"chevelle" poems
we could have the summers in italy
the peaches in paradise
the dawns and the dusks and our toes in the sand
but we're doing the vtc and ecstasy
listening to scratched disks and taking shots of drain water
dreamers only think in French you tell me
so i chant the words
je veux tout in my head
i want the nutmeg stuck on the walls in my nose
and your moans in my ear till 4 after midnight
i want the silk sheets wrapped around my neck
the tongues in my mouth
i want to get familiarized with the richness
when a balenciaga shoe hits me and the euros are in my bloodstream
i want to be used to it
the velvet carpets and red lingerie
the colosseum and vatican city
busboys with scruffy berets
expensive wine in busted hotels
chocolate fondue and burnt pasta at the cartels
michelangelo's david and authentic fur coats
tramps and 2 dollar bills down your throat
throwing ash trays at the sistine chapel
gifts of china tea cups and diamond rings to forget the scandals
fat cigars and the bonnie and clyde lifestyle
i want it all in italy baby
je veux tout
je veux tout
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
you want to save the world
be a hero
you're my best friend
dressed in combat boots
'Marines' on your back, on the way to pt
riding in your old Chevelle, on the way to take me home
blasting our music and singing at the top of our lungs
the wind blowing in and out of the car
because driving with the windows down makes you feel free
you make me feel free
when we walk from class to class
talking about things that don't matter
but i couldn't talk about those things with
anyone else
anyone else would look at us and say
we have the deepest fears
but with you in charge
with you by our side
there's absolutely nothing to worry about
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
i've been to enough shows to know how people act
when I saw Three Days Grace, people seemed to
avoid each other at all costs
when I saw chevelle, the room was filled with nostalgia
however, I was far too young to understand
I just loved their music, and the way they arranged words
when I saw New Found Glory, I made a friend
People were goofy, fun to be around
when I saw Paramore, there was so many people
no one really cared to interact, but the one girl
who held my camera up for me because I'm not tall enough
when I saw of mice & men, with Bring Me The Horizon
everyone was so full of energy, and took care of each other
and in all these places, and being surrounded
by all these strangers
it all felt like family
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
HWilliams
Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe
step to song beats or give beats to silence.
Step with feet tired from too much tread,
guess I'll walk on hands instead.
beat to song, gust to mast
sound of travel, its own song.
Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes,
skip steps get applause for pratfalls.
Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats.
Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet.
Door to frame
button to lock
ignition to key
motor noise, engine block.
Radio, radiator, radius, ulna
cylinders under hood
cylinders filled with soda
serpentine belt squeaks, fix it you should.
The car is no Chevelle,
but Chevelle's in my speakers
keep pace with traffic well
"learn to choose to breathe."
Stuck behind brake lights
as soon as headway is made.
Sigh as loud as music plays
click volume arrow upright.
Anger builds when traffic fills.
Stomp throttle or else you'll throttle someone.
Throw insults like a mime in summer,
lip service they might see in mirrors.
Can't point at points A or B
trace stress to line that traces in between
Between the 2 spaces where my car parks
mile markers, tail-gaiters, nail biters.
Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe
step to song beats or give beats to silence.
Step with feet tired from too much tread,
guess I'll walk on hands instead.
Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes,
skip steps get applause for pratfalls.
Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats.
Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
we'll sit on the roof of the '69 chevelle,
legs intertwined,
curves and crevices illuminated
by a motel's flickering vacancy sign.
bellies warm with tennessee whiskey,
we'll stargaze, and i'll stop to
constellate our initials in the sky.
the cicadas will hum to us a waltz,
and we'll dance and twirl
and hold one another close.
then, dawn will come,
and a love kindled at dusk
will quickly burn out.
the sickly sweet viscous liquid
in our bowels
will turn to blood,
coughed up,
staining cheap,
thin sheets.
and i'll find myself sympathizing
with the red glow
of that flickering vacancy sign.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC
The last of six children
You made your way late
Through the humdrum of life
In the Volunteer state
Strapped to the hollows
Where your daddy and kin
Pulled coal from the mountains
And mine shafts within
The hum of the smokestacks
And the fog of the earth
Wore at your senses
And questioned your worth
While the cracks in the family
Like the cracks in the hills
Were as easy to slip through
As fortune’s goodwill
So you took to the bottle
And you took to the boys
With a thirst for the throttle
And the late barroom noise
While your mama and daddy
Sat at home by the phone
Sendin’ prayers for their youngest
Toward the gold plated throne
The folks down in Loudon
Remember too well
The night you rolled through
In your dust caked Chevelle
And the way it spun out
On a stray slab of ore
And careened down the slope
For the cold valley floor
The dirt in those hills
Never merited much
Beyond the black rock
Buried deep in its clutch
But the same soul that sprawled
Beside granddaddy’s grave
Was the same soul consumed
By the soil that day
When the April rains whisper
Their song to the pines
And the distant train whistles
Its lonesome steel whine
Deep in the thunder
Behind the grey hue
Your memory glistens
Like the late morning dew
The last of six children
You made your way late
Through the humdrum of life
In the Volunteer state
Pining for something
Your voice could not name
A dream and a dreamer
Too restless to tame
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
“It was just a twinge”
The unfortunate escalation of slight
Agony into something
Much bigger than the self
Before you know it
you’re sitting in the blackest hole
Thinking **** **** man
I was just a bit sad
And now I’m in perpetual misery.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
-I'm lame, I promise-
No matter how much
innocence you've lost,
holding a new person's hand
is probably always going to be awkward.
And It's probably always going to make your
heart beat.
And when you're at a concert
lying about your age to
a freshman in college
so that he'll actually talk to you...
Your heart will probably start
beating faster then too.
And when he puts his arm around
you just to kiss you
and he looks you in the eyes
even though you're sweating and
your make up is probably smeared
he still calls you beautiful.
Like **** This man
was chiseled by god
and for some reason he's looking at me.
He's pushing away the drunk people
trying to grab at my waist.
Not looking at girls who
are high as a kite trying
move their hips against his.
He just holds my hand
tighter and smiles at me
like "high people just don't stop."
And when Chevelle ended the last song
and the lights came back on
he gave me one more kiss
and disappeared into the crowd.
Like some mysterious prince.
He wants to be a math teacher
and he screams his lungs out
to his favorite songs
head bangs to the beat
and he wrapped his arms around me.
I become infatuated very fast.
Like a corvette C6 I go from 0 to 60 in 4 seconds.
And all I said was that I like his face
and he decided that even though my hair was messed up
and my bruised waist was showing,
I was worth the yelling in
each others ear.
Even though beer and cigarettes were
burning through my tongue he put up
with me.
and this is all pathetic.
and I know I'm not in love.
But during class when the test is going on
and I'm put in the hallway
he's what I write about.
and I am so lame.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC