Guitars and Drums

Driskill Handmade Guitar

When I was young I used to bang away at air guitars,

the drums were speaking,

and the air was filled with metal.

When I was older I condemned it all,

I shunned the culture, like the Amish do,

realizing now I was wrong,

pride was condemning.

So, no more negative monsters,

tearing me down, speaking death,

but loud guitars and drums,

speaking with power a positive message,

Not religion just positive,

songs like, Up from the Ashes, Not Gonna Die,

speaking life, not death,

building me up, not tearing down,

rock on.

The Letter Black – from Wikipedia

Poetry © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

Chevy

Chevy

Ratchet turning to the left

taking off the valve cover,

scraping off the gasket

with a putty knife.

Thinking of Tracy while

putting on the new.

Underneath the monolith,

draining the life blood – oil,

new filter.

Up top, adjusting the carburetor,

right mixture of fuel and air.

Where did I put her phone number?

Closing the hood, and wiping off smudges,

looking her over, and starting her up,

glass pacs on the exhaust roaring,

mag wheels jumping, ready to rumble.

Does she like me?

There was no time for peace,

too busy looking cool or trying,

it was all about power and speed.

Revving, pushing the clutch in,

taking it out of neutral, putting it in

first gear,

then stomping the gas pedal.

Wheels spinning with smoke,

incredible noise and power,

fishtailing, dragster.

Should I take her to the movies?

It was 1976.

 

 

 

 

© Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree