jonberger

Hey.
I’m afraid to say this to you
because you don’t know me
and you don’t know where I’m coming from
and I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual
because I just saw you
heard you
I just experienced you and
I dunno…

Your tight outfit
and loose lyrics
make me uncomfortable.
In a good way
for me
and maybe that’s your aim.
If so: well done.
It was hot.

But
if the attention you wanted to attain
was something more than animal
chemical
biological,
then you might consider
a different plan of attack.

I saw your photo
where you smiled for the camera
and showed us what you got.
I hope you get what you want
from us
and I may ask you how it’s worked out
after I’m done with the picture
and the song
and your sets.

A woman named Donna
wrote a poem called
Don’t Settle for No
about having the will to succeed
and being able to become what you want
and do what you want
and finding pleasure
in doing those things that you want.

And I appreciate the spirit, Donna,
but I wonder
if believing in yourself
works all that well
when there is no running water
or no running legs
and always runny noses.

I wonder if you can visualize your reality
without training
and experience
and realistic expectations.
Kelly once told me that he could fly
but he can’t.

But
what if what Kelly believes he can do
is sleep with the under aged
or the unwilling?
What if non-consent
is what he really wants?

I’m not casting any aspersions
on Kelly
I’m just saying
I didn’t like donna’s poem.

A family named Steinberg
might not care so much about Easter.
A family named Steinberg might not eat ham.
A family named Steinberg is pretty unlikely to not know the shape of a parallelogram.

A family named Steinberg will spend little money
and tell jokes real funny out on the Borscht Belt.
A family named Steinberg won’t clean out the coffers before bartering offers for Chanukah gelt.

A family named Steinberg has better things going
than bonnets a showing on Easter Parade.
No, that kind of cohort would more likely just snort
before signing up to give Israel aid.

I.
When you told your sick dick jokes
in poetic form
at the open mic I happened to be attending
I understood why true art was
and that I had to manage you.
I just spoke to my other clients
and Bono and Sting understand;
they’re gonna have to take a back seat
while I put a plan together
to make sure your poetry is heard
in every household in the world!

II.
When you aggressively commanded my attention
shouting over my quiet conversation
with girlfriends
I realized how much I wanted you
and needed to make you mine.
Forgive me my trespasses
and take me home with you.

III.
Thanks for shaking up the club tonight.
The regulars were a little out out
but
if they don’t see the value
in your art
they should be chastened.
They should be run out.
This club of mine
needs to be more of a salon
and I should be more
of a patron of the arts.
My first movement
in this regard
is to ask
what I can do for you

To the hot girl in low shirt and high heels who talked all through my set:
I wish you hadn’t done that.
I wish you’d hearkened to my words
and my ardent attempts to woo you.

I wish you hadn’t been so insensitive
and paid so little attention
to my heart’s talk.
I think you could have gotten some value
in what I had to say
if you weren’t such a bitch.

Your behavior was unforgivable
but
if you’d like to try
you can find me in the South Bronx.
Wear the heels.

When you got me fired
for gross negligence
and grosser incompetence
I never thanked you.
I was a bad employee
and deserved to be fired, sure.
But I also deserved a better job.
I was not meant to be your office drone
or anyone’s.
I was meant for something different.

Your letting me go
left me the necessary opportunity
to look for something different
something better
something that suited my specific skill set
no matter how narrow that was
at the time.

I should have thanked you
then
for freeing me
from the day to day
and allowing me
to pursue finer pursuits.

I should have thanked you then
but didn’t
which I regretted for some time after.
I am past that particular regret
now
since I’ve become homeless.

I guess
in retrospect
we have different opinions
on the fundamental utility of language.
I presume it is ultimately used
to communicate ideas
from one individual to another
– sometimes of a memetic nature,
but more usually
for more localized transfers of information.

You
on the other hand
seem to want to use language
to obfuscate and lie
like a motherfucking rug.

You use words as a way to propagate deceit
while I strive to maintain honesty
in all things.
God, I want to see things clearly
so damned much.
Objectivity is the way to go
while you
you…

I’m glad
at least
that you want to remain friends.
That is something
I suppose.
It is something
I may have to select
to reject.

You could have told me
when I asked.
You could have let me down hard.
Not cruelly
but simply offered the truth
as you knew it.
You used your words
in a technically accurate way
but still
kept me distant from reality.
The kindness you provided
was a disservice
and I wish you’d offered something else
if not with language
than with some other tool at your disposal
like a kick to the crotch
or a new lock on the door
that I had no key to open.

Anything
would have been better
than how you dealt with us
– literally anything.

  
 Two lovers under the cover
of a secret shawl
so nobody can spy their canoodling
on the subway car
a late night tube
taking them home.

They are proud.
They are private.
The are apart
under their disguise
but anyone who looks
could see what they’re up to.

Nobody looks.
Nobody cares.
The effort they’ve extended
to afford them their separate space
is wasted on all
but one single scribe.

Sigh.

I bought the Fuck You pasta just like you asked
I do what I can to complete every task
you set out for me after I’ve screwed up good
like inviting over all the neighborhood hoods
like I did just last night before you got home.
I never’d have thought that they’d choose to roam
into our kitchen to eat all our noodles
– so here are the new ones. I’m still sorry – oodles.

I can do much better than that.
Trust me
If you give me a chance
I can make you believe
too.

I’ll increase endurance
and diminish weight.
The volume might be harder to revise
but
I’ll give it my best shot.
Speed and strength
I know I can get them under control.

Talk to me.
Tell me what else needs to be updated.
Resilience? Control?
I’m already working on strategies.
What else?
Let me know
and I’ll give it a go.
I’m aching for instruction.
I’m ready to learn.

If you give me the tips
I’ll implement them post haste
and get another iteration out to you
immediately.
What do you say?
What can I do
to increase performance?