I Can’T Hear What You’Re Saying …: Poetry, Shorts, and Shenanigans

By MJR

This new collection of poetry and prose by author MJR offers raw and honest insight into the poets thoughts. In a no-holds-barred journey that ranges from the serious and solemn to the unexpected and provocative, the poet exposes personal feelings and emotions through life experiences. From the melancholy Sorrow to the introspective Weep Not, For Me, the pieces in this collection capture the emotions of each unique situation.

I Cant Hear What Youre Saying seeks not only to invoke emotional responses like laughter and tears, but also provoke introspection, that we may find our own patha personal adventure of selfdiscovery.

Evil

Evil is the entity which takes
Without compunction, compassion, nor end
Rarely gives, unless strategically; for their
image
Unconscious of the damage left in its wake;
or uncaring
Caveat emptor, business is business
What about me? self-centered in its
thoughts
It walks through life, a cancer, living upon
others
Devouring what it wants, what it needs, what
it takes
Even when still in use, not theirs, not dead
A mollusk, leaching, draining life from
others
Until they are just too tired to fight, give up
Devoured alive by the relentless selfishness
To take, take, take, resources, energy, love
Pervert it, alter its state
Forever damaging the former host beyond
recognition
Until it ceases to exist, is no more
Before moving to the next
Evil takes

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475950885

MJR

Other books by MJR I am Dianna Coming soon: The Five Stages of Grief

Book preview

I Can’t Hear What You’re Saying…

Poetry, Shorts, and Shenanigans

MJR

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

I Can’t Hear What You’re Saying

Poetry, Shorts,and Shenanigans

Copyright © 2012 by MJR

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-5087-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-5088-5 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-5089-2 (dj)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012917306

iUniverse rev. date: 10/12/2012

Contents

The Journey

Pennies On Your Eyes

Sorrow

The Hero

Heaven

Evil

False Prophets

Once I Was Blind

Laughing With the Crux

Monday

The Weasel

Deal of a Lifetime

Lil-Freak

Weep Not, For Me

Something In the Night

Rain

Remembering Walter

The Lines Upon His Face

R.W.E.

Who Am I?

Two Rooms

The Goddess Within

Lust

If it’s Not Broke…

Killer

Men

McKenzie

A Blemish Upon Humanity

Night Call

Arthritis

Waiting

Right Through Your Fingers

Chain Reaction

For a Moment

How Do I Tell You?

A Most Satisfying Cup

White Gangsters

Shall I Kneel…

Chitter-Chatter

At First Sight

I Never Should Have Jumped

Brother

Wine

Hungering from A-M

Satiated from N-Z

Smile…

Forever

One

Pegasus

Why Am I So Different When I Play

Know Thyself

The King of Goose-shit Valley

Love

Armor

Wall-hangings

How to Bake a Life

How Bad Do You Want It?

Building Anew

Congratulations

Nuts

Respect

The Old Man

Knock-Knock

Anything…

The King’s Land

Realists

Truth

An Evening Class…

Hedonism

Tears

If Only

Philosophy

Sister

The Simple Truth

A Postcard for Bigotry

Prejudice

1%

So Nice

Who Are You kidding?

Rumors

Beware the small man

Small-town Hero

Is It You?

Lambs

Awakening

Samking

The Darkest Road

The Whole of Me

The Genius of Ralph Waldo Emerson

About the Author

The following collection is dedicated to those I love

Have lost, in either body or soul

Ask forgiveness of, have forgiven

Have both taught and learned from

I care enough to prompt you to think, to ask why

To push you, as you have often pushed me

That you might experience, your successes, failures

The wonder of living, a life worthy of your spirit

To follow your own path

And to my mother

I hope I’ve made you proud

F riends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears… so spoke Mark Antony in the play Julius Caesar from the untouchable quill of William Shakespeare.

No, I do not profess to compare to this god of the written word. I merely, and most humbly, follow in his footsteps; desiring to entertain, to paint stories, to prompt you to thought.

Please enjoy the following collection I Can’t Hear What You’re Saying… Poetry, Shorts and Shenanigans with an open mind and in the spirit in which it was written: often playful, occasionally disconcerting, at times maddening, and with any luck—thought provoking, as they are purely the ponderings and opinions of a family member, a fellow member, of the human race.

MJR

My weaknesses…

I wish I could come up with something.

I’d probably have the same pause if you asked me what my strengths are.

Maybe they’re the same thing.

Al Pacino

The Journey

Where are you going, son?

The youngster looked to the stranger with a shrug

I’m traveling to where the monsters are, he answered

His knuckles tightly wrapped, white, around his imaginary weapon

A carefully peeled and colored stick

Wand or sword, it did not matter; he meant to do battle

Where are you going, lad?

The blonde-haired boy, fierce with commitment glared

I go to fight demons. Determination, settled upon his face

His outfit, comical, if he weren’t so severe

The blending of Knight, Indian and Navy Seal

The ultimate warrior against his fantastic foe

Where are you going, young man?

The sullen teen, withdrawn from authority, bowed his head

What’s it to ya? The angry thought. You never keep your promises anyway

His denim armor faded and patched, the uniform of his band of rebels

Fighting for individualism, though ironically the same

The lost guardian against his imaginary antagonist

Where are you going, sir?

The go-getter, rushing towards the next deal

I’m combating Inflation, Communism, Sexism, Darwinism …

Scrambling for purpose; magic briefcase at the ready, shoes pointed and slicked

His suit of fabrics, the best he can afford, to intimidate

All is the enemy, everything a fight; the fear and emptiness grow within

Where are you going, dad?

The tired worker, dead man walking

I have to pay the bills, he drones, shuffling towards the grind

Housecoat over shirt and tie, work boots, safety glasses, a pencil behind his ear

Water in his mouth and nose, always present, constantly threatening

To overwhelm, take his spirit, his fight, drown him in a sea of self-indulgence

Where are you going, old man?

Frightened and lonely, nowhere to go, unwanted

I still want to fight!—they laugh behind my back, think I don’t notice

His knuckles wrapped, white, around his imaginary weapon

A carefully selected cane, filled with memories and wisdom

If they only knew

MJR

Pennies On Your Eyes

I still picture your face, as if you were with me

Comforting my tears, only yesterday it seems

Your hand caressing my cheek; you love me

I can see it in your eyes, Mother—Son

The only way one lost soul can love another

Without love of themselves, respect of self

Your smell fills my senses, threatens to overwhelm

Chanel # 5, floating upon the breeze of a clear day

A good day, your laughter rings, like church bells

Having forsaken you; their hypocrisy stings me to this day

False promises, prejudice against troubled souls

A gentleman’s club; you can come in, but you must fit the jacket

I wish for one last conversation, now, or soon, as an adult

Your eyes twinkling as the sun reflects, beauty upon beauty

What would you say to me, your son? I have made so many mistakes

Been so human in my travels, so base in my wants and addictions

Though I didn’t stay, I didn’t burrow or settle, always pushing myself

Out of the nest, on to the next challenge, journey, addiction, relation

Career, hobby, course, class, book, discomfort…

Always on a bed of needles, to become stronger, overcome

Tax myself, on my way to a better man, a learned man

A disciplined man, a leader of men, self-sufficient—with integrity

Honest—with myself, uncaring of what others think or believe

That is not truth, only you know the truth, the real word

Left unspoken, written on the bathroom mirror

Lest, not you forget who you truly are, when you stop fooling

The others, that you try to impress, to be accepted

That you not stand out, but fit in, for the first time

With your too-short pants, peculiar bike and haircut

So individual, like all the rest, though always outside looking in

Did I do enough, Mom, if I never go back

If I stay the course, fight the beasts one-by-one

Stay true to myself, the gifts I was given; so much expected

No one understands, never have, never will

The lonely path to freedom; will it be enough

To see you smile, to make you proud—when at last we meet

MJR

Sorrow

The dimly lit street in the rundown, mostly abandoned neighborhood had been a hotspot over the years for harvesting souls. Most of the people and all of the cops had left this ugly scar on the city for greener, more productive pastures, long ago.

The hit-and-run, unremarkable in every way, caught his attention for some unknown reason. It was