastic, wear it black and slick,
hate hardhats, wear one on my head,
that’s what the motorcycle said.

Passed phonies in Fords, knocked down billboards, landed
on the other side of The Gap, and Whee,
bypassed history.

When I was born (The Past), baby knew best.
They shook when I bawled, took Freud’s path,
threw away their wrath.

R-r-rackety-am-m. Am. War, rhyme,
soap, meat, marriage, the Phantom Jet
are ****, and like that.

Hate pompousness, punishment, patience, am into Love,
hate middle-class moneymakers, live on Dad,
that’s what the motorcycle said.

Br-r-r-am-m-m. It’s Nowsville, man. Passed Oldies, Uglies,
Straighties, *******. I’ll never be
mean, tired, or unsexy.

Passed cigarette suckers, souses, mother-****ers,
losers, went back to Nature and found
how to get VD, stoned.

Passed a cow, too fast to hear her moo, "I rolled
our leaves of grass into one ball.
I am the grassy All."

Br-r-r-am-m-m, rackety-am-m, OM, Am:
All-gr-r-rin, oooohgah, gl-l-utton-
Am, the world’s my smilebutton.
 
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