Poem of the Week: A Somewhat Poetic Rant about 21st Century Brats who Find Humor in Others’ Pain and Suffering

A Somewhat Poetic Rant about 21st Century Brats who Find Humor in Others’ Pain and Suffering
April 3, 2017

For too long I’ve been angry. For too long I’ve learned to hate
The people in this messed-up world as they further degenerate
Into immature, spiteful narcissists all wrapped up in themselves,
Mocking others’ misfortune while wallowing in their self-made hell,
Peeved over often petty things, unable to adjust
To a world that’s always changing, whether for benefit or bust,
Concerned with material crap, not giving a single damn
About any altruistic virtue, and outraged I still am,
For I’ve been taught since I was born to show consideration
Towards those other than myself, no matter the situation.
Sadly, many have proven themselves inconsiderate
Of those less fortunate than they are, which throws me into a fit
And makes me want to lock these fools all together in a cell
A thousand leagues beneath Earth’s crust, hoping they suffer hell
Away from all their precious toys and other material gains,
Having none but each other with whom to cope as they drive each other insane
With the same childish, disrespectful behavior for which they’re known,
And should they turn on each other and cut each other to the bone,
Leaving a mass of corpses soaking in their own blood and waste,
I’d show no surprise when even their families show no haste
In mourning their losses, for honestly, why the hell should they?
These heartless, selfish bastards and bitches should all be made to pay
For ridiculing the beleaguered and the situation
That put them in their place without thought or consideration.
After all, would it have killed these twits to have opened their eyes
And put themselves in the others’ shoes and come to realize
The pain with which they’ve had to cope from Day One up to now?
It seems so, judging from their careless words, though I don’t know how
These brats find humor in others’ pain on account of tragedy.
Alas, such is the case of certain kids these days, apparently,
Only caring ‘bout the here and now, no matter the weather,
Not giving a rat’s ass ‘bout trying to change anything for the better—
Not even for themselves, which I find to be irony.
Well, fine, then! So be it. Redefine the term “tragedy”
So that when you take the world over from us, it’ll just all the more
Suffer from whatever stupidity you have in store
For it and whatever denizens it may still have by then
Who’ll only be wishing all the more to traverse to Way Back When,
When life was simpler and stupid brats weren’t so blatantly PI
Smearing their heartless “humor” all over to reach all ears and eyes.
Keep dreaming, though, all you little creeps, for your day to come,
For we grownups still have a chance to save Earth from becoming dumb
As in dumber than it already is, no thanks to twerps like you,
And we’ll work hard to put it back together and see it through.
Who knows? Maybe a new golden will happen to rise
In which morals as corrupt and ass-backwards as yours are cut down to size
And the just can live in peace and harmony ‘til the sun burns out.
Until then, enjoy your says in the sunshine, you infantile little clouts,
For rudeness and disrespect can only take you so far in life
‘Til they finally catch up with you, and soon the pain and strife
Of growing up will at last sink in one way or another
And you’re forced to adapt or perish in the name of your divine mother.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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                         Amazon.co.uk

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Poem of the Week: Anxiety

Anxiety
November 6, 2016

Anxiety is
Nothing with which to mess, friend.
It can wreck your life.

You may think you’ve got
Things under control, but then
Some stupid thing or

Other happens that
Twitches inside your mind and
Makes you act out in

Some way that makes you
Regret your actions later
And leave you ashamed

Of yourself for how
You portrayed yourself ‘fore the
Eyes of other folks.

Self-consciousness is
One thing, but when one becomes
So wrapped up in what

Oneself says, does, or
Looks like, things backfire so
Much and so often

That one’s previous
Preoccupation didn’t
Mean squat in the end.

Don’t even get me
Started on social matters
Where uneasiness

Is often enough
At its worst, making things tough
For those who suffer:

Thin skin, fragile nerves,
Oversensitivity
To all around you

And to each word you
Read or hear, no matter how
Each word might be meant.

It’s an exercise
In social and cognitive
Fitness, and unless

You’ve got what it takes
To endure whatever comes
Your way, no matter

How or from where it
Comes, chances are that you’ll snap
Under the pressure.

Many a kind soul
Has fallen prey to such a
Nasty condition,

Which has hence led him
Or her back from fulfilling
The potential he

Or she had to change
The world for the better, and
No, it isn’t fair.

It’s also unfair
That certain assholes in this
World feel the need to

Install such a state
Of mind into others by
Taking out their vile

Insecurities
Out on them day after day
In the vain hope of

Feeling good about
Themselves despite their childish,
Groundless, inhumane,

Unproductive, and
Outright petty behavior
That no sane person

Would tolerate and,
In reality, only
Helps those who resort

To it ease their own
Pain for a brief while ‘til their
Insecurities

Predictably ‘nough
Flare up again, hence giving
Them the excuse to

Start the whole cycle
Over again, thus proving
Just how weak they are,

And yet, they make those
Who don’t deserve to suffer
Suffer anyway.

Yeah, that’s…that’s just great—
Let’s spread our anxiety
Around like a plague

‘Til everyone feels
Our pain and this world becomes
Even more of a

Powder keg than it
Is already. Thanks a lot,
Assholes of the world!

Thanks for being such
Petty, narcissistic brats
And spreading the angst

‘Round ‘til everyone
Has ended up like you and
Thus making life more

Of a living hell
Than it had been already,
All because you twits

Personally can’t
Get your own lives together.
Thanks a lot, you schmucks!

In the meantime, let’s
All hope that the good people
Of the world can pull

Themselves together
So that they—and we—can all
Unite and heal this

Crippled world before
It goes further off the deep
End and our children

Must endure something
Even worse than what we have
Already, and if

The good folks happen
To need help, let’s give it to
Them so that they in

Turn can help us help
The world as a whole and thus
Make less room for fear

To fester. Take note:
The time is now, not later,
For the sooner we

Put anxiety
To rest, the sooner we all
Can move forward and

Enjoy a brighter
Day under Heaven’s hot sun
For years to come, so

Let’s work together
And put history in the
Past where it belongs.

Anxiety hurts,
After all, and only gets
Worse the longer we

Allow it to, so
Let’s do something about it
And all end the pain.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: The Criticism Poem

The Criticism Poem
August 3, 2016

People ain’t always friendly. People ain’t always nice,
But that’s still no excuse to let your sensitivity become a vice,
‘Cause no matter how critical folks might be of the stuff you make,
You can’t always fire back at them, especially with words half-baked.

Let’s say some senile, whiny manchild yearly rants on and on
About how you “don’t do anything new” on a certain show you’re on
And instead “keep doing the same old crap” without proving his point
And keeps using the same old tired-ass words to stink up the joint.
Would you cave in and let his groundless hypocrisy get to you,
Or would you rise above it and let others’ love for you see you through?
Would you rather listen to constructive critiques of what you’re doing wrong
Or let some bitter dunce keep ragging on you with the same old song?

Even if the masses hate your stuff, you can’t flip your feces, friend,
And trash them or their opinion, lest you wish to see a bitter end
And be recalled as a jackass for biting the hand that could have fed you
And stepping on those who’ve supported you in what good you used to do.
People are allowed to have legitimate criticisms, after all,
And point out flaws in your work that are there so that you won’t take a fall
With your next project, so what’s the point in screaming up a storm
As though they’re clueless idiots whose bodies are still moist and warm
From recently slithering out of their mothers’ bellies? Tell me, friend,
How else you believe a person’s career can be brought to an end.

Also…all you’ve heard about trolls? Guess what: It’s all true.
The cowardly pranksters exist and are out to get folks like you
Whose paper-thin skin is too weak to endure their razor-sharp tongues
And the toxic trash they spew out from their foul mouths and filthy lungs,
And for you to take them seriously will surely cause your demise,
So mind the sincere, and when it comes to trolls, screw those guys!
Honest, sincere critique is what should matter to folks these days,
Even if it’s not what you “want” to hear in any sort of way.
Otherwise, how well will you improve at the craft that earns you cash?
That in mind, keep your ears and eyes open, and please don’t be an ass
By giving any flack back to anyone for any reason,
‘Cause trust me, bub, no matter the case, backtalk is never in season.

Now, wise up, smarten up, screw your heels in, and bite your bottom lip,
‘Cause you’re bound to be judged no matter what, be it gently or straight from the hip,
And keep the words that make the most sense separate from the verbal farts,
And I’m sure you’ll find it much easier to grow as a student of your art.
It’s like I’ve said, after all: Folks aren’t always kind, so grow a spine
And hope for the best while expecting the worst, fellow artist of mine.

*****

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