jonberger

Apologies to the necrophiles
and the philanderers
and the eugenicists
and the pedarasts
and the amputee-rapists
and all the other special interest groups groups
who have no doubt been offended
by the mainstream media
and their ridiculous specialist agendas.

How long must we let the people
who show us things
provide us information
on what we see?
When will we ever wise up
to the fact
that the only people we can ever trust
are those suspected
of heinous acts of malice by others?

Only the ones called awful
can truly rise
to be just.
So god bless
the child-killers
and the CEOs
and Congress.
Let only the accused be safe
to tell us the truth.

You missed the show.
You missed the last three shows
all of which you swore you would catch.
You missed the last three shows
and talked through the two before that.
You missed the last three shows
talked through the two before
and fought with the door guy right before that one.

You missed the last three shows
talked through two
fought with the door guy
all after you quit the band
saying you wished a pox on us all.

Mixed messages, dude.
Thinking of taking you
off the guest list
on the next one.

I never got a chance
to speak to you
about your dog’s death.

I’m sorry your dog’s dead.

I imagine you two were close
what with you owning him
sheltering him
walking him
washing him
getting him dewormed as necessary…
I’m sure all those investments
feel like a waste
right about now.
Must be rough.

But, hey!
You’ve got your apartment back,
right?
There’s freedom
and cleanliness
and so much less hair
all up in everything.
That’s gotta be worth something
– regardless of the emotional devastation
and whatnot.

But still.
Gotta hurt.
So: sorry.

What?
Not dog.
Dad?
Oof.

I stand by my statements.

When singing songs about Hitler
be as neutral as can be.
It is not appropriate to seem especially supportive
or even particularly awful about the guy.
It’s kind of cliche
to be all that critical at this point.
Basically avoid extremes on any side.
On any side.

When singing songs about Hitler
avoid name dropping.
Hitler’s a pretty easy punchline
a pretty thick brick to drop.
A subtle reference might serve you better
than anything overt.
Be oblique.
Let the audience do the work.

Make less effort with your Hitlers.
Let the information you present
do the heavy lifting.
Let Hitler do the work for you
and let your listeners decide
what they want to get
out of your Hitler songs.
It’s how it’ll work out anyway.

When singing songs about Hitler
when approaching dark topics
delving into the controversy
digging into such coffins,
be prepared for negative responses
but if you plow through
whatever the risk
just imagine all the potential reward
you have to reap.

I understand.
She’s the meow’s pajamas
the latest love of your life
everything you ever wanted
and the pinned beneath your swing.
I get it,
I think.
She’s special, but
is she salad special?

Sure, you can go out with her
and order her a salad
at a restaurant
or go to the deli
and make your own build-a-beasts
for $6.99
or after hours, maybe,
at $4.89.
But at home
just the two of you
with all of the ingredients,
are you synced enough
to make an excellent salad for two?
What have you experienced?

Has she tasted
your grandpa’s shrimp salad
with the secret mayo replacement?
Have you two gone that far?
Have you shared the recipe?

She…
She doesn’t eat shellfish?
Are you sure, then,
this is really the woman for you?

Excuse me.
I heard a sneeze
so I said “God bless you”
to the ether
so whomsoever risked the devil entering in
had a chance at salvation
and it was very polite of you
to say “Thank you,”
but
you didn’t sneeze.

I saw.
I was watching.
I had eyes on you
when the sneeze occurred
– I know not where –
but you I saw, as I said,
and this I swear:
nothing came out.

You, stranger,
are a serial non-sneezer
and will receive no blessing
for no action committed.
You’ll get nothing from me, today!

Well, no,
there were no strings on my statement
no commitment connected to my blessing
offered to the air
but
that hardly seems kosher, does it?
You can’t just take my words away from me
like that, can you?

Give me back my “Bless you”
dammit!

When you’re feeling strangely monstrous,
like you’re only suited for shadows
or a hermitage
where no one need know
any of your darkened deeds,
when you can feel your sins
just blistering skin
scraping off horrible parts of you
dragging down cobblestones
while you wait to be captured by villagers
once their suspicions prove strong enough for action…
when the feelings whelm and whelm again,
go take a walk.

Enjoy the day.
Look at the beautiful puffy clouds
and absorb some delicious vitamin D.
Stride the streets with pride
smiling at strangers
– who cares if your grin is crooked and cracked
with teeth the size of gravestones?
Let the sunshine in
to every single possible pore.
Go naked
for the best absorption.
Let everyone see the entirety
of your monstrosity.

And if you’re as bad as you say,
if the world’s as set against you
as you believe
and they take you away
as you were always destined to go,
at least you had a final afternoon in the sun.
Every hideous beast deserves
at least that, eh?

The white bicycle
representing his demise
where the flowers used to mysteriously appear
has itself
mysteriously disappeared.

The evidence of Bobby’s passing
is past tense.
His death bike has gone missing,
is what I’m saying.

I would like to think
that with the icon
of his internment
apparently extinct,
it might mean that we could see Bobby himself
coming down the road
any day now.

I’m not getting hopes up
but I will keep
one leery eye open
just in case
Bobby opts to pedal by.

Guru for a fixer upper
with no real potential.
Mentor to take over life.
and fashion into something worth living.
Organizer to reorganize what went wrong
into something resembling a semblance of normality.

A helpmate to resolve all of life’s
little imbroglios.
Dietician/website manager/mouser.
Lead singer + Songwriter + Producer + Drummer
+ Guitarist + Bass Player + Keyboardist
+ Triangle Player + Roadie
+ Management. I’ve got the name
(negotiable).
Retroactive Abortionist.

Editor and Advisor and Collaborator and Muse.
Maid/soulmate to make restitution
for catastrophic errors in all aspects
of current existence.
Help.
Help.
Help.

It’s not normal what you’re going through
but it’s all right.
It’s not healthy how you’re suffering
but you’ll survive it.

It’s not good what you’re feeling
– not at all –
but afterwards
you’ll feel some Nietzschean relief,
I hope.

At the end of the tunnel
after you’ve seen the light
and found yourself brightened by the blaze
you’ll be renewed
and improved
and maybe even reconstrued
into better version of yourself
like I’m working to improve the language
with better word choices.

So today may suck
and tomorrow as well
but what you get out of these bad days
will be better days
or the other thing, I guess.
But after that?
Better days still!