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Lawrence Hall May 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               The ’57 Chevy in the Woods

The shell of a Chevy rusted in the woods
Almost lost in the blackberry bushes
All of its windows broken, the front bashed in
Pale creepers writhing in and out and down

A kind man gave his son this car, they said
The boy wrecked out and died at hot rod speed
His daddy had the car towed into the weeds
Not knowing what else to do in his despair

We carelessly flung pine cones at the corpse
Then in our shame slunk quietly away
A poem is itself.
Anwar Francis Nov 2015
Do you remember
your red Chevy Cavalier?
a small sweet apple
lying on the ground covered in green
and I would tunnel inside
with vast curiosity
about where we were going
mostly about who you were
how you were
so free.

Laughing through cigarette smoke
I inhaled them both.
Outside was a cat-daddy
that you didn’t believe existed
until you saw the lithe figure
dressed in blue
for yourself.
A smile smashed the window
and your hands tore open the door
above feet carrying you out.
I sat in the red Chevy Cavalier
wondering at all your ways.
Rusty dusty pick up trucks
Old Fords and busted Chevys
Trucks that tear the road apart
And some stuck down the levy

Showing off at the truck show
All polished up and nice
When an old man in a beat up Ford
Looked us over once or twice

It don't matter how the cover looks
It's what's beneath the hood
You may look awful pretty
But, with no power...it's no good
You wanna get the ladies
Remember, it's what's beneath the hood
Although they like a real good ride
There ain't no ride, if there's no wood

I smiled and I watched the gent
Walk and laugh and smile some
He'd mumble something to the girls
And they'd follow to where he'd come

His truck, was old and battered
Wasn't tricked out like the rest
But, when it came to having girls around
This old man was the best

It don't matter how the cover looks
It's what's beneath the hood
You may look awful pretty
But, with no power...it's no good
You wanna get the ladies
Remember, it's what's beneath the hood
Although they like a real good ride
There ain't no ride, if there's no wood

A truck may last a long long time
But you've got to use it right
You've got to check the engine
And try to run it every night

I remember what the old man said
It's about what's there beneath the hood
The girls don't want it pretty
The girls, they want it good.....

It don't matter how the cover looks
It's what's beneath the hood
You may look awful pretty
But, with no power...it's no good
You wanna get the ladies
Remember, it's what's beneath the hood
Although they like a real good ride
There ain't no ride, if there's no wood
mark john junor Jul 2014
midnight wasn't a cure
for all that darkness following her
she could see the sun coming up someplace ahead
always see the cheap advertising long
before some idiot actually hits the switch

stepped on the gas but her feelings kept pace
with this four stroke joke of a machine
one stroke for each time it failed to get her away
from feeling it all over again
she would trade it in
but nobody is feeling sympathetic enough for
that kind of charity

so she will ride it out into the strange night
with some dude speaking french in the passenger seat
seems like hes saying something important
but who the **** knows
she flips him off and turns the radio up
nothing is forever

if she could just stick to the plan
dump the loser's and leeches
find her somebody who speaks the same language
as her crazy good for nothin heart
she could get up outa this
one horse town

go set up in some romantic beach house
and drink margarita's till the world ends
just stick to the plan kiddo
keeps telling herself
as she cozy's up to the french clown
for one last night
just to keep warm
nothing for keeps...right?
Noah A Baker May 2014
“My sole goal in life is to keep racing
down the interstate without a clock
so I can keep going until people forget who I am.”
In my head I knew I was wrong
hypocritical, insane, illogical, but above all I was still
humane!
This, yes, this sole fact is what keeps me
separated from you
draw a straight line down the road we lived on
the squares and the circles.

You, with your fancy plaque and NHS bumper sticker
With the family of four and no reason to feel failure
With your perfect scores and magnificent vernacular
Who let you have it so easy?!

Me, with my Jimi Hendrix poster
family of who knows how many
and the chance to earn my GED in a few years
Why was it me?!

You met your wife in the 10th grade
You gave her a promise ring and everything
Even took her with you on spring break
Who said you didn't have to try?!

I was placed in the wards that year
they said it was insanity
I thought I was just thinking ahead
Why can’t they understand?!

BUT THEY ALWAYS UNDERSTAND YOU!

You, your Shakespeare perfect jargon
Mr. Right, Perfect, next coming of Beethoven
You were made to please everyone and become important!

And that’s what separates us.
Even though it’s the same street that raised us
I bought the Harley and your parents got you the Chevy.
And I recall the one time I was flying down the interstate
And caught up to you as you were going nothing higher than 70.
I stared at you and you kept your eyes on the road.
I don’t blame you, I knew that you just wanted to see my bomber jacket
I have a skull on fire on the back of it
So I gave you a great view
hope you enjoyed it.
hm. idk

— The End —