Haste Makes Waste
August 4, 2017
Hurrying, scurrying, panicking
That’s when mistakes happen
Misthinking, misdoing, backfiring
Visions of a Working Class Writer
July 16, 2017
Born and raised on pizza, burgers and fries,
And other simple stuff that my folks could buy
As they slaved away to keep a roof over my head
And clothes on my back as well as our daily bread.
We never had cable programming on our TV.
Heck, we couldn’t even tune in to Fox to see
The kind of shows they had on any given night—
Just roaring, flickering noise set to screens of black and white.
Any luxury we had, we clung onto like it was gold,
For only Heaven knew the kind of future we’d behold,
Had any of us progressed beyond our working class ways,
And even now, I’m dreaming of what I hope are better days—
Days where I no longer have to break my back or my feet
Hauling heavy boxes while traversing winding streets,
Where I no longer sweat through my clothes within the first hour
And the first thing I do when I get home is take a shower,
Days where my head doesn’t throbs to where I must take a nap
To sleep away my pain like a cat in its owner’s lap,
Where going on adventures actually means something
And being paid for my creativity at last becomes a thing.
Alas, I haven’t hit that point, though I can already see
The kind of lowlifes with which I’d have to cope that await me:
Purists who sneer at that which doesn’t flow a certain way,
Money grubbers who just care ‘bout how much one’s work will pay,
Egotists who scold those who don’t “get” things right away,
Artsy farts who praise style over substance any day,
Snarky twerps who mock others’ works behind their backs,
Soulless attention gluttons and other mindless hacks,
Mindless, trend-following drones who don’t know their history
And fail to remember how things once upon a time used to be.
Such and more are the scumbags who await those who, like me,
Dare to dream big and make it, and yet I still aim to be
One of the greatest in my field, my name forever ringing
Throughout history for my contributions, the masses forever singing,
And I know I can’t stop until that dream at last becomes real,
No matter whom I cross paths with. Such is my present deal.
There is another thing, though, that I aim to keep in mind:
The humble, happy boy I once was shan’t be left behind,
For no matter how big I get, I’ll remember always
Exactly whom I used to be prior to seeing brighter days,
The upbringing I had, and the things I’ve lived without,
And no matter how much longer it takes, I shan’t pout
On the day my dream comes true, for should I spit in the face
Of success when it falls upon me, I’ll be put back in my place.
Such is a fate I can’t afford to face anymore.
It’s now or never with me to see just what’s in store
For me in my journey to finally realize my dream.
Who knows? Even with the fools, things might be better than they seem.
July 4, 2017
Talk, talk, talk—that’s what you like to do,
But little did you realize, friend,
That the more you open your mouth, the further in your foot
Goes in to choke you out in the end.
You sit there on your ass, flaunting your accomplishments,
Claiming superiority where you please,
Proudly sporting your fauxhawk, neckbeard, and thick-rimmed specs
As you ridicule others’ childhood memories.
“Oh, wow! What a lazy premise! What a shameless rip-off!
What cheesy music and animation!
I can’t believe folks actually watched this back in the day.”
Such is what you spew across the nation.
“Good grief! What a hokey scene! What a way to throw logic
Out the window just to tell a story.”
Hey, you’re the one who bothered digging up trash
From the past to show the world in all its glory.
Honestly, do you think we don’t know trash when we see it
With our own eyes and hear with our own ears,
Especially when it’s been out long enough for ourselves
To witness with embarrassment and fear?
Do you really think we need some snarky, immature know-it-all
Showing and telling what we can find out
Ourselves without any guidance? Please! Stop with the insults
‘Cause that’s what you seem to be all about,
So spend your free time doing something far more constructive
And meaningful in the long run of it all
Like warning us of the crap that’s been flooding the mainstream
Today before society further falls
Into ruin just as you claim it had back in the day
With the ages-old dreck you bash presently.
Seriously, you think the past sucked? Well, today’s not much better.
Just look around you, and you’ll see.
Once you do, I hope you at last come to see the light
And put your supposed knowledge to the test
To purge the world of ignorance—hopefully forever—
And put the media’s faults to rest.
Take the hint, then, cocky boy, and clean up your act.
Stop ragging on that which has long past
And do all you can to help us all move forward
And craft memories meant to last.
June 23, 2017
Fans of no one else
Fans of only themselves
Themselves they care about
Themselves topics of interest
Interest in others shown
Interest in others feigned
Effort in their own content
Effort in their own design
Design all identical
Design so lazy
Lazy and sparse
Lazy and nonexistent
Care for their audience
Care for their content
Content with no context
Content that’s all show, no tell
Tell no recipes
Tell no stories
Stories of the subject
Stories behind the image
Image with no purpose
Image with no meaning
Meaning for existence
Meaning beyond what it is
Is this what the world has come to?
Is this what people want to see
See for years to come
See rather than well-written articles
Articles with actual thought and effort
Articles that entertain and educate
Educate about the world
Educate about life
Life outside of the Internet
Life lessons we all must learn
Learn to identify these posers
Learn to see through their ruse
Ruse of friendship
Ruse of support
Support those who work hard
Support those who care
Care about you
Care about the things that matter
Yet Another Minooka Telemarketing Poem
June 17, 2017
Ring, ring, ring! Who can it be again
After we’ve been solicitor-free since Time knows when?
Quarter past one on a weekday afternoon,
Second week of summer. Who’d be calling so soon?
Well, son of a gun! Look at the Caller ID.
Is that the word “Minooka” flashing back at me?
The number may be different, but the name’s the same
As that of the solicitors that last year drove me insane.
Well, newsflash! I’m not picking up for them. No way!
I refuse to let these Minooka jerks ruin my day
And insist I donate to some charity they won’t name.
I’m far too wise to that trash to try to play that game.
I know that charity collectors who collect over the phone
Take the brunt of the donations made to them for their own
And give what pennies are left to whatever charities
They represent, not caring if the recipients are on their knees,
Begging for the relief that they deserve directly
And not over the phone from the likes of you or me,
Especially if the handlers end up pocketing the cash
For their own benefit, adding it to their private stash.
Worse yet is how “Minooka” just won’t leave us alone,
Even after we’ve told them bluntly to stop calling us on the phone.
For a while, matters seemed alright ‘til they rang us up again
Using this other number, which I’m sure they had way back when.
So much for a call blocker, then, for those who used such a thing
To protect themselves from one number only for their phones to ring
When Minooka calls from this other line, persistent as they are.
Well, guess what: When it comes to us, they won’t get us too far.
I’m on to you, Minooka, and if you call us again,
I’ll turn you in to the FTC to have you shut down by them.
Let’s see you earn your money then with no one to harass
And no charities to exploit once they’ve locked away your ass.
Good riddance, then, Minooka, and hopefully once and for all.
After all the times you’ve troubled us, I hope you finally fall.
You’re nothing but a greedy pest begging to be put down,
And I doubt I’ll be alone cheering when you’re no longer around.
Sick of the Bickering
June 6, 2017
Sick of the bickering, sick of the hating,
Sick of the insults we’ve all been trading,
Sick of the radicals pointing fingers
At each other and feeding that which lingers,
Sick of the drama and emotional sting
Upon which we’re all fixed over the slightest thing,
Sick of that which we but start to address,
Yet fail to solve day in, day out without rest,
Sick of double standards and self-servitude,
Sick of people being patronizing and rude,
Sick of name-calling and accusations,
Sick of twisted truths sweeping ‘cross the nation,
Sick of each lie and excuse I read and hear,
Sick of the blind hatred and unjustified fear,
Sick of the agendas tainting everyone’s mind,
Sick of insulting labels slapped on everyone’s behind,
Sick of thin-skinned brats fighting fire with fire
With the slightest misspoke word stoking folks’ ire,
Sick of the followers of a given cause
Getting their backs ‘gainst a wall, not stopping to pause
And think about their mission and what makes it great
As well as those who plague it with their hate,
Which they use to bash outsiders, their chosen enemies,
When they’ve obstacles already to pass with little ease.
Sick of propaganda being shoved in my face
And folks without my code calling me a disgrace
For keeping my own counsel and following my own rules
And not suffering those who take me for a fool
And talking down to me like I don’t know better
When my sensibilities have helped me weather
More crap than they could even start to understand
In this bitter, paranoid powder keg of a land.
Never will they get it ‘cause they’re too blind
To see how I keep from falling behind.
Outside looking in, I’ve got the edge,
Ears wide open as I peek over the hedge
And see for myself what the hell’s going on
And tune in to the ever-nauseating song
We’ve been hearing for years, if not, in fact, decades
While society all around us further degrades
Into something even more tragic than before,
And it’s gotten to where we clearly can handle no more.
When will we grow up? When will we move on?
When will we sing something other than the same song
We’ve all been singing for clearly way too long?
When will we realize we’ve been doing it wrong?
When will we at last learn that disdain’s not the way
We need to follow if we’re to bring in a better day?
Something’s got to change. Something’s got to give
‘Cause I’m sick of how things are now. They’re no way to live.
It’s time to wake up, people, if we ever hope
To reach even the base of Xanadu’s mighty slopes,
Much less their pinnacles, where we long should’ve been,
So let’s stop it with these feuds we’ve been in
And learn to work together before it’s too late.
Let go of your anger, rise above your hate,
And let’s learn to cooperate so that we
Can ensure a brighter future for you and me.
No more lashing out, bickering, or hating,
No more of the insults we’ve been trading,
Or any of the other crap that’s made me sick.
I’m sure you all, too, have had enough of it.
May 21, 2017
Most of us miss childhood
And wish we could go back
To relive the days
Where simpler ways
Were what kept us on track.
Alas, there’s no way to go back,
For time moves in just one way.
It’s forward ho
With no way to slow
Down to enjoy the day,
And our memories are the only way
To hold on to what we know
And that which was good
From our childhood
As well as all the woe.
After all, the “good ol’ days” weren’t so
All the time, even when they were good,
So hang in there, Jack,
For while time can’t turn back,
Giving the future a chance you should.
I Don’t Know When
May 31, 2017
Over and over and over again,
Fed the same old stuff since I don’t know when:
The same folks in the same spots as before…
When they’ll try something new, I don’t know when.
The same damn games they’d played four years ago…
When they’ll play diff’rent games, I don’t know when.
Not trusting the crowd to anticipate
The next scene ever since I don’t know when,
Using celebrities few care to see
Over their own cast since I don’t know when,
Starting and stopping each season midway
For no good reason since I don’t know when—
All these things and more ruining that which I
Used to love back then since I don’t know when
With no sign of change for better in sight,
Leaving things a mess since I don’t know when.
Guess what, though: Why should I sit here, complain,
And demand things change when I don’t know when
I’ll ever be heard and things will in fact
Change for the better when I don’t know when
Those who’ve come before me will have their words
Taken into account? I don’t know when.
Instead, then, I’ll just leave my TV off
Until things improve, though I don’t know when
That will be or even if it ever
Happens. It’s one big guess. I don’t know when,
But if the show finally gets cancelled,
Then oh well…bye-bye…though I don’t know when…
Or if the thing will at long last improve.
All I know’s I’ve left…and I do know when.
No Love for the Arrogant
May 19, 2017
I’ve no love for the arrogant, their heads swollen with pride,
Always looking down on others whose efforts they chide,
Always quick with insults, never seeking fault at all
Within their own deeds and behavior, for their own minds are too small
To let them see their own imperfections they, too, harbor deep
Inside the shrunken black rocks they call hearts, which sleep
Inside their chests and only beat for their hosts and them alone,
Never realizing that, like everyone else, they’re flesh and bone
And are capable of making mistakes—often knowingly—
But flippantly dismissing just how careless they can be
As they carry on hurting others’ feelings without remorse
Claiming to be superior and getting up on a high horse
To show the “peasants” how they’re “screwing up” what they do,
Talking to them like children as they explain things through and through
‘Cause the other people are as dumb as chicks freshly hatched in the nest
And need to be treated as such ‘cause the former know best.
Such is how the arrogant think, leastways, not realizing
That their own minds are every bit as in need of supersizing—
If not, in fact, even more so in order for them to see
That they’re really no better than anyone from you to me,
For it’s not ust their way or the highway that makes the world turn.
“Different strokes for different folks” is a saying these clowns should learn,
As one way of living, working, and playing doesn’t fit everyone,
And forcing their way of thinking and doing on all walking ‘neath the sun
Isn’t the way to make friends or even simply get along,
Especially in an era where cooperation must be strong
Between one another if we hope to move society forth,
And we’ve already been suffering from bickering of all sorts.
Besides, is the “one way” with which we’re familiar really working
In this world overrun with “shots fired,” “Fifty Shades,” and “twerking,”
Or do we need to get back something we’ve lost long ago—
Something that made us great once and that we’ve been missing so?
Maybe it’s time we stepped back and analyzed the situation
That’s been spreading like a plague between us all from nation to nation
And stop having such egos when it comes to each little thing.
Otherwise, we’ll be stuck in the cycle and keep feeling the sting
Of a million barbs and the million scars they’ve given us over the years,
And I’m sorry, but that crap’s gotta stop, and it’s gotta stop now and here,
So grow up and get over yourselves, egomaniacs!
Your behavior’s doing nobody a favor, and it’s time it got axed.
This world’s long needed to move forth. This world’s long needed to heal,
So put away your arrogance and learn for once to feel
For your fellow man and woman and lend him and her a hand
If we’re ever going to change things in this befouled, corrupted land.