jonberger

According to wiki
you don’t even exist.
According to wiki
there never was a paisley holocaust.
According to wiki
shoulder pads were invented by Jesus.
According to wiki
they need seven million from you
for operating expenses.
According to wiki
today.

According to wiki
George Washington was a peanut carver.
According to wiki
Elvis is dead.
According to wiki
Major Matt Mason USA
hasn’t had an album out for nine years!
According to wiki
I can’t spell "spelt."

According to wiki
information is porous
and editable
and re-retrievable
and can become what we want it to be
in seconds flat.
According to wiki
reality is crowd-sourced.

According to wiki
this can all change
tomorrow.

You were the hot one
in a tight skirt
on the bench
dabbing delicately
into your sundae,
darting tongue carefully
consuming the creamy white.

I was the one
to whom you said
"Get lost, you freaky freak.
Stop following me.
Drop dead, creep."

I was so taken
by the almost-rhyme
as well as the crossing of your leg
atop pointed metal heels.
I can tell
you were thinking of me then.
Are you still now?

If so
please meet me
at the place
you took a swing at me.
I think there remains
some of my blood
on the pavement.
There was
at least
the last three times
I searched for you.

I’ll be waiting.

I guess I dreamed that last poem.
I suppose
the ideas
I thought I put down
in rhythm and rhyme
with the eloquence
the subject demanded
was nothing more than a figment
as was your reaction
when you told me
it was the best I’d ever written
– the best anyone
had ever written
ever.

I suppose it was a lie
my fevered brain
told me
in the middle of the night
and I never wrote any such thing
about a mouse
and a house
in a blouse.

It never happened,
you say.
Maybe it’s true.
Maybe my best work
never really occurred
– until I remember enough
to get it all down!

Bad poet watches. Bad poet waits.
Bad Poet writes
checks
to causes he believes in.
Bad Poet’s checks sometimes bounce.

Bad Poet thinks
Bad Poet considers.
Bad Poet tries to write the great american poem
and then goes for the great armenian poem
and when that fails
attempts the great armenian stanza.
Bad Poet believes in the process
so it’s no big deal
that he has no folio
to speak of.

Bad Poet works.
Bad Poet strives.
Bad Poet thrives under difficult situations
which he creates
since drama will no doubt fuel his art.

Bad Poet is getting better
but worries
that it might mean
he is becoming Worse Poet
when in fact
soon Bad Poet
will be Evil.

Yep.
You’re right
I’m certain of it.
No one
in the history
of this entire plane of existence
has ever suffered
the way you have
and likely
never will.

The things that happened to you
whatever they were,
were no doubt
a level of magnitude above
what all others have known
– perhaps combined.

You’ve had it bad
I can tell
with whatever happened to you
and anyone foolish enough
to compete
or complain about their own experiences
or speak of difficulties at all…
well, I guess they should just shut up now
and forever hold their peace.

What is it
that happened to you,
anyway?
Oh.
Jeez
That IS awful…

Please do not ask me
such silly questions.
I do not have a favorite poem.
They all came from me
and I love all my works equally
except that one.
That one’s a piece of shit.

That one is doggerel.
That one is stupid.
That one has no real rhythm
but it thinks it does.
It thinks it’s clever
that poem
but it isn’t.
Far from it;
it’s retarded.
I’m ashamed to say it
about something that came out of me
but it’s just wacked out jackoff,
parading as philosophy.
Rhyming philosophy
with a high concept.
Fuck that poem!

I try not to play favorites
as I said
and I believe I’ve succeeded
in treating none of my works
as better than the rest
but that poem,
the one in question,
that is just head and shoulders above
in being bad.
It’s the worst.

Do not tell the gorgeous
that they are.
There is no need.
You think those
who have been called beauties
all their lives
need another voice added to the choir?

Speak of their strength
or acumen
or accuracy in archery.
Find something else
that digs a little deeper.
There are other things to appreciate
forms of validation
from yet other avenues.

You should still compliment the gorgeous
but find a way
that complements their attributes.
Tell them
how else they can be treasured.
They’ll appreciate it
unless they lack better features.

He was a control freak
of that there’s little doubt.
His very reign is built
upon that very topic.
He was willing to share the spotlight
but only on his terms.

Was he great because of this impulse
or despite it?
I don’t know
but I want to be as independent
as he.
I want to live free
in my own country
of which I am royalty.

If I could grow up
to be half as in control
as the prince
capable of living without influence
making my own choices
in absolute isolation…

I would do it?

Thank you.
Thank you ever so
for your constructive criticism,
constructed of explosives
poisons and blades.
Thank you for telling me what to think
how to feel
the way to behave.

I appreciate your help
in these sensitive matters
and shall endeavor
to act appropriately
according to your edicts.
It’s good that I know what to do
now that you’ve told me
in no uncertain terms
how wrong I’ve been.

I understand now
how to behave.
I see the ways
to react.
I will be on top of these things
going forward
with the instructions
you’ve so politely provided.

Thanks again
for teaching me
how to suffer
how to hurt
how to experience my pain.
I only hope that someday
I have the chance to return the favor.

You’re doing it wrong.
God knows
I’m not one to judge
but
this game is all about perception
and it’s clear
from my view
that you’re not being perceived correctly.

You’re doing it wrong.
You have the wrong stance
the wrong tone
you’re inflecting inappropriately
and that is probably why
you’re not getting the desired reactions
– from me, anyway.

You’re doing it wrong.
I shouldn’t have to tell you that.
Most people pick this up naturally
sans help from any associates
but it’s obvious
you’re not on top of this
so allow me
to give some free advice:
Talk less
and weep more.
Rend clothes.
Be curt
and dark
and show no joy.

This is how you do it right.
If you practice enough
you will understand
how to truly grieve.