Poem of the Week: Bullying and Retaliation

Bullying and Retaliation
March 15, 2018

“It’s nothing personal/
It’s just a joke.”
“Just a joke,” they say.
“Just a joke,” nothing!
Nothing about this is funny.
Nothing like this should happen—
Happen to anyone,
Happen for any reason.
Reason escapes me,
Reason to help me understand,
Understand why,
Understand what…
What motivates such actions,
What people get out of it.
It annoys me.
It frustrates me—
Me with my throbbing headache,
Me with my subverted expectations—
Expectations of my peers,
Expectations of my fellow ex-children.
Children they still are, apparently.
Children they might forever be—
Be, even when they attain adulthood.
Be still, clenching fist.
Fist, stay away from that wall!
Fist, stay away from that face!
Face the reality of the situation.
Face the truth.
Truth is, you and I would become guilty as well.
Truth is it ain’t worth it.
It ain’t worth the criminal record.
It ain’t worth the vile reputation—
Reputation as a hothead,
Reputation as a scumbag…
Scumbag like those I’ve been facing,
Scumbag like those who’ve been bothering me—
Me when I never did them any wrong,
Me when I just want to be left alone…
Alone to learn,
Alone to grow.
Grow some spine\, they ought to…
Grow some brains on top of that.
That is all I can hope for.
That is all I can expect—
Expect until the year is done,
Expect until this is all over.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com


Poem of the Week: Old Fool

Old Fool
February 19, 2018

Quit feeding kids your ego. You know that ain’t cool.
Grow up and do your job right, you pompous old fool.

The poor kids who go to you are seeking advice
For their troubles, not flagrant tongue-lashings, old fool.

Not all troubled kids are raging demons who need
To be punished for their “sins,” you senile old fool.

Where do you get off, then, losing your patience with
Them for even the slightest infraction, old fool?

Do you somehow think you’re above acting grown up
And professionally? Because guess what, old fool:

You’re being PAID to help troubled kids move forward
And become productive adults one day, old fool.

That kind of responsibility isn’t one
That anyone should handle lightly, you old fool,

But yet you do, and quite recklessly at that, too,
Not giving a damn ‘bout how your actions, old fool,

Will affect—nay…IMPACT—your clients for years to
Come during the course of their lives, you dense old fool.

Will your conscience be ready for when the other
Shoe drops and the kids you should’ve counseled, old fool,

End up making life worse for themselves or someone
Else in one nasty way or another, old fool?

Perhaps even to the point where they end up in
Jail or—even worse—six feet underground, old fool?

Have you even conscience to care? I highly doubt
That…but hey…best of luck to you in life, old fool,

For you’ll need it when you at last lose your precious
Throne to one far worthier of the job, old fool,

And from then on live in the shame you’ve forged yourself
From your own ignorance and negligence, old fool…

Not to mention your laziness and cowardice
As well—all the tools of which you’ve used, you old fool,

During the course of a career you deserved not,
Nor does anyone with a mood like yours, old fool…

All warped with stereotypes and precognitions
Of those whom you were meant to serve with care, old fool—

Care, wisdom, and respect—all of which you clearly
Lack, hence this diatribe towards you, you old fool,

And I hope you get a kick to the curb, too, for
All the crap you’ve pulled while you had power, old fool—

Power to help establish a better future
For generations down the road to come, old fool.

Ah, but what’s the use? You’re too old now to learn from
The errors of your ways, stupid, senile old fool,

So I guess there’s little point in me chewing you
Up when you’re gladly chewing your own foot, old fool,

So enjoy whatever misery falls upon
You for all the wrong you’ve done. You’ve earned it…old fool!


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: “Millennial” Means Nothing

“Millennial” Means Nothing
February 13, 2018

“Millennial” means nothing. It’s just another word
That’s amongst the dumbest labels I’ve ever read or heard.
It’s meant for folks who’ve been born between ’81 and ’96,
Yet it’s just for anyone of youth who happens to be a twit,
Be he or she loud, vain, self-entitled, foolish, or immature,
And because this word’s been so misused, its meaning’s no longer pure.

The binge-watching Netflix addict who spurns regular TV;
The controversial YouTuber who’s a millionaire, apparently;
The selfie-obsessed Snapchatter who won’t put down his or her cam;
The memory-depraved jump-cutter with the paltry attention span;
The snarky, self-assured “genius” who digs up, then bashes the past;
The nostalgia junkie who slams the present, praying to all it won’t last;
The screaming mimi who flips his lid at the pettiest of things;
The obnoxious brat who causes a scene for the sake of “entertaining”;
The self-absorbed “social justice” preacher who hates the other side;
The political extremist who’s got a temper she just can’t hide;
The shrieking conspiracy theorist; the posturing alpha male troll;
The callous meathead whose love for tasteless humor fuels his foul soul—

All these archetypes and more, in one form or another,
Have given “Generation Y” its reputation, brother,
For right and wrong alike, which society reminds us at each turn,
Always eager to trash them for their flaws, too stubborn to learn
How the generations of yesteryear were at their age back in the day
With behaviors of their own that were childish or selfish in some way.
In fact, some middle-agers and seniors today still carry on
Many disgusting mannerisms, dragging younger folks along
As the whine about the current era and all that they’ve lost
‘Cause they were too careless with their cash and now must pay the cost
Right alongside their children, who must now clean up their mess
And learn from the mistakes they’ve made, for Son and Daughter now know best.

That is, of course, when they’re not groaning about all they’ve been denied
When they were kids, and yet, they’ve got the chance to change, if they’d try,
The current state of things for the better, but alas,
They cave in to doing the same old thing that’s been done in the past,
Albeit oftentimes perverted, with old morals and values flushed
Down the toilet while the real turds linger ‘round and leave us hushed
In the wake of their pungent smell that manages to seep its way
Into the brains of the masses, making us dumber by the day
As we latch on to everything overhyped that lacks quality and taste
And ignore or dismiss all that’s honest and good, thus making us waste
The talent and efforts of those who try to break through the ceiling and thrive
While the people who lazily take shortcuts are those whose work comes alive,
Thus helping to shape and define the mindset of today’s society,
Which is why things have long been in the dumps according to you and me.

What’s worse about the word “millennial” and how it’s used
Is how “millennials” themselves say it ‘til it’s abused
About the younger generation and all the flaws they bare,
Criticizing “Generation Z” left and right without care
For their own apparent ignorance , buying in to what they’re told,
As well as the trash they themselves admittedly pull, which, too, gets old.
Such irony in the twist of this tale behind an age group’s name
In that it’s used by older folks to bring a measure of shame
Upon those whom for the name is meant who use it in turn
In the same way towards a younger demographic. Oh, how things burn!

It makes me wonder why even bother labeling age groups at all
Or why we have them, period, if it becomes a name to call
The demographic after us for what certain members of it pull
And the stereotypes that are thus born. Doesn’t it all make one mull
Over the stupidity of it all and question why one should dare
Follow the same mindless trend like a drone, knowing it’ll lead nowhere?
In fact, why even have age groups at all if we all know it’s a trap
To further divide us against ourselves as based on each group’s bad rap?
Isn’t there enough bigotry with which we’re made to cope—
Racism, sexism, homophobia—from the minds and mouths of dopes?
Must we really add ageism to the already overflowing pile?
‘Cause for me, this childishness has already long grown out of style.

Problem is, this foolishness hasn’t stopped yet, and I doubt it ever will,
Leaving “Generation Z” now to wallow through this idiotic swill—
A tradition that’s lasted years, if not decades, as things stand,
And all ‘cause older age groups can’t cope with the changes that come at hand
When the next generation comes of age and culture moves along
To something the don’t recognize. It’s the same old tired song.
Good riddance, then, to generation bashing, a tired old sport.
Nothing good ever comes of it or other acts of such a sort.
Good riddance, too, to the word “millennial,” which now means squat.
As far as I’m concerned, the creator of such a term can rot.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Fitting In

Fitting In
August 21, 2017

Sometimes you don’t fit in, no matter how hard you try.
You think you have what it takes, which explains you not knowing why
You can’t get along with others, whose league you think you’re in,
But always remember that being different isn’t a mortal sin.

As a matter of fact, some people, no matter how good they may seem,
Are far bigger creeps than you realize, thus making it a pipe dream
For you to ever fit in with them, but then, you’re better off,
For if you knew what kind of people you’d be dealing with, you’d scoff.

People can be such bastards, all slathered in their own stink
That when it comes to others, they never bother to think,
But instead act all rude and patronizing, treating even “friends” like scum
On account of being “lower” than they are when they’re the ones being dumb.

Folks’ morals and values can be warped far more than you realize,
And should you discover that firsthand, how ugly they’d be in your eyes.
Too many folks sit on their fat asses expecting success to come
On a platinum platter, not caring that the best doesn’t come to lazy bums.

Some people don’t take things seriously and treat too much like a joke
‘Til the other shoe drops and things for them at last go up in smoke.
Some people have nasty tempters and will chew you up in a beat,
Should you cross them one way or another at work or out in the street.

Some folks will act one way one minute, only to turn around
And act completely different the next moment they’ve been found,
Not giving a damn how their treachery hurts any in their wake,
Especially if they thrive somehow off being so bloody fake.

Some even only make friends with those whom they can manipulate
And make them do something they wouldn’t do normally, yet come to hate
In the end one way or another while the creeps themselves
Sit finely by and laugh at their expense like nothing else.

So many are the scumbags out there, and still so many try
To fit in with them whilst not stopping themselves to ask why
They’re so desperate for friendship when what matters in the end
Is staying true to oneself, for upon one’s self one can depend,

And really, is it worth it turning your back on the lessons you’ve learned
Throughout your life for the sake of fake friends who’d rather see you burn
And become that which you’re not, only to make them feel big?
Honestly, why would anyone do that to themselves for such pigs?

Trust me. Being a decent human being needs not fitting in,
Lest you’re talking ‘bout your special niche. Otherwise, it’s no sin
To be different from others, especially those who aren’t worth your time,
So keep your chin up and stay true to yourself, pupil of mine.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Bullying Is Stupid

Bullying Is Stupid
April 23, 2017

Boorish you are, thoughtless and crude.
Ugly’s your behavior, senseless and rude.
Loathesome are your actions, so unprovoked.
Lies you tell others via your sick jokes.
You alone benefit from your cowardice.
Idiotic are the grounds for your gist.
Nasty you are for your moral flaws.
Good god, the grief and self-hate you cause!

I don’t get what your deal is, you dumb brat.
Spineless yet arrogant…where’s your head at?

Sick in the head. That’s all I can say.
To treat you with EST would make my day.
Useless it is to teach you otherwise,
Punk-ass bitch who needs to be cut down to size.
Infantile coward too scared to grow up.
Damned if your callousness doesn’t make me throw up.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: The Vermin of YouTube

The Vermin of YouTube
March 31, 2017

Childish, foul-mouthed twerps bitching and moaning
‘Bout their fave networks going to the dogs;
Nagging malcontents whining and groaning,
Saying all films “suck”…self-entitled hogs;
Pompous nerds screaming ‘bout which characters
Are “killing” their favorite franchises;
Thin-skinned brats acting oh so immature
Likening their peers to groups like ISIS;
Conspiracy nuts shrieking lies so dumb
To make themselves feel better and us ill;
Lonely, bored trolls whose small minds are so numb
They feel the need to smear us with their swill…
All a sample of the hot trash in store
That can make surfing YouTube quite a chore.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Square Peg

Square Peg
February 6, 2017

Square peg, square peg, what do you see?
I see a round hole staring back at me—
A hole so round like so many more before
Into which I’ve tried to fit ‘til I could take it no more,
For every time I’ve tried, I’d learned the hard way
Why I didn’t belong there, and it’s really hard to say
Why it’s taken me so long to even try to find
A spot to call my own and leave my worries behind.
Worse yet, I know not how much longer I can take
Going through the paces and being lost in the wake
Of other people’s success when I, time and again,
Have failed to find my niche and make all right in the end.
What is it that I’m doing wrong? Where is it that I must go
To finally overcome all my frustration and woe?
What is it I must do to finally prove to the world
That I’m actually worth as much as any other boy or girl
Or woman or man walking beneath Heaven’s balmy sky?
Will I ever find true happiness at all before I die?
Will it ever turn out that I can at last be happy with life,
Or am I doomed to forever live in pain and strife?
Either way, I’m growing tired of poking around
And figuring out where I fit all snug, safe, and sound.
I’ll keep on trying, however, al the same in vain hope,
Even though my journey’s already sent me to the end of my rope.
“A place for everything,” after all, “and everything in its place,”
And I refuse to be known as a sad, pitiful disgrace
Who enjoys sitting on his haunches wallowing in self-pity,
Especially when I’ve still a chance to end up in the big city
And relish the rest of my life in paradise and luxury.
Now that’s the kind of life I’d like to live, you see.
Until then, though, I’m stuck here wondering what I should do
To at last escape this hell and make my dreams come true,
And only time will tell if things go ne way or another.
Either way, keep your fingers crossed for me, sisters and brothers,
For this square peg, one way or another, is set to fit
Somewhere on this peg board ‘cause I can’t afford to quit.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: The Road to Grownup Town

The Road to Grownup Town
January 30, 2017

Growing up ain’t always grand.
After all, no one will hold your hand
And walk you through
What it is you must do
To make your way through this land.

Everyone has his or her own
Path down which he or she alone
Traverses along
To the tune of a song
That hopefully leads him or her home.

Even when you’ve found your space,
You can’t help but look back and face
The place you used to be
And for yourself see
Just how much of a shameless disgrace

The scene you once knew long ago
Has transformed for the worst, you know,
Filled with assholes galore
Who ruin what’s in store
By bringing everyone else woe

By the bushel, which adds up quickly
And makes things ever so prickly
That it’s no longer the
Place at all to be,
Lest you want to end up just as sickly

In the head as the pains in the ass
Who, with their sheer lack of class,
End up making a chore
Of all that’s in store
For those who must cope with their sass.

Even when these schmucks aren’t a thing,
Looking back leaves such a sting,
Seeing how things change
And rearrange,
Making one ask, “Is this still my thing?”

Never mind all the new gals and guys.
What of the things you don’t recognize—
All the sights and sounds
That weren’t at all around
The last time you were made wise?

Worse yet, what happened to all that
Which was around when you were, jack—
All the legends and lore
That there was in store
When you were naught but a wee brat?

To put it simply, they’re gone,
Having long ago said so long
To ex-kids like you
Who once saw them through
To the end. Is that so wrong?

‘Cause if not, what about all the stuff
That has stuck around for the young pups,
Some of which is each bit
As when you were fit
To enjoy it even in times tough

While the rest of it’s gone to crap
And is so lame that you can’t laugh,
No matter how much
You want to and such?
What have you to say about that?

That it ain’t the same either way
Like it was back in the day?
Well, perhaps, then,
That’s a sign, dear friend,
Telling you to embrace a new day—

A day in which you’re the grownup
And must walk away from the kid stuff,
No mater how much
You don’t want to do such
A thing, no matter how tough

Doing so might be in the end.
That’s just the way things are, friend.
We must al leave our toys
For the next girls and boys
And prepare for what’s ‘round the bend.

After all, whoever knows?
Forever shan’t last your woes,
For surely there’s gold
‘Round a bend untold
Waiting for you, should you want it so.

Trust me, you’ll not know unless
You make it your effort best
To carry on down
The road to Grownup Town
And put your childhood to rest.

After all, no one’s a child forever,
And wallowing in pity will never
Allow you to move on,
So stand up and be strong
And prepare yourself for whatever

And always keep in mind, friend,
Even with your childhood at its end,
You still have memories
To help put you at ease
When your wits are coming to and end,

Not to mention the opportunity
To make more as you try to see
Your fortune unfold
And bring forth ventures bold
Via which to forge your destiny.

There’s only one way to see
What your life can come to be,
And that’s to get up
From the couch, ex-pup,
And accept your destiny.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: Something New for the Young

Something New for the Young
December 27, 2016

Who doesn’t miss the good ol’ days, when things actually made sense,
When our elders cared about us and had wisdom to dispense
And imagination ran wild with all the stories out there
For us to watch and read with heroes and heels ‘bout whom we cared?

Who doesn’t miss the times when folks could easily captivate
Our minds with situations to which we could quickly relate
In settings so vivid and lively we almost wished we were there,
Yet were happy enough to visit, our memories trailing us everywhere?

I sure don’t I’ll admit. In fact, much to my shame,
Nostalgia often cripples me, and I’ve but myself to blame,
For in all my longing for that which I once knew, I keep failing to
Realize the fact that I have the power to see tomorrow through

The same way yesterday’s creators gave my generation
Food for our minds to feast on, even in today’s fallen nation—
Stories I still remember and forever will ‘til I die.
What about today’s kids, though? What have they to feed their eyes?

Why can’t they have heroes of their own whom they can look up to
Who’ll fight in the name of justice for the likes of me and you
Against many a villain foul as the heroes we once loved so
Did when we read and watched their adventures? That I’d like to know.

Why must we feed them second-rate hash like we’ve been doing
For Heaven knows how many years now? What’s the point in screwing
Them out of quality stuff like we had once upon a time?
That simply makes no sense to me. Does it to you, peers of mine?

Why recycle the same old brands and franchises over and over again
Until they no longer resemble the versions we knew back then?
Why mutilate a classic for a younger generation
When we can give them something more meaningful—a new sensation?

Do you realize how much we’ve been doing that over the years?
What’s with all the rebooting and remaking? Why he fear?
Have we lost faith in creativity and originality?
Is it simply ;bout the almighty dollar—guaranteed cash money?

Why can’t we all show some backbone and instead try something new
And give our kids some fresh brands to invest in and see through
To the very end the way we ex-kids did back in the day?
There was no harm in trying back then. Why not try again today?

That’s the way I look at it, and as a creator myself,
I’ll see to it that some new ideas do indeed reach shelves
As a means of carrying on the tradition I knew as a boy
And giving the kids of today stories that they can enjoy.

Such is my pledge from here on out, and I hope you understand
Why I see what I see as such a problem in this troubled land.
After all, the word “progress” means nothing when there’s no identity
To the era in which one lives, so it’s up to folks like me

To help the world move forward in our own odd little way,
Giving youths the escape they need from an unforgiving day,
For everyone needs an escape now and then, and Heaven knows I had mine,
And if there’s one thing I want nowadays, it’s to leave the same thing behind.


Author Pages: Smashwords.com

Poem of the Week: 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,
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

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

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