PEANUTS OF THE PAST:
PREVIOUS COMMENTS FROM THE PEANUT GALLERY!

Today's poem comes courtesy of moni (Monica Blache), who says: "This was written from the voices/souls of several different women (with a touch of moni to spice things up). I'm curious to find out what our critics will think and if the reader will figure out how EASE met his untimely demise. HAHAHA!!!"

This week's poem: EASE
Author: moni (Monica Blache)
Copyright Monica Blache, 1998

EASE

He always deceived with ease. He eased into
his lies like a comfortable pair of slippers.
His breath never choked as the words rolled out.

His canvas -- a woman's soul. His intent was to
make his victim swallow his deception with ease.

Everything about him was tailored, tasteful, orderly
and never excessive. His timing was effortless, cool,
calm and collected.

His aim was usually to please. He never coerced his
prey into feeling weak. He simply eased you into
believing he was doing you a favor by just being with you.

He used only essential words to make you believe he was
interested, and left just enough vagueness to question
your own sanity. Did he answer the question? Maybe.
Did he say he'd call? Probably. Did he say he was
coming over? We'll see.

He wanted nothing, and gave just that -- nothing.
But somehow he convinced you he wanted more, simply
by listening to your needs, or simply by nodding
timely, or responding with I know what you mean,
when you took a breath.

He was skillful not to share any part of himself.
His past, fears and dreams, were all locked within
this mosaic of a man.

As you may have already figured out, I was one of
those unfortunate ones, a canvas, a victim, a silent
believer in what was never there. A hoper of things
he never shared. A pretender that he somehow cared.

You see, my self-worth was not based on how a man
saw me in his eyes. I was educated, independent,
and comfortable in my own skin.

I didn't need, or for that matter, want a commitment.
I was content with the little things. A call whenever,
dinner wherever or a trip no matter when.

I was sociable when the occasion called for it.
Being a loner was a choice, not a sentence handed
down by some man that I wasn't worthy of being loved.
I just hadn't found Mr. Tolerable yet.

But it was at the end of the tenth year I wanted more.
More than a call whenever, dinner wherever or a trip no
matter when.

And, it was during a casual conversation with my father
about my semi-reclusive lifestyle, I began to reflect on
the ten years of nothing shared.

The simplicity of my father's comment that I was "Every
married woman's nightmare," hit me like a ton of bricks.

And as I stood outside myself and watched stupidity
unfold, "Every married woman's nightmare," rang in
my ears and I swallowed my pride.

I'd never taken the time to ask all the obligatory
questions or listen closely to the answers. His
hypnotic voice and smooth mannerisms tricked my
senses into believing whatever his answers were,
were right.

And I rarely remembered hearing the sound of my name,
Cassandra, cross his lips. It was always Honey,
Darling, Sweetheart, when he phoned between 9 a.m.
and 5 p.m., or Baby between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m.

His intentions were honorable, or so I thought.
But actions do speak louder than words, and his
actions were loud and clear.

"Every married woman's nightmare," was swirling in
the pit of my stomach, and heartache was just about
to scratch the surface of my sanity.

I'd never harbored any harm to anyone before.
But all that changed when I followed him home
in that 11th year and one day.

Dragging a child's bike, he eased out of his
two-car garage. He kissed his lovely wife,
who seemed as naive as me.

Later that night, he eased himself up from my bed,
smiled, and said he'd call. I said, "Would you
like a drink before you leave?" "Yes, Baby please,"
he replied with ease.

I watched him sip his drink as he dressed to leave.
He never knew what hit him. "Honey, Baby, Sweethea---,"
he gasped as he looked at me with that ohhh sooo
pathetic, panicked look.

"So, how does it taste, Mr. Ease?"

The day this soulless ghost was laid to rest was
the only time I went there. I stood out of sight
behind a willow tree to feel the breeze.

I saw no headstone for a man who lived his life
with such ease. And as I left, I'm sorry to say,
I was quite pleased.

I never thought of him until I received a note from
Mrs. Ease, on the one-year anniversary of his sudden
passing. I was stunned to receive this note, because
I wondered how she knew about me.

Her note was instructions to his gravesite.

Four other women were there at the dearly
departed's eternal home. And it was safe to
assume they were also canvases, victims, and
silent believers in what was never theirs.

His headstone was draped with an oversized picture
of him he had apparently given to all of us. The
one with the confident smile, innocent eyes, and
premeditated heart.

And as we stood there silently paying homage to
our pain, Mrs. Ease pulled back the drape and
read the headstone with ease.

That's What You Get For Being A Tease

moni

Here were some of the comments received from the Peanut Gallery:

Submitted by: /bams Commentary: "EASE" was one of the first pieces that Moni shared with me Way Back When,and it afforded me a taste of her writing style that keeps me coming back for more. While a bit longer than I am accustom to seeing in a poem, it definitely holds the readers' attention. Reminiscent of Erykah Badu's "Tyrone", you find yourself feeling first Mrs. Ease's pain, then her growing strength, and waiting for the shoe of Mr. Ease to drop--right on his pointy head. Technically speaking, I think this piece stretches the limits of poetry--more a poetic short story, perhaps?--but if anyone can make it work, monilove can. I could write more, but it's 2am and a few other folks want their say...other Peanut Gallery Comments:

Submitted by: Shaun Cecil
Comment: Nice, very nice. It is always fun to see a mind take a issue, and have "fun" with it. I love the ending, and I love the whole twist.

Submitted by: Shenita Vanish
Comment: Moni, I read your poem EASE. That was really nice. You "walked" me right through the whole story. I saw the whole scene in my mind, line by line. That was a really sweet piece... Incredibly interesting story.

Submitted by: Pat Thomas
Comment: Hi, just wanted to say that what Moni related in her poem, Ease, is exactly what a LOT of women have been through. I, myself, have suffered through some of theexperiences in her poem. She relates so well thefrustration, the sense of wondering what is real, the pain, and the anger of a relationship based on lies. It is a wonderful poem, and one that truly stirred my emotions! Thank you, Moni!

Submitted by: Chris Hare
Comment: "Ease" was definitely a thought provoking leap into the rational thinking of a woman scorned. The poem was exquisitely done. A somewhat down played reaction of what a woman would like to do and at the same time an over reaction from some others. Mr. Ease deserved what he got. He doesn't think too much of women or their intelligence. Playing with one's heart is a game played by both sexes. To the extent of their sincerity determines the damage. Unfortunately women take it more seriously. An outstanding piece!