Bonus Poem of the Week: Autopilot

July 2, 2015

You breathe and bleed like other folks.
You eat and sleep as well,
But inside your head,
You’re damn near dead—
A special kind of hell.

If your brain’s working, you can’t tell,
And yet, it’s heavy like lead
With a constant drone
Like an ever-ringing phone
With the information it’s been fed.

You can barely remember that which has been said,
Even words that were your own.
You mess tasks up as well
Where others fare well
‘Cause the humming won’t leave you alone.

Thankfully, there’s a way to once again own
Your mind from this sick joke:
Slow down and think well
In spite of the swell
Before your brain goes up in smoke.


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Poem of the Week: Growing Up, Giving Up

Growing Up, Giving Up
June 29, 2015

Growing up means giving up, for there’s work to be done.
From childhood to adulthood, each year means less time for fun,
So enjoy your cartoons while you can with your books and video games,
For when you reach my age, children, your world won’t be the same.

No more time for daydreaming, save for sadly looking back
While slaving away to earn the cash to keep the clothes on your back,
Not to mention food on your table and your humble, sturdy shack
And coverage you need for when you endure that ulcer or heart attack.

Meanwhile, the time you once had for what you once enjoyed
Will be severed severely, thanks to daily chores, girls and boys—
Lest you long to live in swill, which really, I don’t see why
Anyone would want to, for if I had to, I’d die.

Anyway, the time you had for hobbies won’t be as great,
Which means having to give some up, leaving you to debate
Which ones you want to take with you and which to give the boot,
And by the time you’ve made up your mind, you can’t help but say, “Shoot!

I’m down to one or two interests. Now what shall I do—
Especially if I suddenly gain a new one out of the blue?”
Then the cycle starts over again, much to your chagrin,
Putting you in the same position you had just been in.

Who knows, though? Maybe by the, you’ll have things straightened out,
And you’ll know exactly just what you adult free time’s all about,
And you’ll have a pastime or two to carry on with and enjoy,
But should you come to pine for what you’ve lost…oh, boy!

Well, let’s just say I’ve warned you, for there’s no turning back.
Then again, you might find your love again down the track.
That’s no guarantee, of course, so keep your fingers crossed
In your efforts to show Father Time who’s really the boss.

Good luck to you, for you might need it. That’s all I can say,
Save for but this one last thing as you carry on living each day:
Life is indeed worth living—just challenging at times,
But you can make the most of it, should you keep sharp your mind.


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Poem of the Week: Progress Lost

Progress Lost
June 25, 2015

Once I was ahead, now I’m far behind,
Trying to figure out where I’m going.
Have I lost my touch or only my mind?
Either way, this stalemate I’m at’s showing
In my work, no matter what it might be,
Making it seem so dull, lame, and choppy
That I can’t believe that it came from me,
Knowing how much I hate stuff that’s sloppy.
I seriously need to regroup now,
Get my brain in shape ‘fore I go too far
And produce worse material—and how!—
In my quest to at last procure my star.
Back to the books, for now more than ever,
I must undertake greater endeavors.


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Poem of the Week: Real Women, Strong Women

Real Women, Strong Women
June 16, 2015

Real women,
Real deal—
Deal of a lifetime,
Deal worth having,
Having by your side,
Having to hold.
Hold on dearly.
Hold on loosely, though.
Though they’re worth everything,
Though they be a treasure,
Treasure their autonomy.
Treasure their independence—
Independence from solitude,
Independence from the home,
Home where the heart still is,
Home where their money goes,
Goes to support the family,
Goes to those whom they love—
Love more than affection,
Love more than words.
Words can’t hold them back.
Words shouldn’t hold them back,
Back from living free,
Back from their dreams—
Dreams inspired by those before them,
Dreams of greatness,
Greatness that isn’t men’s alone,
Greatness and notoriety,
Notoriety for talent,
Notoriety for wisdom—
Wisdom that this world solely misses,
Wisdom that we all need,
Need in our lives,
Need for our collective piece of mind,
Mind worth not wasting,
Mind worth preserving—
Preserving like women’s love,
Preserving with all our heart and souls,
Souls of lovers,
Souls of fighters,
Fighters for family,
Fighters for their place,
Place amongst humanity,
Place in the world,
World most unforgiving,
World of competition—
Competition between the strong,
Competition between men and women…


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Bonus Poem of the Week: Lunatics Like You

Lunatics Like You
June 11, 2015

You said you’ve done your research, then you opened up your mouth,
And from your first sentence on, your argument went south,
For anyone with a working mind can already tell
That you don’t know Fresca from feces or Heaven from Earth from Hell.
You babble on about topics you’ve clearly no knowledge of
And show your utter ignorance about that which you don’t love.
You rant about lost knowledge you claim has been hidden for years
That even a fool can discover, should said fool have eyes and ears.
You twist well-known facts around to satisfy an end
And regurgitate these lies in exchange for support from your friends.
You play upon paranoia others have of the unknown,
Hoping they’ll be gullible to accept your words as their own.
You preach about a “New World Order” conquering society,
Claiming to warn all about the chaos that might be,
When in reality, you’re the one egging on the rebellion
In hopes of toppling the tyrants according to your own mind, hellion,
And shattering the masses’ hopes for peace and prosperity
That could’ve been the product of what you’d overthrow, you see.
Alas, you claim these despots are keeping knowledge from you—
Knowledge that, if you had it, what exactly would you do?
Would you do precisely what you’re accusing them of
And bend the common folk to your will while you attained all the power
You could until your life expired, spending every hour
Gathering every odd and end of information you could
To fulfill an ultimate conclusion that might not prove to be good?
Then who’d the autocrat be after all? Who’d be the maniac?
Who’d be the subjugating fiend for others to attack?
Who’d be no better than Hitler, out to serve only himself?
Come now! Stop with your lies, you hyperbolic whelp.
Why would you want all the knowledge in the world anyway
When you know you wouldn’t use it responsibly on any day?
Don’t you know knowledge is only worth what it’s used for,
Regardless of who’s using it or behind how many doors?
Besides, can your mind even process the facts you may find,
Especially considering those you misconstrued at one time?
Are you sure your mind won’t melt from all the mental pressure
You just might suffer upon accumulating such treasure?
You barely know how to use the knowledge you’ve collected now
For anyone’s benefit but your own, so don’t try to be a sow
And hog it all and misuse it, for I can pretty much guarantee
Things’ll only be worse than before for everyone—you, me,
Your very own clueless legions and everyone else we know,
So please do the world a favor and don’t bring about more woe,
For we’ve already suffered enough from lunatics like you,
And we can’t afford to suffer anymore hitting us out of the blue.
Now, clean up your act, silence yourself, and don’t say another word.
Your inane, groundless hypotheses are the worst I’ve ever heard.


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Poem of the Week: Rant against Nostalgic Media

Rant against Nostalgic Media
June 9, 2015

Stop feeding me yesterday!
I’m done living in the past.
What’s done is done
And no longer fun,
So leave it all in the past.

I want new memories to last
From now ‘til my life’s done,
So out with the old!
Dare to be bold,
For a new era’s begun.

Let’s hear some new songs be sung
And some new stories be told.
There must be a way
To bring in a new day
‘Fore our souls be all bought and sold.

The stories of old just bear too much mold
To feed our children today.
Leave them thus in the past!
They need new stuff to last
And call their own during these days.


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Bonus Poem of the Week: The Persistent Solicitor

The Persistent Solicitor
June 3, 2015

Hey there, neighbor! Want to donate your car
And help a vet with your contribution?
If not, we’ll keep calling you near and far,
Ceaselessly ’til you find a solution
To our weekly calls, least ’til you hit “9.”
Then we’ll take you off our calling list, friend…
Just to add you back to it, pal o’ mine,
And call some more ’til you’re at your wits’ end,
And should you call us to be taken off,
We’ll just cuss you out simply ’cause we can.
After all, we’re legit, so don’t you scoff,
Lest it’s at some site claiming we’re a scam,*
No matter how many of them you see.
Just give us your car, you son of a B!


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