What’s Crackin by Najee Janey

Hey y’all,

How is everyone doing seems like a weird question to ask these days but I’ll put it out there anyways. I hope you’re well and this finds you healthy and in good spirits. I’ve started getting lines floating around in my head so I’ve been writing which feels good. I go through periods of silence and periods where I write a lot n have a lot to say but I let it come and go naturally instead of trying to force it and write every day. I like to observe, process, and then create or speak when it comes to my work in general no matter the medium. But that applies for my poetry directly. I just wrote this at (12:36am) …only ten minutes off from my poem (12:26am) so that’s cool. But I wrote this just now and I already like it so here you go!

*sidenote Najee Janey is an incredibly talented Boston musician. Definitely give his expanding catalog a listen or several, you’re welcome! He’s always a smoov vibe.

A Shuffle Worth Exactly 346 Words n A Helluvalotta Introspection 

You know that song still reminds me 

You’re the one who showed it to me. 

Everytime I hear it.

Everytime I show someone else. 

These are the ways you haunt me. 

These are the ways you roam my hallways. 

In search of what? 

To spite whom? 

I point out your favorite lyrics.

When I always remembered the chorus

Word for word,

That was what we sang together,

That’s what chorus means.

It means you and me.

It means this song is our peace treaty. 

Chorus means to sing songs over each other, 

And not care if they’re in tune.

These are the ways you filled me. 

These are the holes still leaking. 

As the song fades, 

It reminds me that we enjoyed every bit

Until it was gone. 

Until we sucked our fingers to bone. 

And now it’s immortal 

As long as it plays again.

You float in the air like the last smoke of the night,

Before you choke,

Before your eyes hurt,

Before you look around like the song pulled you over,

And you think about how you knew your parts and mine.

But they don’t sound right without me.

You wonder if, across town, I play it too.

I hear it too.

These are the ways,

The time hollows us.

The time grows us in its garden.  

And we get to go back.

Just for the time it takes that song to sketch your grin in my mind,

Make out your shoulders in the bridge,

Leave your eyes for the chorus,

Leave the refrain for your falsetto skin,

The bass for the brows you pinch as I hit that note—

We were proud then. 

We made our promises in vain. 

And pocketed our failures like napkins in a glove box. 

The song is the only place we meet now. 

It’s the only place we forgive ourselves for not finishing each argument—

Or starting one to say something.

Anything the song couldn’t. 

Anything we still refuse to say til this day. 

Let the song play again. 

And maybe we can find a word between us 

To share.  

thanks y’all. Stay safe. Stay sane.