enfin's reality, music, writing

red lettre

about this time last year i compiled all of my favorite lyrics from a bunch of random songs into a letter- which i then entitled, red lettre.  it’s sort of a stalemate because i plan on adding more, though i know i won’t be getting to it anytime soon- especially if i haven’t gotten to it in a year.  i particularly like this lettre because it’s intended for many folks, and its open to interpretation.

Dear Valentine,
Sometimes I feel like I’m digging a hole, and the walls are cavin’ in behind me, so I made up my mind, don’t need to think it over, I’ll move on to another day, to a whole new town with a whole new way where the music is played by the mad man, but let me just say, darling I love you, I loved you like the moon and stars, but I’ve got an angry heart. And it don’t take no Sherlock Holmes
To see it’s a little different around here, Everybody’s got their box doing what they’re told and we’re all buying into something we don’t want a part of, so I’m just getting tired of this scene. The other day I was taking a walk, when I saw you pass by, and when I saw you smile I cried all night until there was nothing more, my friends they just don’t understand and they’ve said its gotten out of hand, my cryin’ and all. You’re makin’ me crazy, I go out of my way everyday just hopin’ that I catch you walking down the street, but you’re just a real nowhere man, sitting in your nowhere land, making all of your nowhere plans for nobody. I wish I would have had the nerve to ask you to stay, now I spend my nights asking, “Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements?” That doesn’t cut it, it keeps me guessing, and I don’t like that, but I like you, Honey Pie, this is what I want to say, “Let’s be those lovers that walk by, holdin’ hands two by two, because I’m bein’ honest as I can, I could use a little bit of company.”

My momma once told me, that there ain’t no rest for the wicked, and it got me thinkin’, if there ain’t no rest for the wicked, what about the good? You know I wish I could keep being the girl whose always avoided falling in love, but that’s not the case today. Tomorrow I’ll ask you is it me you been lookin’ for while you listen through the cemetary trees, then I’ll say come on drive a little, nothing is forever, and there has to be something better than in the middle. You tell me its cold, your whisper gets softer, as we wander through that crowded space, we’ll head to the edge of the water where we’ll spill our guts and name our fears, then you’ll tell me goodnight. Back home I realize your smile is the most genuine thing I’ve ever seen, it sets my heart aflame, the mention of your name my stomach will fill with butterflies, I want to get close to you, I want to know you better, and someday you’ll have me within your reach. I’ve been told one too many times from boys like you, Hit the Road Jack and don’t you come back no more, they tell me to take a permanent vacation, but something tells me with you it’ll be different. To that I say REJOICE! You don’t have to believe me though. You do what you want, if you want to rock you’ll rock, if you want to roll you’ll roll, only as long as you feel like you’re in control. That’s what I like. Can we run through the grass and all the reeds and meet oh pretty please, there I will tell you what no one knows about me. I pick pockets just to give it all back, I’m a little bit insane, I’m never sure what I’m looking for but it’s always on my mind, maybe all I want is to be loved- in fact I wish my daddy had loved me more. Would you rather me lie to myself? I’m going to burn down those bridges and rip out them stitches. You told me I got good at tellin’ stories when I left and stumbled out the door. I told you to eat so many lemons because you’re so bitter. We’ve got everything down to a science so I guess we know everything- right? What is it about our fights that make me love you more?

I want to dance with you in style, let’s dance for a while, in the daylight where anywhere feels like home, someday, yeah yeah, someday I’ll hug you and I will forget my country, where the rest of the world awaits. Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, you told me, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me,” I want you to know that I’ll take you for what I see, because what I see is what I get. You thought love was such an easy game to play? I thought that Mr. Pitiful had learned his lesson. I promised that I won’t let you down, I won’t break your heart, and I really just want to know you. I want to know your life, that interesting thing we call life, tell me about yours, so we can be friends too. I know you’re scared of loving me but- You know love is better than a song Love is where all of us belong so don’t be shy just let your feelings roll on by. Years ahead, while we’re lying together you say to me, you know, we don’t have the power but we never say never. You tell me that if I try leaving I can’t hide standing under these stars they know everything, they’ll know where you are,
I’m in my head, I’m all turned around with it and they’re shining down their light to bring you back again
Back where I can find you. I know what I am, You know I hear you saying ” I’d sell off my savior for a set of new rings” Don’t sell out, money isn’t everything- and that’s something you taught me. To most a week apart doesn’t seem like a feat, but I miss you more than I should, I know you’re scared that I’ll get over it- but honestly, that’s part of it all. I fear you won’t fall- trust me it’s easy to say, but its a lot harder to feel this way.

I say to you, “OH HONEY PIE You are driving me crazy, I’m in love but I’m lazy, so won’t you please come home, Honey Pie, you are driving me frantic, sail across the atlantic to be where you belong.” You said, “Do you believe what you’re sayin’?” Yeah right now, but not that often. By the time the buzz was wearing off, we were standing out on the sidewalk, with our tattoos that looked like rings ,in the hot Nevada sun and they won’t fade I’ve got you to thank. Take that trip with me to Blueberry Hill.

enfin's reality, writing

ballads and odes and tributes and petrichor.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

thank you ee cummings for making my life so much better with your carefully crafted words, your heart-to-hearts, and your finese.  i carry your heart in my heart.  my newest rendition:

but what brings you here so scarce,
so harsh, so cruel, so wretched and putrid,
and what brings you to my stoop, where you bow your head,
with sadness, and sorrow, and pity, and remorse.
out of your mouth spews a black goo of egocentricity,
and a jargon of a braggadocio.
your face twists and contorts roughly,
almost to the point where its unbearable to see,
because the see-er is effected by your toxins.
your sympathy, a facade perhaps?
slithering through, trying to find a crevice in which you may manifest,
where you may gnaw relentlessly at my mind, and my spirit, at my heart.
absorbing every bit of positivity i may hope for.
taking my life away, making slashes at the seams,
ripping out my resolves,
burning my ambitions for a form of fuel.
into the world you go- barebacked and hungry,
lonely and abandonned for once and at last.
be gone, and don’t return, be foul, and expect the worst.
to dabble, to die, and most of all to wither,
like a violet in the snow, quickly, rapidly,
without a thought.  dig yourself a trench, and fill it with your dreams,
burrow where you won’t be found, and become the person you should be.
evolve. make. despair. propogate.


a little poem entitled, “oh”

the bareback streets,
thought to be as terrifying as the night itself,
the dwindling time,
what with its constant threat of ceasing to continue,
your lack of words,
and perhaps my gift of gab, or so some call it,
breezy type gusts wind through the porch where we dwell,
where that black coffee smell wafts up and through the cracked doorway,
and tea for the tillerman is slowly, but surely,
playing along in the background, helping us realize
that silence is deadly.

eyes flicker with what the day brings.
whether that be rage, surprise, or ease, doesn’t seem to let the human apertures
take breaks, not even short ones.
crunched up stale granola,
dirt engrained under the freshly bit nails,
which by the way have never been manicured.
the sound of chimes making contact with thin rods of steel,
clacking outside the realm in which we sit.

playing cards strewn upon the half-rotted wood,
empty bottles of portocolo and california pinot grigio
plummet out of the electric blue recycle bin,
toxic smoke fumes out of an un-smoked cigarette,
resting, resting, resting,
in the steel dipped tray.

your lips are rounded, as if they huddled
tightly around the words about to exit your mouth,
like the inuit do over a fishing hole.
the eyes that remain as green as the day i first noticed them,
tilted ever so slightly upward, towards the endless sky.
it’s not as clear as it ought to be.
my cup isn’t as empty as it was yesterday
and as far as your words,
that are choked out, as if they were forbidden,
alternate with, oh, oh, oh.

oh. it’s not a word of contentedness.
perhaps because we haven’t obtained complete serenity.
oh, a poor excuse not to continue on with this colloquy,
be bigger than expected,
oh, just tragic, just wonderful, just life.
sensibly, i don’t know.
but deep inside… oh i do.
how i do, oh i do.

Uncategorized, writing

we could solve a mystery together

Foolish: An Interlude

I have this friend, who doesn’t know it.

A boy of many words, all of which vary in length, meaning and origin.  A boy of many places, hailing from New England, only to be found in New England years after his birth.  A boy of a significant rearing- perhaps similar to mine, but at this moment, remains undiscovered by yours truly.  This boy- in essence, the boy, knows me like most.  She’s crazy and funny.  Smart N sassy.  Maybe a bit too young.  But overall, she’s a girl…that I can relate to.  He knows me like that, but he doesn’t.  He hasn’t said those things, perhaps, those words, have never even crossed his mind! It’s atrocious, and detrimental (mind you) to think, that just because I think ever so highly of him, doesn’t mean that he understands, and in exchange, has his own thoughts of me.  He’s my favorite one in town.  He walks with an unchallenged swagger- although, deep down he’s broken- deep down, he’s just as anxious as me.  Deep down he knows this interlude is addressed to him.  But he hides,

he hides behind a false persona, and he expects me to laugh, like the rest of the folk we remain in sync with.  In town, I rarely see him.  There were phases, where, I did, on occasion, run in to him, walking up & down the hills (can you even call them that), where I’d run into him, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, his eyes darting from place to place, without any given pattern, or any specific subject. 

Unlike most however, I don’t look at him as just another funny guy.  Yes, he has a sense of humor- but that of course is not his defining quality.  He speaks out to me, whether he knows it or not.  His 15 year old boyish demeanor (even though his age in real life is far beyond those years) wins me over, the quirkiness and how he carries himself.  Bad posture.  No sense of time, and in addition- no sense of consequence? He’d argue this, that’s for sure, but I see it.  He may think things through, but he thinks things through for the moment, not for the future.  Whether or not he knows this- even with his wonderful qualities, and his pas desired ones, he is my other.  He knows me deep down.  His prose narrates it.  And I need him to realize, that I, yes, I, am his narrator, to this tragic tale, of life, love, death, and what’s to come next.