| MOTORCYCLE MAMA She's dressed in leather, black as night. On those long legs its quite a sight. She rides her Harley like a man. Shoulder to shoulder she can stand. With any biker on the street. Tough as nails, but looks so sweet. And if some stud should catch her eye. She'll speak right up, she won't be shy. Its a lucky man who'll get together. With this angel in black leather. For she's the kind of woman who, can share home and the road with you. |
| Poetry By Gary St. Pierre |
 |
| THE ITCH Pipes rumble in the humid air of a sultry summer night. Prowling through the city streets looking for a fight. He needs to do some damage and take a little pain. Adrenalin is pumping. It feeds the need again. Waiting for an asshole, who thinks he's way too cool. An attitude adjustment will show him who's the fool. When the night is over and he's back on that ride. He's stiff and sore and bloody, and completely satisfied! |
 |
| Howlin' Full moon shining bright as day. The wolf rises in the blood. Can't sleep, he needs to ride and play. Emotions at the flood. The Harley growls beneath him. Highway stretches out ahead. The night wind cools his fever. He wants to ride until he's dead. He's lost now in the moment. The night, the wind, the moon. The thrill of speed and power. Morning will come way too soon. Poor cagers, man they'll never know how good a man can feel. Roaring like a rocket, down the highway on two wheels. |
| AUTO-EROTICA She thrums between my legs. A bitch in internal combustion heat. She hums against my balls, a song that feels so sweet. The wind wrapping 'round us feels like fingers on my skin. A twist of my hand on the throttle turns her purr to roaring sin. We consume the road like gluttons. We can't be satisfied. Wanting more and more and still some more. An endless throbbing ride. So when my life has run its course and I have breathed my last. Scatter my ashes on the road while the Hogs are roaring past! |
 |
| BIKER HEAVEN An eternity of highway that runs through scenic views. An occasional roadhouse where the ladies welcome you. You meet only brothers on the road, no cages or cops at all. You can ride out there forever and heed the highway's call. You'll find the brothers you have lost riding wild and free. There'll be reunions everyday, the way it ought to be. With nights around a campfire or in a roadside bar. Waiting for a tired biker who's ridden fast and far. Its the reward of the righteous and it waits for you and me. When we've laid our earthly burden down. When our soul's set free. |
| Biker Fantasy Leather clad legs, a shapely pair. You'd love to see them in the air. They're clamped around a Harley seat. That girl, that bike both look so sweet A fantasy in leather and chrome. Its enough to make a man leave home. and follow anywhere she leads. Dreaming of the dirty deeds, that she just might make you do. Before she's had her fill of you. Gary St. Pierre |