Truth is Out There

Honestly
I never thought I was good enough for you:
not smart enough
nor pretty enough
nor with the constitution to handle those marathon fuckfests you seem so capable of.

I wasn’t up to it
– I knew that at the start.
I was incapable of earning your attention
of becoming the one
you richly deserved.

I didn’t think I could do it
or convince you of it.
I just thought you were too drunk
to figure it out
for yourself.

So
how’s sobriety treating you?

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Obvious Implications / Full Stop:

Really? Is this conversation absolutely necessary?
Can’t we just agree on the concept
of irreconcilable differences
and leave it at that?
I don’t mind getting down and dirty about this
but were I you
I’d advise against it.

Of course, it should be clear,
I am not you
and little like you
so if you insist we go down
this long dusty road?
I’ll just let it be.

Things always get weird with us
and that’s probably because
you always end up
doing something weird.
I’m not saying you’re a freak
because I’m hoping
you’re perceptive enough
to pick up
on the obvious implications.
If you can’t see it, though,
then that’s another sign
of what’s gone horribly wrong between us
– when there was an “us” to speak of
at all.

Am I being harsh?
You might think so
but your opinion is worthless to me.
I don’t want to be rude,
but if you’re asking for honesty,
it shall be provided
full stop:
Your thoughts are not respected.
Your experience counts for nothing.
I don’t much have any interest
in what you have to say

but over and over again
you insist on saying words to me,
words about the weather,
thoughts on your preferred entertainment,
your feelings on the political climate
of your home town.
I don’t care about politics
where I currently am,
why in Satan’s name
would I give a shit about
where you come from?

I’m sorry if sometimes I’m mean
but you seem to elicit it.
Like an Alien burst
you bring the asshole out of me.
If there was a way
I could be kinder to you
but still get you to see
what should have been fucking obvious all along
I would have chosen to do so
but nothing else has worked
so here it is:
the truth.

Can we PLEASE
be done now?

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Regarding the Band

I went to see
that and you mentioned
the other day.
They were not very good.
They were, in fact,
really quite
not very good.
If I were to list
the top ten bands
I have seen in the last week
they would not make the list.

If I were to form a list
of the top 100 bands
I’d seen this month
they would not be on that list,
either.

The list they would be on
would be the top ten bands
that made me want to barf my pants
as an excuse to leave the room
and not have to come back.
I suspect I was not alone in that assessment
from the look of their fan base
– and the state of their pants.

I am not saying
that you are wrong
about the quality
of that band you mentioned
or that your taste is bad,
but only because
my mother once told me
to not insult people
who might be able
to write you a college recommendation
and I never got to graduate.

I will say this:
the next band
you choose to recommend to me
is unlikely to see me
at any of their future shows.

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Purple?

Is there a pill
that targets negative thoughts
and isolates them
and erases them
from the skull?
Like a focused lobotomy
or a more specific variant of Eternal Sunshine
of the Spotless Mind?
Is there a way
that movie science
could be applied to my life?

I need to be heroic
so heroic that I don’t even think of it
as heroism
but just as a different way
to cross the street.
I want to be effortlessly brave
and handsome
or at least believe that I’m handsome.
I want to trick myself
into optimism.

Does modern technology
offer any insight into this issue:
with pinpoint lasers
or genetic engineering
or micro-specific alternate reality shifts?

There’s got to be something that helps.
Just give me the pill
that provides happiness
– and make it retroactive
for the last thirty years.

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UB40 – Red Red Whine

You’re old
and weathered
and weakening
as you work bones into nubs
and get numb.
You’re aging
and getting worse.

Now we are forty
and more
and each day ends like the last
with a crawl to the couch
and a search for comfort
in the consumption of commodities.

Eat pie.
Drink wine.
Become one
with the things you’ve bought
and brought home
instead of having experiences
or friends
or anything that could make
this long life
any easier to survive.

You’re getting older
and closer to dying.
Soon enough you’ll be gone.
Take solace in that
and drink more.

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U2 – Elevation

I could tell it was awkward
for him.
He didn’t want to have
this conversation with me.
He wasn’t sure what to think
or whom to believe
so he didn’t even ask
for my side of the story.

He simply told me
that she’d been uncomfortable
with my remarks
and the way I had looked at her
and how frequently I had found myself
within her vicinity.
He didn’t say that she’d reported me.
That much was obvious.

He simply stated the facts
and ducked out
before I could respond.
He’d made it clear
his opinion in the matter
didn’t matter
just that she was displeased
with my behavior
and something had to change.

I was left to my own devices
as to how to do things differently
so from then on
I made sure to hide my stares and leers
so that she wouldn’t notice
and be so uncomfortable.

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U2 – The Playboy Mansion

I’ve been a bad boy for most of my life.
I’ve been rude to most every girlfriend or wife.
I sent sexual texts in all circumstances
and grinded on girls at each plural dances.
The number of stares, glares and leers that were given
to countlessly varied figures of women
on the streets of this city and many another,
to girls who were sisters, or daughters – or mothers?

The times that I’ve drooled over ladies this year
is greater than cakes I have eaten – or beers
I’ve imbibed in the time that I mentioned above.
It’s in no way a part of myself that I love.
I’ve objectified early and often, it’s true.
And I’m part to blame, but others are, too.
It’s society’s fault – and most credit’s due
to that late great and dated pornographer, Hugh.

Look to his magazine to find the fault.
It is at that cathedral to broads I was called to
at an early age where I saw my first nudes.
They were glorious, available, in tri-fold view.
I saw lasses so lovely, so sassy, so free
and I found right away that they were there for me
to look at, and study, and flirt with, and know.
It was the Playboy Mansion that had taught me so.

Of course I’ve been known as an unwoken cur
and it’s not a rare day for some crap sexist slur
to escape from my lips as I wolf whistle foxes
whom I might track home after finding their doxes.
The immoral positions I’ve voiced are quite many.
If there was a chance to be crass? I took any
and all opportunities to say that word
that oppresses with zest. My will would be heard.

But if you feel I’ve done some of your gender harm
and expect an apology, don’t bet the farm.
Since I know that of all of the actions I’ve taken
to commodify women – while perhaps mistaken –
did at no time or place originate from me.
The source of my motives, was Hefner, you see?
It’s his behavior that made me go bad.
If you’re peeved at me; be at him really mad!

It is the Playboy Mansion that you should burn down.
As the King of the Bastards, it’s old Hef holds the crown.
He gave me the means to treat women as meat
from their well-coiffed hair to their well-cobbled feet.
If girlies from me have received a raw deal,
to attack Hugh is suitably prudent, I feel.
If ever the appropriate thing wasn’t said,
don’t rag on me – kick the guy who is dead.

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U2 – Mysterious Ways

She said, "You know,
maybe you shouldn’t pop up
on my block
unannounced.
People might get uncomfortable."

When she said "people,"
she was referring to herself.

I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
I just wanted to see her.
I had thought that she might think it was sweet.
I had hoped that she’d think it was sweet.
She did not.

Nor did she not want to see me anymore
after that.
This was a fact that
it took me a little time
to decode
because I do not always understand
the ways that others behave.

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U2 – October

She was my tutor
and I
was a terror.

I would not listen.
I would not behave.
I would not explain why I,
a perfectly adequate math student,
would avoid the assignments
and instead seek to wrestle
my instructor.

I mean,
I understand.
She was a few years older
and hot
in that unobtainable way
a high school junior is
to an eighth grader
not entirely in charge
of his hormones.
I can explain in retrospect
why I was picking fights
that consistently got physical
with this chesty chick
but at the time
I just knew
the thing I wanted to be learning
was less about algebra
and more about biology.

I ended up
getting into the high school of my choice
but not getting involved
with any girls
for any number of years to come.

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U2 – New Year’s Day

I didn’t want to do it.
I was upset with her.
She’d made me feel small
and jealous and unappreciated
and I also didn’t want to get in trouble
with her parents.

But she quietly crept in
and joined me
and so as not to wake a soul
she sought to comfort me
to take back
some of the things she had said
and did
and though I had previously said no
on more than one occasion
I ended up
saying something else
very different indeed.

I didn’t want to do it.
I wasn’t in the mood
and had so gone on the record
but I was eventually convinced
otherwise.

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