jonberger

David, when you tried to convince me
of your psychic powers
back in high school
I tried not to be flippant
but I didn’t try too hard.

I just couldn’t believe it
back then
when you described
all the energy fields around us
and suggested I close my eyes
to feel your soul sword,
I just it assumed
it was some kind of freaky come-on.

But
though I couldn’t admit it
I did think I felt something hot
when you asked me to put out my hand
and use all of my senses.
It was strange.
It was foreign.
It was an experience like nothing I’d felt before
but I didn’t want to have to deal
with absurdly imaginatory magical powers
so I snarked it off.

I wasn’t brave enough
to face your reality
and in the month to come
found my distance from you.
After what I did
about your girlfriend,
I’m sure that didn’t devastate you
even a little.

The man you’ve become
(so far as I know)
is neither a sorcerer nor psychic
so it’s probably not a big deal
that I didn’t express belief in you
but I should have been a better friend
and should have let you
give me a bit more
of your strange soul sword.

The sun shines vengeance
on my sorry sticky face.
Sleep fades,
replaced by confusion.
Glancing, I see
this is not my terrible home.
Where am I?

Last night is but a blur,
a series of unfortunate events,
as best I can imagine.
Whose bed have I slept in?
In whose wet spot am I resting?
Please let it be mine.

I don’t know what happened last night
but I’m beginning to suspect
that I accidentally fucked again.
I’ve been trying to cut down
but other things I’m trying to cut down on
have prevented me
from sleeping with less strangers
and I continue to accidentally fuck.

What
filthy things have I done?
Why
does this keep happening to me?
When
will it all stop?
Were
there any pictures taken?
Can
I have copies?
May I?

I will discover my partner in grime
as soon as I ready myself
to stand
and face this new day.

An overcast morn for an overcast soul.
I don’t know how I’ll get out of this hole.
Million thoughts in my head. A thousand words to say;
my dad was born today.

More than four score have passed since then.
In fact, had passed a lifetime, when
after a trip to his best friend,
my father’s heart had reached its end.

That event occurred last Fall.
I’m sad no Dad now takes my calls
and mad I lost my father dear,
but at least I had him forty years.

The single lesson
that I have always been too shy
to share with the world,
the unique advice that everyone, everywhere,
should always heed
is merely this:
Under all circumstances
maintain the appearance of modesty.
It is the very most important thing.

If they learn of your worth,
they will be jealous
but if they learn of your self-worth,
they will tear you down,
criticize, denigrate and destabilize
whatever they can uncover
about you.

It is safer
it is wiser
it is healthier
to avoid letting people think
that you think
you are any good in any way.
Avoid that impression.
Never let them know
you have faith in yourself.

Nothing must stop you
from going for what you want
but do not give any being
alive or dead
a reason to believe
that you believe you can do it.

The appearance of modesty
the impression of insecurity
the sense of internal disquiet
must be maintained
at all costs
– at least
until you are ready to strike.

I don’t say this very often
– hell, I don’t even think it very often –
but I’m glad you’re not dead.
I am
at this very moment
exceedingly pleased
you’re not six feet under
or scattered ashes in the wind
or being served
to cannibals in Wyoming.

I appreciate you breathing
and digesting
and pumping blood
in my regular vicinity
while shedding skin cells
and growing nails
with such regularity and aplomb.
You do good works
while alive.
It’s enjoyed.

Thank you
for sticking around
as long as you have
and keeping it up
as long as you are able.

Hey, Jon.
Young Jon,
Jon from three decades back.
This is Big Jon
from the future
reaching out to tell you
just a few things.

She would’ve kissed you.
You could’ve made the effort.
There was no reason to be so scared
or worried or anxious
when, even if she didn’t kiss you
it wouldn’t have been so bad.
Your life would’ve gone on
in the regular, anyway.
But she would have.
I can tell you that one for free.

I wish you submitted more.
Had you let the world know
you wanted to be a creative,
that you had things you wanted to say
to write or sing,
had you only tried,
the world could have made room for you.
You could’ve been known.
If you applied yourself in high school,
it might have felt like a drop in a lake,
but imagine the ripples.
I wish you hadn’t waited
until so very late.

You are capable of so much more
than you think you are.
Trust me:
the sooner you try
the sooner you’ll see
how often you can succeed.

Fucking with authority
like you like do
becomes habitual
and it really really hurts.
It gets you smacked down
rapid fire with incredible frequency
and if you do it too often
you’ll find yourself in fights
you don’t even believe in.

Don’t sleep on Mr. Mister.
They really are an excellent band
and their comeback
when it arrives
is gonna be amazing!

Also: invest in bomb shelter commodities.
Can’t explain just yet.
OK, gotta go.
Bye!

Who’s a bad writer?
Who’s a talentless little hack?
Who got lucky
in his first few submissions in high school
and coasted on luck
and a curious form of charm
ever since?
Who’s a pretty little fraud?
You are!
Oh, yes; YOU are!

I don’t think
that I’ve ever seen a useless nobody
as pointless as you
in all my life, have I?
You’re so good at being crap
it’s amazing.
You’re the best at WOAT,
aren’t you?
Ooh, boogie widdle woompums.
Yes!

I could just eat you up
and vomit you out
right after.
Good for you.
GOOD
FOR
YOU!

Hold up.
I am not the man
you think I am
a man who gives a damn
about those things of which
you so clearly are a fan.

I don’t have the same faith
in the same institutions
that you do.
I do not look
for other’s elocution
to understand events.

I don’t believe in People.
I don’t believe in Us.
I have no faith in Life
nor Time
or the USA – Today or any other day.
I cannot stand News,
either Daily or World-Weekly,
be it Posted by Tribune
Bulletin, Gazette or Telegraph.

I’m not that type of guy.
I can’t take what they have to give
and give and give and give
and give!
Our twenty six hour cycle of reportage
is too much
– by, like,
twenty nine hours.

Information at that rate
and that quality
is just too much
(of too little).
I don’t respect your gods
and what they disseminate.

Read what you like.
Believe what you want.
Make decisions upon whatever information you desire
and I’ll do the same.
But understand this simple fact:
I get the data I demand
from my one single source
of required reading.
The only news that’s fit to read
comes from the Billy Bragg Bulletin Board.

It’s Friday the Thirteenth
after midnight
and surgery is hours away
and I am having trouble sleeping
but I can’t take anything
because of the upcoming anesthesia.
I would love to drink something
but they say
I can’t put any substances in my system
for twelve hours
before the incisions begin.

The night is quiet
as quiet as it gets here
but it is bright out
and the creaks
the ticks
the drips
and distant cars
echo in ears
that seem far too attentive
at this fucking hour.

This fucking hour will soon be gone
but right now
it is late
and I can’t sleep
while that bright full moon
stares down at me
reminding how the approaching appointment
is scheduled today
which, as mentioned above,
happens to be Friday the Thirteenth.

OK, look out.
Fight me at your peril.
Argue against my wisdom
at your very own risk.
I’ve got nine days on you
and I’ve packed a lot into them.

Yeah.
I was born on the thirtieth
and you, nine whole days later.
I’ve got all that experience
to back up my righteous rancor.
I’ve got knowledge and cunning
that can only have been accrued
in the extra time of my existence.
I’ve got you beat
nine ways to Sunday
(though technically,
only two Sundays occurred
between our births.
Onward)!

What’s more
my December birth
makes me a year older
and, coincidentally,
a decade older
and, as you full know,
both a century and a millennium
separate our ages.
It’s rough, yo,
but you lost
even before you were born.

Accept the word
of one who knows
and, of course,
respect your elders.