jonberger

I don’t want to see you tonight
even though I really want to see you
because passions is high
like the temperature
and I’m afraid
of what I may do
under such tempestuous conditions.

Control
around you has been hard for me
because you are so firm,
so in place.
You have an easy resolve
while I am a balloon in a storm,
pushed wildly by the emotions
you give rise to.
It takes so little
for you to blow me away.

I am not prepared for you now,
not at all.
I’ve been freaking out a lot lately
and I don’t know
what I will become
after another taste
of whatever you choose to serve.

The fact that I yearn to see you
is probably the single best reason
to avoid you.
I will have to restrict myself
and stay separate
as long as these desires
maintain their pull.

Compartments can keep me safe
so I’ll remain cloistered away
enchanted in other activities
until the strength of this passion diminishes.
It can’t be long now.
How much longer
must I wait
to get over you?

I know how you look at me:
tired with pain
and I feel pretty sure
we won’t do this again.
Still, I will wish you well
and hope that you live
receiving all treasures
the world has to give.

But when I look your way,
I strongly recall
our moments at first
when you offered all
of your tenderest lyrics
and kindest remarks
and I, with a sigh,
back in time can embark

and think of the ways
that we used to be;
how you’d look at me
so affectionately
and stare at me deeply,
so musically.
It wasn’t so far back
that you’d sing for me.

You sang to me secretly,
no one around.
You ensured not a witness
would hear any sound.
Though our days may be over
as all things must end,
I’ll remember quite fondly
each song you’d attend.

We didn’t kiss often
or barely at all
and perhaps afterwards
I’d be too lax to call
but still there was something
with roots between us:
a thing I can’t name
but a thing you can trust.

I think you still like me
despite what you think
and I know that we’ve both now
had too much to drink
but I suspect that you might have
a space left for we
even if that’s not
quite what you see.

But your oaths are respected
and so we are through
though I’ve got a thousand
more yearnings for you.
Among them, for one,
is to let my love be.
For another, admit
that you sang for me.

You sang so softly.
I knew it was real.
Your sweet melody told me
all that you feel
and though I’ve not heard it
in ever so long
in my heart, I can still hear
that beautiful song.

Our paths must diverge
as you so clearly wish
but I hope you’ll forgive
as I still seek to fish
for an ember still left
from the previous fire,
back when I acquired
your desired pyre.

Sure, the flames that I’d felt
have long since been quenched
but perhaps there’s still heat
from your heart I can wrench.
For dumber things happened
in less dire times
when a mariners’ albatross
got shot in old rhymes.

Perhaps there’s a chance
you can yet find a note
to escape from your glorious
black chokered throat?
Is there any way left
that I could appeal
so you’d sing to me sweetly
with yesterday’s zeal?

In silence you sang to me
absent a crowd
alone in the cold
and not at all loud.
While I’ll miss you entirely,
I most wish to extend
your soft-spoken voice
in a song without end.

Thank you for being civil.
Thanks for not making a scene.
Thank you for going out of your way
to spare my feelings
thus limiting the humiliation.
Thanks for being nicer
than you needed to be
or even wanted to be, maybe.

I appreciate how quick
and relatively painless the experience proved
and wanted to say
that if I’m ever seeking
that sort of an education again
I’ll be sure to remember this
and continue to respect
what you did to me today.

So thanks again
and goodbye.

When the choice was made and the left got beat, I thought we’d have to wait a while
but in the weeks that followed, people hollered and the administration faced trials.
I grew up, stood up, defending my rights, while shouting down all of their wrongs
I walked in the marches against those with torches, singing my sixties songs.

I expressed my opinions and gave peace a chance
but it started to seem like the same song and dance
as I held up my placards and said Love Trumps Hate
but now I’m on the inside waiting for my court date
on the chance I’ll be set free.

They came for me. For me!
They came for me, and no one else thought it an emergency.
They came for me. For me!
They came for me, but the rest experienced no urgency
despite the chair’s electricity
or the needle’s intensity.

Well, they threatened the Muslims and the Mexicans and spoke ill of all the ladies
but I assumed all the “Make ‘Merica Great” rhetoric was just borrowed from the nineteen eighties.
Now I’ve been stuck in some full prison for some long time, it seems it’s like ringing a bell
as I’ve watched the mainstream media tell me how the nation’s gone to hell.

Well I fought and I strode so this day’d be forbode:
a future like nineteen eighty four.
But now that it’s here, it’s distressingly clear
I’m a prisoner of this war.
And what were THEY fighting for?

They fought for me. With me!
Then they caught me. I’m imprisoned but not charged formally.
They came at me. At me!
Took my liberty, for disturbing the peace, reportedly.
Though we all agreed, absolutely
– at the very least, intellectually.

First they closed up the borders for safety and so our people could get all the jobs
which nobody took, so businesses booked some employment for our prison mobs.
I’ll be picking that cotton or fruit soon left rotten while serving out my time.

When was fighting for justice and speaking out truth in this country considered a crime?
Once I shouted my words so loud, still unheard
by those who were making decisions.
I got taken away with so much left to say
because of this empire’s divisions
– in the name of security!

They came for me. For me!
They came for me due to political divergency.
They came for me. For me!
They came for me as a member of the counterinsurgency.
I’ll be moved when they sign Form E.
Then await all our destiny…

Look you know I love you
and I’ve got your back
and you can have me in the divorce
or whatever but,
all that in mind,
you could have been less of a dick.
I mean,
I can see her side
and if she takes you
for everything you’ve got,
well, you kind of deserve it
for being such an asshole.

You sniped at everything she had to say.
You acted like
if you left any statement of hers uncorrected
the sun could melt
and you fought tooth and nail
on every possible front
with Churchill ferocity.
You had a choice between being right
and happy
and, well, I just hope
you’re happy now.

I know you thought
she was out of your league
but what made you think
you could fix that
by constantly sleeping around?
Did any of the many others
ever satisfy like she did?
Was it worth it
in the short run,
let alone the long?

Again, it doesn’t matter what you did:
I’m with you.
I’m for you forever
but you were wrong.
She improved you
and losing her
is the worst thing that’s happened to you
since Mrs. Forgatti’s ninth grade Spanish final.
You boned it
but we’ll get through it, I’m sure,
eventually.

The Guam Touristry Board would like you to know
that everything’s fine.
There is nothing to worry about.
If you just look away for a moment,
everything will soon be back to normal.

The Architectural Association of Guam
would like to inform you
that most of the buildings here
have been made from the strongest materials
with the strictest standards in mind
and there is little risk or threat
of anything bad happening here
ever.

The Guamite Hoarders Group, Southeast Division
is proud to report total readiness
and complete efficiency
in their canned goods drive
with enough product collected
to get the plucky nation through
a particular long winter
after an especially hot summer.

The Guamian Scouting League
has begun to track cloud formations
spending particular effort
in identifying mushroom and missile shapes.
Their work may somehow prove useful.

Northeast Guam Hospital has all the bedpans you can stand.
Guamish Radiology’s got a new ticketing system
that’ll knock you out.
Guam’s Moms have begun to barcode their children
for any accidents to come
and the Governor of Guam
is pleased to announce
that the island is safe and sound
for now.

In an awful way
I hope that it’s true
and the worst in fact occurred
and this isn’t just another
accidental game of telephone.

I hope that someone
is not playing with our hearts
and heads again
but then it is not the first time
I’ve suspected this.
I could not believe
that the Prince had passed
just last year.
It seemed too unbelievable

and this
is another occurrence
that makes no sense.
I have my doubts
and I would like
some kind of verification
to still my inner screams
of "fake news!"
but I believe
I would prefer that it be real
and not that we were all fooled again.

So I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that I have hopes
that the worst has happened
to you
so that my own anxiety can be assuaged
about what’s true.
Though it’s the last
I want to do
I hope
despite myself
that you’re through.

Sometimes I lie.
Sometimes I wring my words out
to find newer
more practical meanings.
Sometimes I practically deceive,
I detract,
I deteriorate concepts,
alter them around my choices
and then define everything else
in entirely new ways.

Sometimes, accidentally,
I bend my reality,
suiting necessity,
and come up with alternate ideas
as to what happened
– or could have happened –
that might serve us all better
(and by “us,” I mean me).

Sometimes fantasy
proves realer than fact
and the legend should be printed
because it makes me look
so damned good.

Sometimes I lie
like now.

I thought I knew what love was.
I thought I understood what it was
to share
to be with someone
to care
to love and be loved.
I thought I comprehended these basic things
but when I see
the relationship we built
and what I did to you
for so long
I am aghast.
I am ashamed.
I am repentant.

I thought I loved you
but I realize
what a shitty brand of the stuff
I provided.
The ways I berated you
the ways I behaved…
You deserved none of it.
I’m so sorry.

I gave you everything I had to give.
I didn’t realize
how awful that was.
I didn’t see
how the best intentions
could yield such atrocious results.

I should have been better
and you should have left me sooner
and I should be imprisoned
for how I acted
and I guess
in a sense
I am.

I should never have touched you that way.

Someday
I will bend before you
just as I insisted you do
so often.
Someday
I will become good enough
to be worthy of real love.
Someday
I will learn to be the man
who deserves to apologize before you.

I hope you fail more.
I hope your failures grow
your incompetence proves obvious.
I hope that the erroneous information
you often expound upon
increases incrementally
until escalating into excruciating areas.

I hope your mistakes are big
and frequent and embarrassing
and you never get used to them
but you experience them frequently enough
to survive them
and revise and improve until
you are past those errors
and onto new mistakes
that you will then eventually overcome
for a good long time.

I hope you fail
until you don’t.