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letra de our mutual enemy - marsy mars

verse 1
then as now, when i leave, i like to take the bus;
i used to imagine the fabric must and the passing towns
as a steaming bayou river, the bus a vessel that’d stream
me down, long from my problems if i’d simply sit back and let it
it was the good place in my bad place; that too a moving one
i looked out of my one eye of goldenrod, one of cobalt blue
through two brilliant songs in one composition
and as one reviewed the future, and one impugned the past
i finally realised i’d seen it all
carried as though on the dance of time’s reconciled feet
i returned to mother standing on the veranda. “look at you,”
she greeted me “with your desolating passions made
sweet and resigned and pensive, and then desolating again”
she was right, though her expression was wiped blank to be redrawn
when i told her i’d returned simply to tell her “thanks
this place was both profoundly abusive, and not denuded
of qualities – i always believed this family could improve
an optimism that steeled me, stole me, saved me from vulneration
to that emotional abomination of hating one’s family
you took so much, it’s true, but you gave givesomely too
both whether and not and how and when you meant to
that is why i walk now a good that is fierce in defending itself
if i’d never learned from you and dad, how could i defeat you?”
either because she was drunk, or because she recognised
my freedness was there to bunk her guilt, she softened seemed
“i remember as a boy when you tried to defend yourself
against a bully and were punished the worse; rightfully
you came home looking like a man wronged by the universe
it’s no spiteful absurdity to suggest you needed subjection
to such self-same rigged tests to thrive in your dad’s world.”
mother said “i’m glad we fought
and now my monte carlo has come
for you don’t know how much i bet upon
the fact that, by the fight’s end, you’d have won”
that’s what i drew from ma’s statement
she knew they had failed, and how
and how in me they’d seen that failure rise again;
i left, smiling that subtle smile of victory i knew
she’d been waiting for to sister spying from
behind the curtain of the window by the door
looking as she had looked at dinner
an isleworth of herself

verse 2
a fierce good is one liable to coax the fierceness
from the bad and render it as amenable
however faithless it remains, as a housecat
all that conflict made of me
a worshipper of that fierce deity, however much
i might despise the circumstance and who yielded it;
for imagine the scene
my enmity attends, with polity to mask
its treachery, my enemy, my meaninghood
which is that, so long as there is one person treated as less
for their uniqueness in this world, there is work to be done
such purpose divvies our streams round islands of fate
fate making stick huts and wailing marble of us all
against our will, until our choice rights our course
or that will floods the isles and unites the stream again
it could be me, it could be you
a good strong enough to be fierce
remaining cool in the face of that ridicule
to believe the hype you saw smithed can’t be pierced
that hype with meaning, the excitement that
heralds that boundless vision
of all the good your potential could author;
‘whelmed to my knees, then to my back i fell
and let out a scream, no different than
had i been overtaken by a nightmare
whose tale was too much in terror to tell
oh, everything i could be, what a consoling and
terrifying figure you seem to me!
verse 3
there must be other ways to that culture
than the one that spared me and k!lled my brother
by whom, i dare, i am not haunted; in truth i despise
what happened to him, as i believe he’d have wanted
i remain in touch with that pain
such that may humanise me
but, oddly i find, the pain refuses
to inflict itself on me
almost friendly, albeit a friend
one remembers having feared
and for whose subsequent allegiance one feels
grace outsized
but brother walks with me, gives me the confidence
to be perhaps the world’s most unpopular man
for who else could raise such hackles like wood
working to deride the bad as he criticises the good?
here’s where the tale of the good guy
becomes uncomfortable even for the true acolyte
into the better future-you, you can’t truly alight
until you’ve essayed without railing your every failure
neglecting the responsibility of your wealth
forgetting the obligation that comes with every vote
maintaining your energetic and chloeric negative ethic
that bids you seek unity for the sake of what you hate
your fearful indifference to love
your unwillingness to know and be known, your willingness
to sacrifice others’ happiness for your convenience
your sheer failure to rise from failure like a phoenix
i hated myself at first for the list i’d filled
then for the time i thought i’d wasted building it
then for the time i’d spent being dishonest to myself
then i hated myself no more
the will to make things better is our most sublime mineral
been in for dismal treatment in recent years
but to it i’ll be a magnate, like my daddy was
patience, willingness to submit to epiphanies; fairness, admiration
and receipt of contrition, hatred of cynicism; these are the alloys we’ll make
forgive me if discomfort or disappointment i’ve brought you
but if i have at least place your vision where you ought to
on fields beset by famine of the power of hope
lack of generosity and fear of risk; our true mutual enemy
sapping the beauty still visible in many, like a palm tree
fretted with the bronze of rust
gulls fly alongside the bus
i feel the meaning of your journey’s turning
and the river, our only mutual friend;
mars marks the end

- marsy mars

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