Brambles
Hurricane Wilma for us, at least so far, has been a light to moderate rain. Less violent than a summer thunderstorm. Good.
Been busy this morning writing this. Maybe finished, maybe not. Read it unhurriedly. It's a story. Kind of mostly autobiographical, a little bit not so much. The not so true hangs off the true parts like spanish moss. It is a separate thing, but is nothing without the host. The two are supposed to be together. A live oak is just a tree. Spanish moss is just a weed. A live oak draped in spanish moss IS the south and the south is the fabric of my life. That is my style, my stories, my very friction and truth.
The story is, of course, about a girl. It always is.
Brambles 24 Oct 2005
She was seventeen when she fell in love
And seventeen year love don’t ever lie
But like a charm hanging off of a drug store bracelet
It’s sure to get lost over time.
He left her standing there alone with her heart hung out
Feeling blue that was as open as the sky
Learning boys will treat you fine for a moment in time
Then boys are gonna tell you goodbye
Left her looking for a reason for believing again
A couple years of trying out that scene
The kind of girl that’s always on the tip of your tongue
But you never can remember her name
Just like I’d want to be treated myself
I know she meant to touch my hand when I counted her change
If she was hurting she was hiding it well
She was young and we really hadn’t talked too much
She didn’t understand to study someone’s eyes
She liked to listen to my stories ‘cause they made her laugh
Said she needed more of that in her life
We were sitting in the kitchen on a Saturday night
I was thinking some and studying the ground
Hey, a man is a man is a man inside
And a pretty girl is fun to have around
I asked her, "Where we going to? Now tell me true.
I mean, tonight how come you find yourself with me?
I have the miles that serve to back up my stories I tell
And the scars to prove I know how to bleed."
"You strike me as a flower that has started to grow
Outside the garden near the brambles and the weeds.
You spread your wings in the freedom of the sunshine and wind
But the brambles are deceitful and mean."
She said, "You color me all with circles and rhymes
Don’t talk to me in similes and codes
Don’t treat me like a child that needs your hand to protect
Her from a night that can sometimes turn cold."
"I’m here because I wanna be. If not I’d be gone
It’s a matter of trust. Not a chain.
And a good man is handy so you keep one around
You’re as good, now, as any I’ve seen.
As the sunset slinks and dances, then it slips away
To a drummer that you know you did not choose
The game is in the playing and the players, you know
We were playing by two different rules
See, I thought I was gonna save her
And she was gonna rescue me
I was gonna teach her my secrets
But she took what she needed from me
Well we didn’t mean to share so deeply
Nah, we didn’t mean to share so much
We didn’t mean to mix up all our dreams like we did
That they’d explode into sparks when we touch
We didn’t mean to mix up all our dreams like we did
The lesson hasn’t taught us much
Hurricane Wilma
Ed
Been busy this morning writing this. Maybe finished, maybe not. Read it unhurriedly. It's a story. Kind of mostly autobiographical, a little bit not so much. The not so true hangs off the true parts like spanish moss. It is a separate thing, but is nothing without the host. The two are supposed to be together. A live oak is just a tree. Spanish moss is just a weed. A live oak draped in spanish moss IS the south and the south is the fabric of my life. That is my style, my stories, my very friction and truth.
The story is, of course, about a girl. It always is.
Brambles 24 Oct 2005
She was seventeen when she fell in love
And seventeen year love don’t ever lie
But like a charm hanging off of a drug store bracelet
It’s sure to get lost over time.
He left her standing there alone with her heart hung out
Feeling blue that was as open as the sky
Learning boys will treat you fine for a moment in time
Then boys are gonna tell you goodbye
Left her looking for a reason for believing again
A couple years of trying out that scene
The kind of girl that’s always on the tip of your tongue
But you never can remember her name
Just like I’d want to be treated myself
I know she meant to touch my hand when I counted her change
If she was hurting she was hiding it well
She was young and we really hadn’t talked too much
She didn’t understand to study someone’s eyes
She liked to listen to my stories ‘cause they made her laugh
Said she needed more of that in her life
We were sitting in the kitchen on a Saturday night
I was thinking some and studying the ground
Hey, a man is a man is a man inside
And a pretty girl is fun to have around
I asked her, "Where we going to? Now tell me true.
I mean, tonight how come you find yourself with me?
I have the miles that serve to back up my stories I tell
And the scars to prove I know how to bleed."
"You strike me as a flower that has started to grow
Outside the garden near the brambles and the weeds.
You spread your wings in the freedom of the sunshine and wind
But the brambles are deceitful and mean."
She turned to me with eyes that burned through me
With a gaze she held so steady and direct
When she finally spoke, she spoke to me slowly
I know she meant every word that she said
With a gaze she held so steady and direct
When she finally spoke, she spoke to me slowly
I know she meant every word that she said
She said, "You color me all with circles and rhymes
Don’t talk to me in similes and codes
Don’t treat me like a child that needs your hand to protect
Her from a night that can sometimes turn cold."
"I’m here because I wanna be. If not I’d be gone
It’s a matter of trust. Not a chain.
And a good man is handy so you keep one around
You’re as good, now, as any I’ve seen.
As the sunset slinks and dances, then it slips away
To a drummer that you know you did not choose
The game is in the playing and the players, you know
We were playing by two different rules
See, I thought I was gonna save her
And she was gonna rescue me
I was gonna teach her my secrets
But she took what she needed from me
Well we didn’t mean to share so deeply
Nah, we didn’t mean to share so much
We didn’t mean to mix up all our dreams like we did
That they’d explode into sparks when we touch
We didn’t mean to mix up all our dreams like we did
The lesson hasn’t taught us much
Hurricane Wilma
Ed
Leggo my Eggo, out
Ramblin' Ed
That's what I'm about. Ramblin' Ed at 9:26 AM
3 comments:
Brilliant!!!
Well, that's a mighty big thought that may not really apply.
I thank you though, anyway.
I like it. It is me but it isn't me and this time its more not than is but what it is it is in a different way than it usually is so its more of a brain friction when i read it, or something like when your shirt is staticish and it sticks to your skin and makes your arm hair stick up. Not unpleasant just unusual. And I don't like the eye picture. While I see with every part of me I dont want to be seen that way. Muy creepy-Jn
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