ALAN BERGER - POEMS

Alan Berger has a few films on Netflix etc that he wrote and directed.
He lives in West Hollywood with the memories of four fine Siamese cats.

 BREEZE

                                  There is a soft breeze coming from a place I use to be
                                  A sweet gust between the two of us
                                  A truce of sorts if you want to call it that
                                  A sort of cease fire still alive with the friendly fire
                                  Now just because we have not lived our union faithfully
                                  It does not mean that we can not grow old gracefully

                                  You are great to make up with though, and after the pounding
                                  After a million knockdown drag out fights, I stopped counting

                                 Just a winning breeze to make you lose sleep

                                  Just a cool breeze sailing over your seas
                                  A battleship and destroyer of emotion to cross your ocean    
                                  An armada of mayhem with an encore of here we go again  
                                  
                                  Even as we rip the seams
                                  A penny for your thoughts
                                  A million for your dreams

                                   I can’t breathe without you
                                   And with you, you take my breath away
                                   Then there is the appeasement 
                                    When we give one another the silent treatments.  

                                    My only regret  

                                    Being of keen mind and body that is sound 
                                    Is the short time we have together
                                    I can certainly go some more rounds
                               


​

THAT IS ALL HE WROTE
​

                                                           Here is a tale 
                                                           That did not end well
                                                            A lot of them do
                                                            A lot of them don’t
                                                            Some are gladly written about
                                                            Some go up in smoke
                                                            It depends on who is reading
                                                            And who it was that wrote

                                                            I am 
                                                            A really nice person
                                                            I don’t like to
                                                            Overstay my stay
                                                            A little dash of me
                                                            Goes a long way
                                                            But don’t get in my way
                                                            I’m driving this big bus
                                                            There is no room
                                                             For the two of us

                                                             You had your chances
                                                              And I had mine
                                                              Add them up
                                                              Then subtract
                                                              Between fiction and fact
                                                              Either way, it will never add up
                                                              Even with the wind at our broken backs

                                                               I looked down
                                                               At my up-bringing 
                                                               Looked down at my town
                                                               I didn’t belong there
                                                               I later discovered
                                                                I didn’t belong anywhere
                                                    \          So I said whatever
                                                                So I said who cares?
                                                                Well. For one, I do
                                                                But you would not know it
                                                                With the way I come thru

                                                                 I learned to 
                                                                 Manage my situations
                                                                 At the helm
                                                                 At the controls
                                                                 I had to navigate my solo moves
                                                                 Without leasing my soul
                                                                  Sing along
                                                                  With the out of tune band
                                                                  All done sincerely 
                                                                  Without tipping my hand

                                                                   It worked out good
                                                                   If only in my minds neighborhood
                
                                                                     Everyone
                                                                    Has a place or two
                                                                    They can go to and grovel 
                                                                    When you open the door
                                                                    And exit your nice warm hovel

                                                               But look both ways as you slide thru your tunnels
                                                                    The way of this world is
                                                                    Every shit finds its shovel

                                    
                                                                  

 YOU
​

                                                                         We all leave behind
                                                                          A body
                                                                          And a body of work
                                                                          With a smile
                                                                          With a smirk
                                                                          Anyways, that life thing was not easy
                                                                          Most of the time I was a jerk
                                                                          Maybe we all find out too late
                                                                  What has already passed that was once our fate
                                                                           That was once our faith

                                                                           Learn to bless somehow
                                                                           The thoughts in your brain
                                                                           When you’re hopping and perking
                                                                           Along with the sane
                                        The thoughts that all the time were either sleeping or lurking                                                                 Deep in your swamps
                                                                            Silently clucking
 
                                                                            So, what if my motor skills
                                                                            Ran out of gas
                                                                            Mind your own business
                                                                            Brainwash your own ass
        
                                                              
                                                                         
                                                                            Ah but the wisdom
                                                                            From experience
                                                                            From our mouths that we blast
                                                                            Of course, without learning  
                                                                            Not a thing from the past 

                                                                            Sit with your brethren
                                                                            Smile as you feast
                                                                            Try to pinpoint the year
                                                                            You became such a beast
                                                                            Whether saint or sinner
                                                                            Only the winner goes to dinner
                                                                             Then suddenly
                                                                             A million teared and feared distance vaults
                                                                             Now comes to a screeching halt

                                                                              You will never really know me
                                                                               But then again you do
                                                                                I must look familiar 
                                                                                 I am you

                                                                                 You can write this all down
                                                                                  On the cuff of your sleeve
                                                                                   It’s all so had to prove
                                                                                   Yet so easy to believe