Poem of the Week: The Holidays Are Here!

The Holidays Have Returned!
November 19, 2017

The holidays have returned!
The holidays are here,
Here for us to enjoy,
Here for us to celebrate—
Celebrate with friends and family,
Celebrate with food and song,
Song after song on the radio,
Song after song ‘round the fireplace—
Fireplace well across from the tree,
Fireplace where the chestnuts pop,
Pop like edible firecrackers,
Pop like kettle corn.
Kettle corn and deviled eggs,
Kettle corn and cranberries on strings,
Strings of lights on the banister,
Strings of lights lining the entire house—
House that smells of turkey,
House that smells of fig pudding,
Pudding for guests,
Pudding for carolers.
Carolers—winter’s trick-or-treaters.
Carolers—the bards of the season—
Season of joy,
Season of remembering—
Remembering Jesus,
Remembering the babe in the manger—
Manger filled with hay,
Manger where the animals lay,
Lay sleeping ‘neath the starry sky,
Lay until the three wise men came,
Came with gifts for the young Messiah,
Came with frankincense, myrhh, and gold—
Gold that now decorates our homes,
Gold we now dig for from our wallets,
Wallets and purses.
Wallets never full enough,
Enough to help us purchase our party wares,
Enough to help us purchase our gifts,
Gifts for those we know,
Gifts for those we love.
Love is the theme of the season.
Love is the season’s reason—
Reason to exist,
Reason to remind us all,
All about the holidays,
All about the season’s spirit.
Holidays…
Spirit.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
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Poem of the Week: Christmastime Already?

Christmastime Already?
November 11, 2017

Carols already on the radio,
Trees already strung up with twinkling lights…
Vet’rans Day was just yesterday, but lo
And behold, the season’s come overnight.
Don’t get me wrong, either. Christmastime rocks!
‘Tis a time worth spending with those you love,
But then, so’s Thanksgiving time, and it shocks
Me to know that from somewhere high above,
Someone decided to skip Thanksgiving
So that Christmastime early can descend.
Heaven forbid one day we spend living
‘Fore another day to come ‘round the bend!
Alas, can’t we live one day at a time
To savor each season oh so sublime?

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Daylight Saving Time

Daylight Saving Time
November 4, 2017

Time
Annual rewind
Falling, stalling, saving
Another hour for tomorrow
Resting, rejuvenating, recovering
Long day
Beneficial

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Work in Progress

Work in Progress
October 29, 2017

We all strive for perfection. On that you can rely.
One thing remains, however, that none of us can deny:
Reality ain’t perfect, right down to humanity.
Knowing that, too, it can be a pain to be the best one can be.
Impossible is it for anyone to live and not make mistakes.
No matter one’s competence or intentions, life rarely gives us breaks.
Perseverance and wisdom, then, are paramount to success—
Resilience in adversity’s face when we’ve obstacles to address
On our own or with someone in our corner to help us along the way,
Growing with each step we take as we do each night and day,
Recording our successes and missteps, learning from what we do wrong,
Each time performing better at each task as we march along.
Such is the way we achieve our goals from the cradle to the grave.
Success, after all, befalls upon those who see forth that effort’s made.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Another Rant against Minooka

Another Rant against Minooka
October 16, 2017

Minooka’s at it again.
They’ve come back ‘round the bend—
Back out of their slumber
With a new number,
Harassing us to no end.

They play ring-a-ling ditch with ease
Day after day as they please
With the balderdash
Of collecting cash
For various charities—

That is, of course, unless they
Hang up on one right away
Upon one picking up,
And if that ain’t enough
To ruin their victims’ days,

One can’t even call them back
To tell them “Knock off the attacks!”
For on the other end
Is a robo voice, friend,
To feed callers vapid flack

Of how they’re DNC exempt
And shame on them for the attempt
To launch a complaint
At them ‘cause they ain’t
Having it, no matter how one’s spent.

Now, I’ve railed against these creeps before
And the reality that’s in store
For those foolish enough
To give in to their stuff
And send money to their door.

I’ve mentioned, too, how I won’t fall
For their shtick, should they ever call,
And how one would think
They’d learn their act stinks,
So why should we bother at all

Pestering folks like they still do?
Give it up, Minooka! You’re through.
We’re not falling for your crap,
So shut your trap,
For we’re all now on to you.

We all know ‘bout the games you play
And the price that people pay
One way or another,
And they’ll have not, brother,
So stop this nonsense right away.

You’re not getting another dime
From any wallet, including mine,
For we all now know
What you do with the dough
You might rake in at any given time:

You pocket the lion’s share
And leave but a handful to spare
For X and Y charities,
Making profit as you please
For your “services” without care.

You don’t give a damn at all
‘Bout the needy or how they’ll fall
Without cash for their needs,
Which you prove through your deeds,
And it’s driving me up a wall.

To my call blocker I add one more
Number, for I can take no more,
So take the hint and see
That you must let me be,
Lest you want the feds at your door

To take you to prison at last,
Which would fit your criminal past.
Maybe that’ll be the way
You learn to rue the day
You first sought people to harass.

Good riddance for good, then, Minooka!
We’ve for far too long knew ya,
But when you meet your end
At long last, friend,
You’ll hear but two last words from me” Screw ya!

Then, when you’ve disappeared,
We’ll all grin from ear to ear
‘Til the next sack of scum
Just like you comes
And repeats that which we’ve come to fear.

*****

 

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

Poem of the Week: Another Day for Writer’s Block

Another Day for Writer’s Block
October 10, 2017

Another day, week, month, year…
Another year flushed, I fear.
What am I doing?
Why am I screwing
Myself out of what I hold dear?

So many years put to waste
All ‘cause I failed to make haste
In following my dreams.
Now here I scream
As my brain melts into a paste.

It certainly helps me not,
For nary a rhyme I’ve got
For this rant of mine
At this very time.
Oy vey! What a time for brain rot!

Only mid-aged, and already I
Can feel my brain cells die.
What a drag and a joke
To be mentally broke
At this moment ‘neath Heaven’s blue sky.

Then again, that’s why I write.
It’s how I carry on my own fight
Against mental decay
During these dark days
When we’re all searching for the light.

I’ve always loved to create.
That’s one thing not up for debate.
Be it fiction or prose,
Writing cures my woes
In this world of despair and hate.

Writing gives me a holiday
From the crap of this age and day.
It gives me an escape
From the fools, creeps, and flakes
And all the crap they do and say.

When I write, I’m in control,
Creating characters with soul
To which one can relate
And appreciate
In my story throughout its whole.

It’s the thing I’ve got control of,
Hence why it’s the one thing I love,
And one can’t take away
How it makes my day
And fits like a custom-made glove.

Such is why others like to write,
For writing shows us the light
And allows us to be
All that we can be
And in turn make their cases right.

Such is what writing for us brings,
And I hope to make it the thing
One of these days
In one or another way
For me so tat I can sing

Happily ever after,
My voice ringing through the rafters,
Not only to claim
Fortune and fame,
But something else that I’m after:

The honor of leaving a mark
And a chance to lead folks from the dark
And into the light
To make things right.
That’s the prize for which this dog barks.

Alas, though, it comes without shock
That even I face writer’s block.
It’s a pain to work through,
I’m telling you,
But it’s a case I can’t help but mock,

For the one thing want most of all
Has led me smack into a wall.
I don’t mean to complain,
Either, ‘bout this pain,
For I know I must work through it all,

And work through it I shall,
For I ‘lone hold myself back, pal,
‘Til I fire myself up.
Then, all will know “what’s up,”
And prove my true worth I shall,

Be it one way or another.
There’ll be no stopping me, brother,
Once I get back on track
And clean up my act.
Once I do, I’ll take off like no other.

Just you wait and see there, jack,
For while you may see me as a hack,
I’ll get back on my feet
And scoff at defeat
For daring to give me and slack,

And my detractors, for their flack,
Will, too, understand I’m not whack
No matter how bizarre
My works to them are,
And their respect I’ll have, too, mack.

‘Tl then, here I am, brain in head
Rotting ‘way ‘til I end up dead,
‘Lest I get my rear
Finally in gear
And at last pout this block to bed,

For I alone hold the key
To seek what’s in store for me,
And once I start,
I know I’ll be a part
Of the system. Just you wait and see.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Sometimes You’re Better Off Not Looking Back

Sometimes You’re Better Off Not Looking Back
October 7, 2017

Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.
The past has passed, and it should stay that way.
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

Something I once loved is now out of whack
Compared to how it was back in the day.
Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.

In fact, it’s long been that way, even back
When I chanced to revisit it one day.
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

The passion’s gone, for folks have naught but flack
For that which they still watch to this damn day.
Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.

Watching just to hate? That just sounds wrong, jack.
Lest you’ve hope, why give them the time of day?
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

All that said, guess what: I’m moving on, mack,
Lest what I’d loved improves in a big way.
Sometimes you’re better off not looking back.
Looking back isn’t worth the heart attack.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Frustration of an Undiscovered Author

Frustration of an Undiscovered Author
September 26, 2017

Month after wasted month, year after wasted year,
I reach my hands up high for something more,
Yet no matter how far I reach, nothing ever comes near,
And I wonder if anything really is in store,

So I try hopping up and down, bounding higher with each jump,
Flailing my arms frantically all the while,
Yet no matter how feverishly my furious fists I pump,
I always fall back down in a frustrated pile.

I even cry out to the heavens, hoping someone will hear
That I’m alive and around and worth the time,
Yet all my screaming and shouting only brings me to tears
As I likewise lose this desperate voice of mine,

And once again, I’m left all alone, just as I was before,
Asking why no one sees any worth in me.
Why am I so unwanted? Why’s dealing with me such a chore?
I’m actually worth something, dammit! Can’t you see?

I’m not some braindead peasant. I’m not some clueless schmuck.
I’m more worth investing in than you think,
But ho! You keep you blowing me off and wishing me “Best of luck!”
Not telling me directly why I stink.

It’s either that, or it’s one excuse or another that I’ve already
Heard before from others just like you.
Sooner or later, though, you know one day, you’ll need to be ready
To take on somebody promising, fresh, and new,

Unless those whom you serve already are somehow immortal
Beyond their work, but I doubt that’s the case,
So come on already! Stop casting me away from your portal
As if I’m some kind of talentless disgrace.

Anyone can pick me up, after all, and make something of me
In the instance you refuse to do so, friend,
And when they do and my name becomes immortalized, you’ll see
That success for you had always been ‘round the bend.

Better things have happened for blatant schlock that’s polluted the mainstream,
Bob-bob-bobbing in it like buoyant turds,
And even if I don’t become a legend once I fulfilled my dream,
At least I’ll at last chance to be seen and heard,

And who knows? People just might like me. Wouldn’t that be a treat
After all these years I’ve spent trying to break free?
I’ll finally start a brand new life, too, living on Easy Street
Rather than carrying on through that which’s fallen on me.

All I need is someone on my side to see I’ve got what it takes
To at long last make my dream a reality,
For apparently, I’m forbidden to do so on my own, for Heaven’s sake,
But will somebody help me? I guess we’ll see.

I’ll just keep on doing what I’ve been doing this whole bloody while,
Albeit with a new approach to my crusade
In hopes that someone will hear me and greet me with a smile
And see to my success finally being made.

I’ll show you, then, that I am worth something and prove you the fool,
And the last laugh will be mine at your baseless doubts,
And I’ll throw your “Best of lucks” back at you as you wallow in a pool
Of shame towards the flippancy you used to spout.

Better days are around the corner. They just have to be.
Things can’t get that much worse from this point on.
I just have to keep trying, though, if success I want to see
And all my naysayers I want to prove wrong.

***** 

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

Poem of the Week: Know-it-Alls

Know-it-Alls
September 15, 2017

Experts in their own minds in one thing or another,
Eyes cast down, their noses in the air,
Criticizing all us “philistines” in this and that way, brother,
All with a sense of self-important flair.

Their needle-nosed arrogance so deeply gets under our skin
That it creeps and crawls across our musculature
Until we feel the need to somehow punish them for their sins,
Even if doing so makes us look immature.

After all, what do these jerks know in the grand scheme of things?
On what grounds do they have the right to act
Like everyone should kiss their feet and worship the words they sing?
To Hell with these egomaniacal brats!

They only know so much about topics X, Y, and Z
With the Internet being their chief info source.
Sometimes, they even cling on to each other desperately
‘Cause only one can stand another, of course,

And when one sits on another’s lap, you can truly tell
Just how insecure and dumb the bugger is
And how superior he or she needs to feel at all well
While helping the other feel like an utter whiz.

It’s a lot like bullying in a sense with one hiding behind another,
And when it’s done on the ‘Net, it’s even worse,
For hiding behind a screen only proves one’s cowardice, brother,
And hiding ‘hind others as well further proves one’s curse

Of forever having no backbone on top of being a flake—
Neither of which anyone of sense aims to be,
Especially in a day and age when folks tend to hate what’s fake
And the inauthentic is plain to hear and see.

Take the hint, then, know-it-alls of the world. We’re on to you,
And we’re not going to take your crap anymore.
Go suck your airs of superiority back up your chutes of poo
And take your condescension with you back out the door.

Either gain some ground on which to base the knowledge you claim to own
Or shut your mouths and go away for good.
We’re done with your egos and how they’ve cut our spirits to the bone
And no longer want you in our neighborhood.

*****

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

Poem of the Week: Nostalgia

Nostalgia
September 10, 2017

Nostalgia
Sweet poison
Remembering, reminiscing, reveling
Yesterday wasn’t always golden
Misleading, misinforming, misdirecting
Everlasting paradox
Stagnance

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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                         Amazon.co.uk