Poem of the Week: Sick Boy Blues

Sick Boy Blues
October 16, 2019

Sniff, sniff! Wheeze! Cough!
Sure wish these germs would knock it off.
Achoo! Sniff, sniff! Hack!
Go away, virus, and don’t come back.
Snort, snort! Gurgle, gurgle…
Trying to get over another hurdle
So that I can carry on with life
And overcome a different breed of strife.
How I got this cold, I’ll never know,
As I often take care of myself just so,
Knowing when to work and rest, watching what I eat,
Always washing myself from my head to my feet…
Yet come cold season, I always lose
And end up suffering the Sick Boy Blues—
Even if for a day or two, but that’s still enough
To make sure my system’s not up to snuff
And keep me from being the best I can be
At whatever I do for the sake of you and me.
Even so, I’ve come back, no matter the ordeal,
Thus showing how I can fare through a bad deal.
Come on, then, perseverance, and help me through
Another round of the Sick Boy Blues,
As I’ve plenty of work looking back in my face,
And I need more than ever to put it in its place.
Otherwise, this cycle I’ll never overcome,
And forever will I be known as little more than a bum
Whose efforts have meant squat and whose dreams never came true.
Oh, curse my foul luck and these Sick Boy Blues!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Even Machines Break Down

Even Machines Break Down
October 5, 2019

Even machines break down sometimes, my friend.
Nothing lasts forever materially.
I’m sorry to say, but this is the end.

It’s great that you see value in me, friend,
But these tasks have taken their toll on me.
Even machines break down sometimes, my friend.

Not just that, but the machine ‘round the bend
Ain’t quite in top shape like it used to be.
I’m sorry to say, but this is the end.

Once we both stood tall, ready to defend
‘Gainst our clients’ demands, as all could see.
Even machines break down sometimes, friend.

Now, though, there’s no point at all to pretend
That we’re both not as spent and spent can be.
I’m sorry to say, but this is the end.

No matter the cash you’re willing to spend,
This last run will be the last run for me.
Even machines break down sometimes, my friend.
I’m sorry to say, but this is the end.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Airheads

Airheads
September 19, 2019

Since the 1980s, airheads have been
A thing in U.S. culture with which we
Have all come to deal, no dif where we’ve seen
Or heard them nor who they happen to be.
On TV, the radio—the ‘Net, too—
Even in real life…airheads ev’rywhere
Rambling on and on ‘bout themselves, no clue
In their heads ‘bout how no one truly cares
‘Bout their lives, no matter the facet of
Which they speak: their studies, their food, their hair,
Their clothes and make-up, whom they chance to love…
Take the hint, narcissists: Nobody cares!
You’re not special in the grand scheme of things.
You’re just like the rest of us. Hope that stings!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Basic English

Basic English
September 23, 2019

Smart you claim to be in your chosen field,
Yet vapid you are by the way you speak.
How can I trust the knowledge you might wield
When the words you utter utterly reek
Of the shallowness and ignorance of
Those concerned but with material wealth?
Each “like” you blurt out fits like hand in glove
And makes me wonder ‘bout your mental health.
Each “literally” you spew…even worse!
What’s next? “Dude,” “bro,” “mang,” “bae,” or “OMG?”
Who afflicted you with the Basic’s Curse
In all its foul verbal stupidity?
Sorry…you don’t sound hip, trendy, or cool.
Rather, all you sound like is a damn fool.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Fear, Buzz Off!

Fear, Buzz Off!
September 11, 2019

Fear…
Buzz off!
Weeping, dwelling, droning…
Done with it all!
Smartening, strengthening, maturing…
Growing up.
Courage.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Rambling about Laziness in the 2010s

Rambling about Laziness in the 2010s
September 10, 2019

We all know laziness is unacceptable,
Yet it keeps on getting worse, which is regrettable.
The same tired song sung over and over—
Nowhere near as well, either, when it was over like Rover,
As the weak singing makes the lyrics sound sadly worse
Like they were all distorted as if by a witch’s curse
And sprinkled—nay, slathered—with profanity
With mind-numbing instrumentals of ear-splitting intensity,
The pair of which combine to create that which makes me scream
And wish I was only having one hell of a bad dream.
Then again, this noise just might haunt me in my sleep.
Thanks a lot, then, for making it in the first place, creep!

As if this world didn’t have enough morons who make
The least effort I n doing what they do, I could take
Incompetence as it comes. Alas, such isn’t the case
With so much laziness of thought thrown in my face.
For years now, we’ve all dined upon mediocrity
On account of lacking much that’s better to hear and see…
Or so we’ve thought, lest we’d dared to look around and find
Modern stuff that actually more suits our state of mind—
Stuff that’s actually made with hard work, talent, and love
That fits our enjoyment needs like a hand inside a glove.
Ah, but lo—what’s with the low profile these great films, shows,
Novels, and songs are getting? Why the anonymity woes?
Why do so many things of honest value get ignored
By the masses when the high profile junk leaves them bored,
Vexed, frustrated, or perturbed—or, leastways, so they say?
Have their minds become lazy, too? In some sick, twisted way?
How can quality flourish in a realm where all expect
Nothing more or less than the same old mindless dreck
We’ve come to expect each year without fail time and again—
A cycle that’s come to be since I dare not say when?

Also, when will we demand better of ourselves
And not be so quick to tuck our brains away on our shelves,
Thus leaving us prone to developing the most vapid behavior
We’ve had probably since ever? Are we waiting for some savior
To come save us from ourselves all ‘cause we’re too dumb to do
What it takes on our own accord to save the likes of me and you?
What will we do ‘til then? Keep on wallowing in the muck
We’ve made for ourselves over the years? ‘Cause I’m no such schmuck.
I’d rather be moving forward, always growing with each year.
I’m sick of putting up with my own and others’ ignorance and fear
With stupidity, both willful and witless, thrown into the mix
And more than a dash for indolence thrown in just for kicks.
I want my media from now on to be classic as can be
Just like how we often regard the stuff from decades ago, you see—
Not saying yesterwhen was perfect at all, but the point stands
That effort mattered then in media, and folks across the land
Could once tell the good from the bad at least most of the time.
Sadly, that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. What a crime
That talent and effort are seen as “overrated” in this age
While “mass appeal” and chasing trends always makes the front page.
Forget shambling corpses! The zombie apocalypse is now
And has been for two decades or so, and yes, I’m having a cow.
Why shouldn’t I upon making this realization, friends?
‘Tis all the reason why you, too, might want this madness to end.

Like I said, laziness is simply unacceptable,
And there’s no more excuse these days to put up with the bull
With which we have for so long, so let’s all take a stand
And demand that people wise up and straighten out ‘cross the land.
We’ve got to know the habits that’ve long dulled our senses,
Knock them all off at once, and set up strong social defenses
‘Gainst our knack for developing such wretched habits again
While we smarten up and regard things like we did way back when:
With discernment and taste with a demand for grace and sense,
And should we keep that up, society will evolve hence
Into what it should have been by now, but then again,
Better late than never to clean up our lazy-ass act, friends.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: Rise Above the Clowns

Rise Above the Clowns
September 11, 2019

Dwell not on the past, should it bring you pain.
Do so, and you’ll only drown in sorrow.
From painful mem’ries, you’ve little to gain,
Should you hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Learn from past events if you wish, but then
File the memory away before it
Haunts you day and night ‘til you don’t know when
And leaves you each time throwing a foul fit
That you might end up taking out on those
Who care for you most and wish for you to
Grow and succeed, unlike these sad, sick schmoes
Who selfishly milk the past ‘til they’re through.
Rise above those clowns. You’re better than that.
Leave them to wade in their dim, childish scat.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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                         Amazon.co.uk