jonberger

You and me, we share one primary thing:
We don’t like the same movies. I write, you sing.
You dress to the nines, I dress maybe to the fours.
I stay in most hours; you like the out-of-doors.
The meals you make are glorious; Me? I open can.
I’m a beta male at best; you’re grade A WOMAN.
But of the things between us, one think is surely true
for the two of us: we always think of you.

I think of you. I dream of you.
And you do, too. We both love you.

If there is one thing that I think is great
it is someone who holds some things go beyond debate
like an opinionated person who believes
that they are so god-given, they dutifully receive
all of the worship that the world can heap on them.
One who thinks they are a blessing to all men.
Yes, though we disagree on many, on one thing we both hold true:
When we think of beauty or love, we think of you.

I love you, and you love you.
You you you you. We both love you.

A few common words in English bind us
a series of shrugs
and embarrassed laughter.
I talk too fast for her to understand anything.
My witty asides prove senseless.

I want to tell her she’s beautiful.
I want to tell her I’m not like the other boys.
I want to learn her language
but I can’t even ask what language it is.
I don’t get enough for that.

This can go nowhere
unless she’s looking for an anchor baby
but I don’t get that sense
from this lovely lady.
But what can I tell?
Communication is not our strong suit
try as we might.

I want to show her something.
I want to make a statement
and all my stupid words
mean nothing.

You can’t do it, can you? You just can’t say it, right?

It’s only a word.
It’s only a phrase
but it’s just what is stopping delays
in our future to end.
Why can’t you bend?

The four letter word you’re avoiding
is voiding the life we could have.
I could hold in my hand
it is practically here.
Is it fear that compels you,
containing the word that I need
you to say? You know that I pray
every day for the word to be said
and I tread with my dread through some steps
over eggs in the hopes that you’ll stretch out your legs
and become brave enough to just take on the stuff in your head
and just get the lead out and just shout the word to the skies above.

Shout the word to the skies above.
Shout the word to the skies above.
Shout it.
But you can’t say it, can you?
You just can’t do it.
You can’t.

These days I’m considering some changes.
I’m looking into updating my life
and I’m aware these fixes may not be a picnic;
in fact they may well involve a certain amount of strife.
But I’m prepared to do some heavy lifting.
to work on myself each and every day.
But we don’t do it ‘cuz it’s easy; we do it ‘cuz it’s hard.
That’s why I’m here and now prepared to say:

I am ready for a little extra thinking.
It is not especially easy, but I’ll try.
If it’s required, I will cut down on my drinking.
And whatever it is you’re selling, let me check before I buy.

I’ve been looking up my aphorisms daily.
“Look before you leap,” and shit like that.
I’ve been learning so much from these expressions.
After all: “There’s lots of ways to skin a cat.”
But there’s also lots of ways to make some changes.
Change your living, thinking, drinking, plus
I’ve also doing less catting around, know what I mean?
Whoring in town? Doing less of that – pardon the cuss.

I am ready for a little extra thoughtsmanship.
It is not what I’m best at, but I’ll give it a shot.
If it’s required, I will cut down on my drinking.
And if you think it’ll help, maybe I’ll try some pot.

I’ve been thinking for myself most days and evenings.
I’ve been trying out new things mornings and nights.
It’s been causing quite a ruckus in my posse.
I’ve been involved in disagreements – and a couple fights.
But the learning has been steady and sturdy
and the education’s changing my lifestyle.
I’m becoming something wholly different now
I just hope that who I am now’s worthwhile.

I’ve been working on a little extra thinking.
I had been so simple, now I am trying.
I’ve done what I can to change all the ways I am a man
and if it were easy, I’d be lying.

Nobody sees him as he walks across the road. He prefers it that way, you see. He likes to watch. He likes to spy. He likes to keep an eye upon himself. It fills him with great glee.

That’s Mister Nobody, a least discerning chap. He looks into a window and he quickly doffs his cap.
That’s MIster Nobody, a man who likes his fame. At any opportunity he’ll call out his own name.

Take a Thursday, yesterday, last Fall: the Queen asked his attention; he wouldn’t miss that call!
It didn’t matter much to him that she was dead. He just put on last year’s riding pants and carried on instead.

That’s Mister Nobody, a solicitous gent: always wondering curiously just where and when you went.
Mister N – the figure featured in this rhyme. There’s little social distance he wouldn’t care to climb.

If you’re looking for a fellow who will figure in a fete this Mister is the master who would never keep you waiting
that subject you’d be certain of, and if you fancy fun to be featured, favor him. There would be no debating!

MIster Nobody: the best among the clan. Mister Nobody; a modern major myth/take of a man.
Mister Nobody, polished to the letter. Who among us has ever known better?
Mister Nobody. That’s him. He’s slim. He’s femme. He’ll follow you on a whim.
Mister Nobody. He simply can’t be beat as a wondrous wastrel, he will not be defeated!

Where are you? You can tell me.
I understand. No need to keep it quiet now.
You’ve been MIA for a little while.
You’ve kept it secret. I’m not entirely sure how.
But the cat’s out of the bag – metaphorically
’til it changes to a rat transmorphicorically
and I know that you’ve skipped out categorically
and it’s clear that you’ve left me.

I’d been blinded to the truth that you’re not around
I’d just been lying to myself you were just out of town.
You’ve been away for a couple of weeks
and in all that time we didn’t speak at all.
I’ve been blinded to the truth you won’t accept my calls.
(I’m appalled)

It’s OK. I am past the shock and shame.
I’m all right and I’m ready to move on.
So should you. Stop pretending you still live here.
Take your stuff to your new town and get gone.
Things’ll be better for us when the full break is made
now that you can stop pretending with your damn charade
and we can separate completely and the bills be paid.
And I’ll finally be done with you.

I’d been blinded to the truth about just what you are
I knew that you’d been hurting me, just hadn’t felt the scars.
Now that I can see, it has occurred to me
I’d been blinded for so long and now the light has set me free.
(to let it be)

Some fires require no kindling.
Some fires need too much.
Some insist on constant tending.
Some leap out at you, burn at the touch.
Some flames begin accidentally,
some just require a match.
All pyres represent beauty
but there is always a catch.

Someone once said the fire needs a start.
She was ready and willing to do her part.

Some birds dance with no power.
Some birds will peck with their beaks.
Some birds seek sustenance sadly.
Some birds can sing and not speak.
This bird has gone to the beachside.
That bird has certainly flown.
Those birds will stay in your company.
These birds will leave you alone.

Someone once said the bird would fly away.
She came back to sing just yesterday.

Exposed, she looked me up and down, and she said,
“Don’t hurt me. Be kind. Love me right
and I’ll be yours
forevermore.”

I thought that was a lot of pressure.

“Can we start with something simpler,”
I asked, “Like maybe a year in the Bronx?”

She smiled sadly. “How about a night on the town?”

“I could do that,” I said.

We gave it a shot.

Looking up into the starry skies I see far less beauty than in your eyes
or your thighs
or your delicious pies.
Frankly I find more beauty in my lies, lately
than in the skies.

They’ve been awful gray,
is what I’m saying.
There’s no inveigling the celestial lights out again.
The fight’s been lost,
the cost too high
and the sky not worth seeing.
Not with you being so close to me.
Thank you for being so close to me.

This is not one of those lies I spoke of.
This is a truth. This is of love.

It’s entirely up to you.You don’t have to do anything
you don’t want to do.
If you don’t want to make out in the car,
that’s perfectly all right;
we’ll just make out on the stairs
in the bathroom
on the shelf
– I’m not picky.

If you don’t want to be my business partner
– I guess life-sized sea-monkeys aren’t for everyone –
that’s totally fine.
I’ll just use your part of the investment
on this other opportunity
that’s been floating around:
Seals for Satan.
It’s a political party. The ROI isn’t very good,
but we’d be getting in on the ground floor!

We don’t have to discuss these things now, dear.
This can all wait until tomorrow
after the rat cocktails.

Oh, didn’t we discuss that?