My name is Murmur. I have a Funk.
My Funk is bright purple. My Funk smells like skunk.
And sometimes my Funk can act like a PUNK.

(And I'll have you know now, those days really stunk)

You see, your Funk always knows when you feel sad.
When you lose a job, or when things go BAD.
This is the stuff that makes Funks glad.

But since your Funk follows you when things go all wrong
Maybe you should just invite him along.
Make a new pal, sing a Funky Funk song?
Embrace your Funk, he can sometimes be wise.
He's usually honest even when in disguise.
He might even help you fight monsters round the bend.
By the end you may just have a new Funky Friend!

It's okay to have a Funk. And sometimes you will.
Sometimes your Funk will hoist you over a hill.

Sometimes Funks will help you. And sometimes not.
Sometimes they remind you of the good things you've got.

Sometimes they will take. And sometimes they will give.
And sometimes Funks remind you to just get up and LIVE.

Once upon a time
There was a story never told
A soul that was unknown
A man who grew too old

Privacy was his game
This game he played so well
Secrets aren't of shame
In retrospect they were sometimes swell

Mr Hermet's shell grew too small
Enough to make him crabby
Too many objects to hold
The man looked surly and shaggy

Like a grape in the sun you find
All the years past weren't too kind
The texture soft and wrinkled
This man still undefined

The tears run like waterfalls
Too quick to slow down

Same as the time this man has left
Not enough to make amends
Maybe some to gain respect
If not, go ahead let the end commence
But all in all he did his best

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The point is
To always write
Even if it's nonsense

I knew a man once who could read the trees
He'd stand in a field with nothing on
And look at them for hours
(He couldn't talk to flowers)
But he would pour over every branch
Trace every knot and feel their bark
He translated a sycamore for me once
But oaks and beeches were his favourite
He said he just preferred their type.
The elbow bends told him of seasons
The trunk's tilt told the prevailing winds
Their denseness in relation to their neighbours
Told him all manner of gossipy things.
The colours and the hues told of the soil
The moulds and lichens the local fashions
He'd tell you if they'd ever been frightened
By hippies, chainsaws, axes or lightening.
And as I looked on, I realised something
As I read his naked body with no clothes
This man was obviously a stark raving lunatic.

I have decided now
I will stay alone
in a one bed room apartment
I won't buy any new furniture
except a wooden table
to place my new television set
where I would watch
2 episodes of "The Sopranos"
everyday.

I don't need friends
I knew that long ago
Back when I was a little boy
yet
Boys of my age had forgotten even to bully me
my insipid silence mistaken for my invisibility
girls hardly noticed me
because I pretended to hardly notice them
from my 3 foot by 3 foot wooden bench & chair

Back then, I had my own world
Rather worlds,
worlds where a fictional Mr. Tom Mathews
was a savior of the planet Earth
from numerous planet Earths
floating in the ephemeral universe
all essentially evil
so that Tom had to visit them
& plant nukes within their very cores
as
"the only way out was in"

Now,
I have Megan
or Should I say had.
She lives in this beautiful efficiency
with a giant sized teddy
her idea of someone better than me.
She has a nice flat screen TV
a wonderful bookshelf
a cosy kitchen
and a talking walk in closet
where I could easily live with
her wardrobe , accessories, perfumes.

Her wonderfully brown hair is now tied
in a nice little bun
and she smells of creams and fresh oranges
and she wears formal shirts and coffee colored skirts
when she leaves for work every morning.
I could have lived with Megan
but our worlds never collided
the way they should have
although I distinctly remember
of having brushed in her kitchen
and making chocolate brownies in her oven
or watching her perfect TV
and stealing a book or two from her shelves.

My friend Chris, who will also be my ex roommate
tells me he will move in the same apartment complex
as Megan.
He says he will sign the lease come Monday
and start living in a efficiency just like hers
He says we will keep meeting on Fridays
and come un-announced to each other's apartments
our way of maintaining our beautiful friendship
yet not living under the same roof.
I gather he plans to get married early next year.

As of me,
I am excited to move into this one bedroom apartment
they say I will have a coffee table where I will read all day
and write whenever I want.
I could impoverish as well
because I won't cook food for myself.
I will stay sober
Because I won't buy beer.

I was hoping Megan would visit me
now that I will have a coffee table
so that I can read her my poems
while she sips coffee
and I get inspired by her cream odor
and the teddy bear who looks smiling back at me
with large giant ears
from her t-shirt.

© Nothing Personal. April 21, 2012.