jonberger

I wish you’d ended better.
You had such potential
such excitement
in the early days
but as time went on
and you went on
you got tired.
You began to drag.
You just couldn’t hold interest.

I wish you’d performed better
had drawn viewers
that ended up invested enough
and sought your renewal.
It didn’t happen
the way it could have
and you got shut down
– in my opinion –
prematurely.

You could have been so more vibrant
and interesting.
I can’t imagine
how great it might have been
if you’d had within you
another season of two.
Just think
about what stories might have unfolded.

Too late now.
You closed up shop
and all we have left
are memories
of the run you had.
I guess that’ll have to do
but still,
I wish you’d ended better.

Yes
I knew you when
and I encouraged you
to do this thing
that you’ve become so good at
so quickly
and it’s great how accomplished you’ve become
in such a short time.
You’ve done a good thing
and done it well.

I am proud of you.
I am pleased you are doing such good work.
I am amazed how far you’ve come
and what heights you’re now promising to scale.
I am shocked at all the rewards in your reach
and all the astonishing reviews you’ve gotten.

Wonderful work
really.
You’ve become something quite special
something completely unique.

It should’ve been me.

If I wrote
what I was thinking
Rose
I’d get in a heap of trouble.

So I am keeping
a secret repository of poems
that I do not want your boyfriend to see
while he’s out of town.
I could hide them from his feed
but not from friends
who would be quick to rat us out
at the earliest opportunity.
They are bastards
and must be stopped
however possible.

The easiest way of stopping,
Rose,
is to keep my mouth shut
or my pen sheathed
or my printer off
or my browser shut

The poems I write
about we two
will not be published
until we’re willing to go public
and Eric is ready to hear
everything what’s gone on.

We’re not there yet
and Eric’s not back anyway
So nobody needs to know
until we’re ready, Rose.
No one has to read a thing
because I can keep quiet
– and the files untouched –
indefinitely.

Hey,
in retrospect
I’d like to take back what I just said.
I reread your last comments
and
I don’t forgive you
you’re still a jerk
and I don’t know why
I thought you could ever change.

Forget everything I said
after “Fuck you.”
That was the right closing argument.
Consider everything else rescinded,
all right?

Thanks, then.

So get lost.

I don’t know what to do about Sinead.
I worry about her
and want her to be safe.
I want her happy
and comfortable
for the rest of her days
but really
I would rather she funnel
her madness
into something extraordinary.

I want her dangerous.
I want her furious.
I want her to be everything
she has been
and more so.

I wish
Sinead could be both ecstatic
and amazing
but if I had to choose one
I know which way
I’d go.

Please forgive me
Sinead
and make the best choice for you
– and please forgive me, God,
but keep her mad.

You’re probably right.
In and of itself
the positioning of the toiler paper
is not a big deal.
We have larger issues to address between us,
perhaps, but
this, still,
is important.

I know it is your name on the lease
and I’ve only been here a few months
but we all have rights here
don’t we?
At some point
you need to let me have some drawers
and wall hangings
and maybe sometimes
unspool the paper in a way that makes sense
to god and man.

I didn’t mean “man” that way.
I meant humanity
which – yes – does have a “man” in it too
but
can we stay on track here?
If we’re together
if we’re making a go of this
maybe I can shit my way
at least a little?

And maybe
if it’s OK
we can take my underwear out of storage, too?
Just some things to discuss
if you ever schedule
another House Meeting.

They call me a monster
but I’m not the one
that caused civilization to fall.
I dropped no bombs.
I warmed no globals.
and unleashed no beasts.
I attended no hangings
or elected any emperors.
Even afterwards
when it all came down
I did no more than anybody else.
Like us all
I strove to survive. It’s just
I succeeded
far far better than the rest.

I created a home
a haven
a place to thrive
a hive where we could all survive.
I created my ideal secret base
and others flocked to it.
But
it was mine
and I’ve always been fairly strict.
Under my roof
you respect my authority, right?
This is not awful behavior
this is simply fair.

Join me in my land,
and you are safe.
You sleep well
but you eat the foods I want to eat.
And I love me a ham hock.
I just eat ’em all up.
When we run out of pigs, though
what else can we do?
Other creatures have hams, too.

Don’t call me a monster.
I’m no different than anyone else.
It’s just that
I make the rules
and decide what gods we’ll worship this week.

It’s simple supply and demand:
I supply the security
then I get to demand
whatever I want.

Give yourself an impossible task
and see how far you get.
You might succeed
because you never truly know
what you’re capable of
until you try
and sometimes
not even afterwards.

So take a chance.
Pick a goal.
Generate a ridiculous bucket list
and select from it.

Decide
to learn seven new languages a day
or conspire with your fish
to take over a government
– not the US, though
(that would be ridiculous).
Start a new religion
or train a preacher
from memory.
Maybe you can grow
nine inches
this week.
There are lots of opportunities
to create
the incredulable.

Find a way
to improve yourself
and then take it a little too far.
What’s the worst thing that could happen:
You succeed?

Dear Mitch Mitchell and the other guy:
I hope you are well
and not dead
as Wikipedia and Rolling Stone both suggest
and that, mortality notwithstanding,
your chops are up to speed.

I was recently re-listening to some of your work on Are You Experienced?
and wanted to throw my hat in the ring.
We oughtta put the band back together.
Now of course
I was not a member of the Jimi Hendrix Experience
back in the day
– I wasn’t born yet when you dissolved –
but I think
I’m the natural candidate
to bring the group back to its former glories.

I am not a guitar player or singer
per se
but I am
I may demurely suggest
quite a delightful front man.
I write poems that
while not quite as poetic as the lyrics of our friend Jimi
will still serve the band pretty well
this second time around.

I am willing to learn how to play some ukulele.
to fill out our sound
but really
I think the two of you
can keep the fans engaged
while I perform some steamy original poems
of just why that one time
that girl didn’t like me.

I am willing to profit share in this billion dollar idea
with you guys each getting five percent of the net
of all of our shows.
We can cover some of the old songs,
so long as there are spoken word breaks
for me to show my stuff.

Please respond quickly
as I have similar offers out
to the former members of Nirvana, The Jackson Five
and the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra
but keep in mind
you are my first choice
and I would be ecstatic
if you guys were up
for the Experience of a lifetime?

My shoes are stained because of the vomit.
The vomit spattered on them
when I was vomiting last night.
I was vomiting last night
because I was sick last night
after I ate two dinners.

I ate two dinners
because I had a coupon for two meals
about to expire
and I couldn’t think of anyone
with which to dine.
I got the coupon
so I could fine someone which with to dine
which I did
because my therapist thought
it would be a good idea
for me to socialize more
but nobody
wants to socialize
with a guy with stained shoes
– especially when they find the shoes
are stained with vomit splatter.

And now today
my therapist is asking me
why I feel so lonely
after his expert advice
and I just look down at my shoes
and wait for him to do the math.