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"fidlar" poems
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band King Khan and the Barbeque Show, Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival. Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys Florence + the Machine Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant *** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bob Dylan Young the Giant, The ** Ugly Casanova, Modest Mouse, The Doors Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes: all gnarly
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
geovanni-alfaro
all gnarly
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band King Khan and the Barbeque Show, Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival. Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys Florence + the Machine Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant *** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bob Dylan Young the Giant, The ** Ugly Casanova, Modest Mouse, The Doors Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes: all gnarly
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17
I was 17. My hair was shaggy, I finally had some curves, and my room was always a mess. He was 18. He was taller than me by a foot, so strong and devastatingly charming. He was a gentleman. He never sagged his pants, he liked big expensive watches, Zippos, and taking girls out for dinner. He'd offer to drive me home even though I live down the street. The first night we met he shook my hand just like a man should. He was grandma's basement. A secret place that's always a mess with crushed beers littered on the floor, bleary stains, and ***** smells. Where Tuesdays are spent like Fridays making memories with friends we all hardly remember. He'd try to sneak looks at me from across the room. He was my best friend. We saw each other ever day for weeks, never getting sick of it. We swallowed pizza like air, talked with our mouths full, and belched like a couple of boys. He was FIDLAR. One day I said, "Have you heard this band?" He stared at me in a daze, turned up the volume, and that was that. The whole neighborhood could hear us singing along that day. He was a green Chevy Tahoe. It could be heard from down the street. I'd wait to hear the roar outside my window. The passenger seat, a second home. My feet on the dash, his wrist dripped over the steering wheel. We had no cares in the world. He was getting high at 3 in the morning outside my house while my parents sleep. I already felt like I was on drugs, so no high compared. But we laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more until out ribs were sore. He was a pack of camel blues. His lips stained my neck. Nicotine on my tongue, so sweet. He'd flip a stoge for luck, leaving it for last. That's when I knew. Maybe we'd get lucky somehow. Has she ever noticed the pungent smell my skin leaves? When he goes back to her, leaving me for last.
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
foxface
10 Things About You
I was 17. My hair was shaggy, I finally had some curves, and my room was always a mess. He was 18. He was taller than me by a foot, so strong and devastatingly charming. He was a gentleman. He never sagged his pants, he liked big expensive watches, Zippos, and taking girls out for dinner. He'd offer to drive me home even though I live down the street. The first night we met he shook my hand just like a man should. He was grandma's basement. A secret place that's always a mess with crushed beers littered on the floor, bleary stains, and ***** smells. Where Tuesdays are spent like Fridays making memories with friends we all hardly remember. He'd try to sneak looks at me from across the room. He was my best friend. We saw each other ever day for weeks, never getting sick of it. We swallowed pizza like air, talked with our mouths full, and belched like a couple of boys. He was FIDLAR. One day I said, "Have you heard this band?" He stared at me in a daze, turned up the volume, and that was that. The whole neighborhood could hear us singing along that day. He was a green Chevy Tahoe. It could be heard from down the street. I'd wait to hear the roar outside my window. The passenger seat, a second home. My feet on the dash, his wrist dripped over the steering wheel. We had no cares in the world. He was getting high at 3 in the morning outside my house while my parents sleep. I already felt like I was on drugs, so no high compared. But we laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more until out ribs were sore. He was a pack of camel blues. His lips stained my neck. Nicotine on my tongue, so sweet. He'd flip a stoge for luck, leaving it for last. That's when I knew. Maybe we'd get lucky somehow. Has she ever noticed the pungent smell my skin leaves? When he goes back to her, leaving me for last.
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