PoemsForGuys

Movies and songs go on and on about love
Little boys get all bashful while girls dream of.
From the very first date we all acted disarming
The guys wanted centerfolds. The girls…Prince Charming.

Then along came reality. With a sting it did teach
We should pull back burnt fingers and nevermore reach.
Till those of us who, till the last act it seems,
Held onto, and never let loose of their dreams.

So throw open your heart! Let new friends and worlds in
As have these new lovers…They have proved you can win!

(c) Jon von Gunten 6.03

Now this here song is apropos
Of where the heck does money go.
Shopowner, charge me more of course
Cause folks you hire crave speed and horse.

I used to see a movie for a dollar,
But now my trip to the popcorn-waller
Costs twenty or more just to get in the door
Then another ten bucks fer Cokes and Ho-Ho's

I know as an employer, sir, you under lotsa pressure
To pay people more so I can really guess you're
Gonna pass the cost along to the dumb-ass consumer
The yuppies, teeny boppers and the hopped-up baby-boomer.

If I sleep on the job and I maybe sorta work
Then nuthin gets done. (What's it to ya, fat jerk!)
So I'm into the shop bright and early on Friday
Tellin' you how tuff it is to live from payday to payday.

So I slip in after dark and take some stuff in the night.
Sell to pally in the alley. Shit, I know it's not right.
Then I'm walkin' to the junkyard and put in my order
Knowin' half of my money goes south o' the border.

But in a way it works out, cuzz that money comes back
When the drug lord pays my cousin for your stolen Cadillac.
So it's a big circle jerk and who are the losers?
All the needle freaks, winos and pothead and boozers!

That money could be buying shoes or food and warm sox.
Maybe put a guy to work in Harlem or the Bronx.
But instead he's out rippin or maybe started tippin
Cuzz at 30 it finally hit him...He ain't NO Scottie Pippen!

Or my homie's got a job and comes in half wacked
He can't do nuthin right and he don't know how to act.
People run from the store and holler for the owner
But you're in back in the skirts of a too-young stoner.

So the guy in the Bronx ain't sewin' no shoes in.
The sewer aint sewin so the hollow needle goes in.
So nothin's on shelves, and people's empty themselves.
Santa done run outta presents, never runs outta elves.

But granny gets her check in the mail, good as credit
Puts the cash in her pillow where she thinks I can't get it.
So I slip to her side for a midnight withdrawal.
Kiss her sweet on the forehead and then say G'night y'all.

See, there's always a way I can be no account.
I can steal from my granny, go beg off my aunt.
You ain't givin' me none. I ain't earnin' my share!
I don't know where money comes from! ... Maybe outta thin air.

©Jon von Gunten. 12 August 2003

The E-mail Husband

I always put the seat down, see? I'm quite the ladies' friend.
I don't drink beer nor hunt nor fish nor bowl nor overspend.
I fix the things around the house with ease and facile speed.
I sometimes cook, I wash and dry, and clean up doggy deeds.

I'm nice to all your beaus of old and all my in-laws, too.
Your girlfriends think I'm super, like your office buddies do.
I do not live upon the couch for football on TV.
My Sundays all belong to you and not to NBC.

I hand you the remote (if asked) when Hallmark movies play.
I make us snacks, and even once brought breakfast on a tray.
I exercise, I bathe, I shave, use Arrid Extra Dry.
I change my clothes, throw out old shorts, and praise the clothes you buy.

I take the trash out, wash your car, and simply will not fight.
It’s like I went to Husband U and studied day and night.
But I didn't have to take a class, I just read those my e-mails...
The ones that shape the perfect man...from oh-so-flawed females.

© 2003 Jon von Gunten