jonberger

It is that point in the night
where you know you have something left to do
but your brain will not focus enough
to tell you what it is.

You keep circling around subjects
fading out on street corners
like heroin is expecting you back for dinner any time now
but you have this last responsibility you have to get to…

If you’d gone to sleep hours ago,
you might be able to wake up
in a few hours time, refreshed, relaxed,
capable of easily recalling whatever it was that needed doing,
but as it stands, the required mission
is tunneling away from you,
funhouse style,
and you still don’t know what it is

You can’t give up
but you can’t do it.
There is no solution
until you suddenly wake up
hours later
cramped in some awkward position,
wondering what happened.

You fell asleep on the couch
on the toilet
standing up
is what happened
and you’re no closer to mission accomplished
than before.

It seems like you’ve already given up for the night.
But the responsibility will be there in the morning.

It always is.

Storm’s coming.
You can feel it in the air.
There’s a heaviness,
a sense of danger.
Looking out the window, you can see a blue sky
but there’s little doubt:
the storm is on its way.

The animals are spooked.
The cats are huddled in the tub
– which you know they hate.
The dogs are whimpering.
They sense it coming,
like they want to dig down deep
and hide til the bad weather’s gone
however long it takes.

You hope the kids are all right.
They’ve both got activities and overnight activities with friends.
They’re no doubt safer where they are.
Better they stay where they are
in case this remains a localized event.
“John?” The wife comes by. “Did you get the chocolates like I asked?”

You jump.
“I’m sorry, Honey! I haven’t been able to -“
“John.” She says, “You know how it is at times like this.
I get tense, and if I don’t get the support I need -“
“You’re absolutely right, Sweetheart. Let me go out right now and get you your chocolates.
Is there anything else I can get for you?”
She sucks her teeth in.
“Maybe some Midol?”
“You got it, Baby.”
She closes her eyes. “Please don’t call me Baby.”
“Of course not, Darling.”
“Or Darling.”
“Right you are!”

You hustle to get out of there before anything else happens.
You don’t want to set anything off unnecessarily.
You might have been able to disengage at this time.
Still, you don’t doubt that the storm is gonna be here tonight, eventually.

You had forgotten the power in rage,
the strength one finds in seething.
An energy builds as you look for a place
to displace it
like an innocent victim.

You had forgotten the power in defiance
in refusal when all that is expected
is abject obedience.

You had forgotten the power of memory
to a time of resistance
when you had choices
and power and rage.
You had forgotten the power in rage.

It is good
to remember.

This form takes three lines.
Structurally like haiku
but ironic, fun:

If I had the means
I’d fly to you right now since
I’m falling for you.

In the center of a maze is a mistress of desire
telling tall tales circling a pyre made of fire
(’cause that’s what they’re always made of, son)
and the tales, they twist and turn and are never done.
This mistress, this maiden, she leads the land in yarn
as she spins fable after legend without any kind of warning.
The stories keep on going. They twist every day.
Lacking reason, rhyme or treason, just the mistress’ say.

She’s changing the fiction,
how it all went down.
Just what it was she’d meant to do
and how red the town
was painted in its aftermath
and the weight of her crown
and she in all her glory,
and how bright her gown.

This is the story of Lady Christie Lee
as told by Christie Lee
to all of thee.
She is the bee’s knees,
as I’m sure you all agree.
I hope you are quite pleased
and will come to the next of these
– as commanded by decree!

She came to power early through great bravery and dare
though there’s clearly little question of the people, how she cared.
Yes, Great Christie was crowned young and came to power soonly
though because of the land’s dangers, it proved quite opportunely.
Christie Lee, according to herself, was quite a warrior.
In fighting the state’s enemies, none could have been more eager.
She took to sword, she took to shield, she took to horse, she took to ride.
She took them down, She took to conquest well with allies by her side.

She handles the legend.
She manages the books.
Christie Lee tells them what happened;
she describes how it looks.
The country’s enraptured
by all her details.
She controls all messaging
by controlling the tales.

This is the saga of Queen Christie Lee
who told it to me
and informed you three
whom I’m sure will agree
to disseminate speedily
by land and by sea
through air and past tree
to everybody!

I came to Billy Joel late in his run,
on his last golden album:
An Innocent Man.
His subsequent albums were successful,
but I think the bloom was off the rose by that point.

I first saw him at Madison Square Garden,
and then saw him later for the The Bridge tour.
I decided to buy tickets to two dates of that block.
That proved to be a mistake.
He said, between songs, “It’s good to be back here,
in New York country. Mets country.”
That got a huge response from the crowd.

It also got a huge response when he said it
the next time I was there.
He repeated material.
I was shocked and dismayed.
Billy Joel had always seemed so sincere in what he was doing.
Repeating his lines made it seem so rehearsed. That was insincere.
I couldn’t think of him the same way.

I still liked the music, but my reverence was no longer the same.
Or maybe I was growing out of Billy Joel love.
Anyway it played out, The Bridge was less impressive than An Innocent Man,
and by the time Storm Front arrived,
I didn’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blew.
My faith was broken.
I was out.

You have got to start shutting up.
You need to take a lesson or eighty in body language,
in human relations,
in cultural sensitivity,
in social interactions in the setting of your birth,
however you want to define it.
Just… learn to behave.

When someone gets quiet
after providing you with private details of a personal
traumatic nature
do not ask if they want to watch a gorecore comedy,
even if it had been discussed earlier in the evening.
It is simply not proper etiquette.

Begin the shutting up.
Quiet down.
No more words tonight.
This is it.

Heartbroken in college, I thought I would do anything.
I thought I had the balls to do the extreme,
but my tongue wrote a check my body wouldn’t cash.
I’m just glad nobody asked me to.

We were working on a movie
and, as college kids are wont to do on a tight schedule,
we were thinking of other projects to take on.

“It’s snowing so hard!”
“We could try a sketch about a naked man
walking in the snow grumbling and mumbling
until someone asks him why he’s naked.
He’ll look down and then say, ‘Women!’
and stalk off!”
“I’ll do it!” I said, “I’ll be the guy.”
Arthur looked at me, “Alright.”
“When do we film?” Paul asked.

We never followed up.
I certainly never asked about it again.
If I’d thought about it at all, I would have asked how I wouldn’t have freezed,
walking naked in the cold.
I would have asked how I wouldn’t have been arrested for whatever obscenity laws
Binghamton, NY would want to cite me for.
I would have asked how many folks would laugh and point at my micro genitalia due to shrinkage.
None of it occurred to me in the first instant, when I volunteered.
Only in the second, after my mouth had gotten the better of me.

I have spoken carelessly many times since then.
Many many times.

Some probably worse than that.

The easy money is found betting on the house.
The house doesn’t lose.
The house sets up the conditions
so they’re gonna be on top. Almost always.
Bet on the house.

Real world situation: bet on the big companies
the successful stocks.
A winning stock is likely to remain winning
(unless you know something specific).
IBM is unlikely to go down anytime soon.

Thing is
I’m not a big fan of the house.
What if I want to bet against them?

What if I want to bet against the establishment?
On revolution?
On anarchy?
How do you invest in that?

Don’t really see a return that way
not a financial one.

Have to think a little harder
for this hard money strategy.
Figure out what the kinks are
before I can work them out…

On this night, we remember the dorks of yesteryear,
The Woody Allens, the Billy Joels, the Princes
who were talented or suave enough
to be loved by the loveliest.

This is not just a matter of power or wealth,
for the women these men matched
were powerful and wealthy women themselves.
There was something else about them,
some charm or magic
that made Ringo attractive to Barbara Bach.

On this night, we treasure these treasures,
that give us hope.
If we hone our talents
and become artists extraordinaire,
perhaps our many other faults can be forgotten
and we can be appreciated and adored.

On this night, we can dream of love
and hope for the future.