jonberger

Come the new world, we will know each other
not through the old ways.
We will not communicate through words
or through tongues
at least, not for language.
We will kiss to get across
what needs be clarified.

In the new world, our bodies shall pass on
the necessary information
and justify our government
and social systems, too.

Come the new world, there will be immediate action on sensual crimes for nothing could be worse
than such violations
and they must be acted upon immediately.

New world; new rules.

Upon the new world, these changes will be immediate
and burned into us.
You shall see, children,
before I’m a dead old man.

It’s much quieter down here where everyone is free
under the waves, you see, beneath this peaceful sea
of daffodils.
I was at first raging, but then I grooved on the privacy
of my interment, where I could anchor where I wanted to be
under daffodils.

I was sailing with Charon on a golden boat beneath a cemetery.
I saw my life flash before me – and disappear – spontaneously.
My world has both contracted and grown miraculously
and all since I’ve been imported below by the authority
of daffodils.

Living below is so strange and so wondrous a fantasy.
I feel like it’ll end if I just click my heels and count "One, two, three.
No more daffodils."

But it’s not so, I am sure I can’t go quite so easily.
I’m inhumed here and I fear that forever I’ll be a lessee

to the daffodils.

The need is gnawing.
The need is distinct.
The need is constant
and clawing
and cloying
and leaves me hungry for more
and useless for little else.

The need is leaving me less and less
day after day of your stay away from me
and I don’t know if I can bear your absence much longer.

When will you be coming back?
Can I pick you up at the station?
I just hope I’ll still be able to drive…

The day breaks. Your toe aches. You think that means rain
but when looking outside it’s plain
the day is simply gorgeous.
Great news! Exit blues. Knot shoes.
Go cruise the neighborhood.
Not every morning looks this good.

Not every morning looks this good.

Postwoman smiles, no dogs for miles
and clouds are nights away.
Kids are drawing on the street.
It looks like everyone’s on holiday.
The town is at a dance.
The town is in a trance.
It feels like some fine romance.

It feels like some fine romance.

As you wander, you start to ponder,
"Why isn’t every day like this?
So rapturous, so glorious,
with every moment full of bliss!"
It is then you spy a woman whom
you’d very like to know
who approaches, beams upon you
and bestows a gracious kiss.

Not every morning is this good.
It feels like some fine romance.

Not any morning could be this good.

A lifetime is so short, and through it, plans are thwarted.
Only death will part us, is what our vows purported
and though we started strong, it’s now harder to deny
that all the joys between us seem to fly on by and
it’s over now between us; it’s real easy to see
I won’t be near you since you’re not in my vicinity.
If surgery’s completed with a rusty butter knife,understand it’s happening: I gotta get you outta my life!

Gotta get you out; I can substantiate it.
Gotta get you out; can we negotiate it?
Gotta get you out; I feel so enervated.

Gotta get you out, gotta get you out of my life!

I’m sure this sounds like some familiar song, but
I’ll feel a whole lot better, once I know you’re gone.
Still, it’s true, the state we’re in’s incomplete
and we’ve got to declare our love’s defeat!
So come on: let’s bring the papers in
so everyone will know we’re living in sin.
It’s important to ensure that you’re forever not my wife.
As long as that’s done: hooray! I gotta get you outta my life!

Gotta get you out; it’s so important to do.
Gotta get you out; I’d love it if it were true.
Gotta get you out; I know you want it, too.
Gotta get you out, gotta get you out of my life!

I don’t want to blow up on you
but there’s some stuff I just have to unleash
that I’ve been holding on to for longer than I meant to.

If I had just released this earlier
sooner
nearer to when we met
it wouldn’t feel so explosive now
but it’s been so long
and it feels like it’s just built up so much
that when I open the floodgates
it’s just going to be some unstoppable tide.

I hope you’re prepared to take
what I’ll be putting forth.
I hope you enjoy it
but whether you do or not
I’ve just got to let go.
It’s time.

I caught feelings.

What were you thinking I was talking about?

Listen now: the town is all a’buzzing
about this great guy’s details, they’re discussing.
To get near him, everybody’s shoving.
Ask him what he wants, and he says “Nothing.”

This man, he has a golden life,
he has it all; he lacks all strife.
The perfect face, the perfect wife.
Everything about him is absolutely rife
with perfection. His connections
are impeccable.

If you don’t want to be him, you want to be by his side
or at least be allowed to coat-tail on his ride.
To witness wonder, hope there’s naught he hides,
knowing if he asks you, that naught will be denied.

This man, his life is proven gold.
His fate like destiny foretold
of some hero, strength ninefold
unleashed to take on trolls of old
who need beating and defeating.
He’s incredible.

Hey there! Make sure that you can see
what Mister Special is up to on TV!
So cool; wouldn’t everyone agree?
No doubt he’s living splendidly.

This man, a golden life he has.
He’s got so many things! Such as:
A golden house near Alcatraz,
a golden horse named Razzmatazz
and he can ring-a-ding sing with swing like a king.
It’s amazing.

There are times with the brightness and the night.
The two AM darkness and the eight AM bright.
Struggles to stay awake and the caffeine flights.
The hours are not always our friend.

The sleep can control you and waking’s abrupt.
With too many changes your body corrupts.
If only a system exists to disrupt.
When will it ever end?

There’s a solution. It is this potion:

MorpheusEndz. Never sleep again.
MorpheusEndz. It’s your only friend.
MorpheusEndz. Eyes open all the time.
MorpheusEndz: Oh, the heights you can climb!

With MorpheusEndz, you can live endlessly.
The routine is simple; just take one pill daily
and go about twenty four hours of life
without thinking ’bout slowdown or stoppage or strife.

Just keep on moving; you’ll be feeling fine.
We’ll make you feel smoother than dandy-line wine
and if you should ever desire to stop
then that ought to be the time that you don’t pop a

MorpheusEndz: a pill for no sleep.
MorpheusEndz: just one tab and no peeps
for you will be awake at least all of the day.
It makes all of your sleep worries zzzcurry away!

He said, "Are you all right?"I said, "Well, you did it there, Dad.
"I had just about figured out the solution to the universe. I was laying here, and the thoughts were coalescing, and I was coming to conclusions, and the conclusions were calculating into creating a new certainty for me. It was all coming together.
"But you, just by jostling me over there, you just took my attention away from it,
and now I’ve lost my train of thought, and – whoosh! It’s all whisked away!
"It’s gone. Down the drain. I got none of it left.
"So thanks, Dad," I said, struggling to stand in the smoky garage, "Thanks a lot."
"You sure you’re OK, Jon?"
"I think I just need a snack."
We went into the house and got me a snack. A few snacks.
A lot of snacks
Snacks are good.

Is this why they killed him? When George created "Taxman,"
it was said to be unlike any other recorded music
ever.
"One for you, nineteen for me"
does seem a little extreme.

Today, the highest tax rate in the UK
comes in at forty five percent,
so much lower than before
and perhaps a reason
for Labour to have done the Beatle in
as revenge.

Conspiracy, you say?
Perhaps.
But can you tell me the whereabouts
of the Labour Party
when George contracted oral cancer?

I thought not.