About dmw1011

I'm a former English teacher and long-time aspiring author from northeastern Illinois who FINALLY jumped ship with the whole e-book publishing scene in March 2012. Fiction is my specialty (although I admittedly tend to flex my poetic muscles a lot on this website), and my interests are diverse. I aim not only to entertain my readers, but also to inspire them through my writing. Feel free to check my work on Smashwords.com, Amazon.com, and Amazon.co.uk to check my current work out for yourselves!

Poem of the Week: Message to a Disgruntled Wrestling Fan

Message to a Disgruntled Wrestling Fan
November 14, 2018

You try, try, try ‘til you can’t try anymore.
You give it your best shot, but doing so becomes a chore,
And your teeth grind while your blood boils and sweat pours out your pores.
How much longer will this go on ‘til you can take no more?

Too many times you’ve been burned by products A, B, C,
And so forth that you’re reluctant to try our Product Z,
But even when you try Z, you still have your complaints.
No matter where you look for love, you only find where it ain’t.

Then you start to wonder if that which you’d tried to find
Was even worth looking for in the first place, friend of mine,
Questioning all the while if it was all just a waste of time
Or if you’d chanced to miss out on something truly sublime

That happened to leave the scene once upon a time ‘til one day
It all comes soaring back as quickly as it’d gone away.
Alas, that thing has yet to return, if it’d ever been there at all,
Else why would you be here lamenting that which you used to love fall?

It’s a sad state of affairs, friend. That even I can say,
Lest chance you’re merely overreacting to how things are today,
For I doubt things are quite as bas as you make them out to be.
Then again, you’ve been so badly burned that you’ll never believe me.

Trust me. I’ve been burned, too, time after time again
To the point where I’ve been left begging for how things were back when,
And I hadn’t any patience left, if any at all, in fact,
And the fecal matter I’d been watching wasn’t worth a heart attack.

In short, then, I don’t blame you for turning your back on this mess
For fear of putting yourself through unnecessary distress.
I think you’re being hasty, though, and should give things more of a chance
Before disowning your love altogether and leaving the dance.

Besides, knowing how you operate, you’ll be back any way
Just like so many other folks in your position these days
Because you can’t let go of it all on account of something deep
Inside of you that controls you, no matter if you’re awake or asleep

And makes you keep coming back to that which you both love and hate—
One day the one, the next the other…forever you debate.
No matter how much you want to leave it for good, you never can
In the surely vain hope it’ll improve, and all I can tell you, man,

Is that you do you, for all I can do is give you advice
Concerning your situation, which I can clearly see ain’t nice.
Stay or leave forever, then, but whichever path you choose,
Keep in mind what you’ll gain from each path and what you stand to lose.

Good luck either way on the path you take, whichever one it’ll be.
I’m sure you’ll stand by your decision and hope you’ll soon see
The outcome you desire for the product you once loved.
After all, it’s come to fit you like a hand inside a glove.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

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Bonus Poem of the Week: Wasted Time

Wasted Time
December 8, 2018

Wasted time,
Wasted opportunity—
Opportunity for development,
Opportunity for growth,
Growth and progress,
Growth in your craft—
Craft you love,
Craft that feeds you,
You and your hungry soul,
You and your hungry mind—
Mind now starving,
Mind now empty…
Empty and hollow,
Empty and aching,
Aching for inspiration,
Aching for food,
Food for thought,
Food for anything—
Anything that strikes you,
Anything that inspires,
Inspires your next masterpiece,
Inspires your next anything—
Anything you can create,
Anything you can share,
Share with others,
Share with the world—
World always starving,
World always craving,
Craving something different,
Craving something new,
New to replace the old,
New to continue the cycle,
Cycle of change,
Cycle of the world—
World awaiting your work,
World awaiting you.
You can do it.
You can do something—
Something worthwhile,
Something great,
Great for yourself,
Great for others.
Others will come.
Others will appreciate—
Appreciate your genius,
Appreciate your effort.
Effort is a must.
Effort into your work.
Must…
Work.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                        
Amazon.com
                         
Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Protest Against Corporate Wrestling

Protest Against Corporate Wrestling
December 6, 2018

Why do I even bother? Why do I even care?
Why do I pay attention to that which goes nowhere?
Why did I ever love that which has never loved me back?
Whatever the case, I’d better stop before it all fades to black.
Life’s short enough as it is to be living in misery,
So why am I bothering with this tripe I keep tuning in to see?
The big wigs know they’ll never dip below two million hits,
Even when they churn out a product that treats their audience like twits
With lame comedy, complete with toilet humor, in between fights
And the same tired bits with the same players night after night after night
Playing characters who betray their casting for no reason at all
Other than the fact that the writers somehow aren’t on the ball–
Characters otherwise so bland and predictable that it hurts
For all but those with low expectations or ignorant little squirts.
It’s all for an audience of two, both of whom are in denial
Of the downfall of their product on account of their acting senile,
For many are the pundits and fans who’re fed up with this trash,
No matter how many supporters still willingly fork over their cash
Rather than support alternatives that shy away from pandering
And utilize straight-forward formulas to which I’ve been meandering,
And though these products have flaws of their own, I must admit,
At least there’s some effort put into them that doesn’t leave me throwing fits.
At least they make the effort to show something I haven’t seen
Or something I have, but in a different way, if you know what I mean.
At least they dare to be different and respect the art upon which
They’ve based themselves upon, thus prompting me to make a switch.
No more will I let some billionaire half-ass his way towards
Greatness with a product that’s clearly not worthy of reward.
No more will I let others tell me what’s treasure or trash.
I’m a grown man with a mind of my own that won’t settle for hash—
Especially that which kills my braincells second by second each sitting.
Such a fate for me I simply no longer see as fitting.
To the alternatives, then, I shall from now on dedicate my time.
Goodbye, then, corporate nonsense. I’ll no more have your cheese with my wine,
For I shall whine no more—only dine upon high quality.
After all, if I’m to be happy, such is how things must be.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                        
Amazon.com
                         
Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Generation Wars

Generation Wars
November 30, 2018

Generation wars are naught but a bore
Fueled by childish minds
Whose idea of “bold” is screaming at the old
For “leaving [them] behind”

To struggle and sweat through hardship, yet
Not claiming any agency
For their own near-demise, for in their own eyes,
They’re as perfect as can be.

Then again, what about the ignorant louts
From the generation after,
So “stupid” and “lazy,” they drive their elders crazy
With disdainful, derisive laughter?

Apparently, the future shall be
Inherited by the weak
Of brain, spine, and soul with no mind for old
Ways in the wake of the bleak

Fate that awaits our race in the last hour
Of its existence on Earth,
And we alone shall be our own killers, pal,
So take that for what it’s worth.

That’s at least the belief of middle-aged grief,
Which gets narrated each age,
And it never changes or rearranges
No matter how we’ve turned the page

To move on to the next chapter. Still, we’re vexed
To listen to the bigotry
Of whiny old hags, dumb brutes, and windbags
Too bitter and selfish to see

How they could help the world ‘fore they at long last hurl
It all into the sun to burn
And with their younger kin join forces to win
It all back so that both parties learn

What it takes to keep it all from falling deep
Into trouble just like it is now
With all violence, bickering, and virulence
We’ve all had to endure…and how!

Of course, it all takes younger folks to wake
Up and realize what’s truly wrong,
Then use their heads in helping put to bed
All that’s crippled us all for so long.

After all, if the young want respect sung
‘Bout them, it’s better now than never
To show that they care ‘bout the future and where
It goes once their predecessors

At long last retire and afterwards expire,
Never to be heard from again,
Leaving the young to take over things in their wake
And the cycle to restart like back when.

Then again, how can we move on with no plan—
No guidance to see us through
Or wisdom to show just where we must go
And what exactly we must do

To reach precisely where we need to be?
Well, that’s where the old must come in
To share their experience and aid the young hence
In their mutual quest for a win

Of prosperity for humanity,
For only teamwork will provide
Society a chance to once more dance
‘Neath the sun in our hopes to survive.

Enough, then, of these spats, for they’re not where it’s at
When it comes to the global collective
Moving on to tomorrow—one, too, rid of sorrow.
It’s time we all must be more protective

And start working together so that we can weather
The drama we’ve made for ourselves
So that prosperity’s ‘round the corner to see
And that fear is back on its shelf.

To Hell, then, with these petty wars, if you please.
They’re not helping us in the least.
Only cooperation will help this wrecked nation
And the world at large know peace.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                        
Amazon.com
                         
Amazon.co.uk

Bonus Poem of the Week: Black Friday

Black Friday
November 25, 2018

Ugh…
Black Friday…
Hunting, scavenging, quarreling…
Thank goodness it’s over!
Resting, relaxing, recuperating…
Commercialism stinks!
Madness.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: The Purpose of Christmas

The Purpose of Christmas
November 24, 2018

The football games are over, the Best in Show’s been named,
And many are the leftovers from days ago,
But now’s no time for resting, for now we must light the flame
To welcome the Christmas season, don’t you know.

It’s time to frock the house with boughs of holly and twinkling lights
And evergreen garlands everywhere we can.
It’s time to set up the Christmas tree and decorate it just right
In the living room where Mom’s favorite lamp stands.

It’s time to play the Christmas carols upon which we grew up
To lift our moods and fill our hearts with cheer
And figure out which recipes on Christmas Eve we’ll sup—
Dishes we usually don’t eat year-round.

We’ve three to four weeks left, too, to shop for Christmas gifts
To show our loved ones just how much we care.
So many options for each recipient through which we to sift
From electronics to trinkets to underwear…

It’s a once-a-year tradition that comes around each December
Before the old year ends and the new one starts,
Giving us at least one last moment of the year to remember
And hopefully last forever in our hearts.

Alas, not even the Christmas spirit can purge this sad world
Of the evils that corrupt it day after day.
Persistent violence, rampant disease, hatred constantly hurled—
It all comes back to haunt us in some way.

It’s thus up to us to recall just why we celebrate this season,
For material wealth alone can’t be our drive.
How about health, prosperity, and family as worthy reasons
In keeping the spirit of Christmas alive?

What about the lessons once taught to us by He Born in a Manger
Of tolerance and compassion for those whom we meet?
What about showing kindness regularly to both loved ones and strangers
Regardless if the weather is sun or sleet?

How can we call ourselves human if we don’t bear a shred of grace
With or without Christmas to show s the way?
It shouldn’t take candy canes and reindeer popping up ‘round the place
To teach us our purpose on any given day.

Even so, the warmth this season always chances to bring
During days when snow falls and the nights grow long
Can never be denied, for when I hear carolers sing,
I can never help but stand by and sing along.

Indeed, Christmas means a lot to me in more ways than I can say,
And forsaking it for me would be a sin,
For even after the passing of each year’s Christmas Day,
I’m reminded of the state this world is in

And my responsibility as a human being to set things right
No matter what, even in but a small way.
After all, that’s why we exist on Earth: to bear the light
To shine upon others, even past Christmas Day.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Thanksgiving 2018

Thanksgiving 2018
November 13, 2018

Turkey and dressing on the table,
Ham fresh from the oven,
Asparagus, yams, cranberry sauce…
Nutty buns, too, worth lovin’.
Kids and parents ‘round the table
Stuffing their mouths graciously,
Giving thanks to The Man Upstairs
In the wake of where they chance to be.
Vying for television control
In the living room that afternoon,
Nothing less than one more meal
Going back in the fridge soon.

Such are the memories I have
Of each Thanksgiving I’ve lived:
Traditions that’ve lasted a lifetime
With even more mem’ries to give,
And this Thanksgiving shan’t be diff’rent
As far as I can tell,
So here’s to another great Thanksgiving
For me and all of you as well.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                        
Amazon.com
                         
Amazon.co.uk

*****

The picture included above (c) 2018 courtesy of RichmondMom.com. The poem itself, however, is the author’s own.